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(From a sketch by A. W. Chase.)
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Frontispiece—Klamath River Lodge and Sweat-house.
DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR.
U. 8. GEOGRAPHICAL AND GEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN REGION.
J. W. POWELL, In CuHarce.
CONTRIBUTIONS
NORTH AMERICAN BTHNOLOGY.
VOLUME ITI.
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GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFIOR
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DEPARTMENT OF THH INTERIOR,
Unitep STaTes GEOGRAPHICAL AND GEOLOGICAL
Survey or THE Rocky Mountain Recon,
Washington, D. C., November 10, 1876.
Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith volume III of the Contri-
butions to North American Ethnology, being a Report on the Tribes of
California, by Mr. Stephen Powers, with vocabularies collected by various
persons and edited’ by myself. A map will be found with the volume
showing the geographic distribution of the several linguistic stocks of
which the report treats, and of others that will receive attention in a sub-
sequent volume—these latter being found only in part within the territory
embraced in the map.
The opinion which Mr. Powers expresses concerning the former Indian
population does not seem to me to be well sustained. It cannot be doubted
that Eastern California and Oregon were, at the advent of the white man,
more densely populated than any other portion of the United States, and
that the peculiar conditions under which the settlement of the region was
made resulted in the destruction of a great number of its former inhabit-
ants. In fact, I am of the opinion that more Indians were destroyed in
this part of the country than in the remaining portion of the United States,
and yet I believe that Mr. Powers overestimates the population.
Believing this, I wrote him, asking him for some modification of his
statements, and gave my reasons therefor, and further enforced my views
by giving him the opinions of others who had made careful examination
of the question of the former population of the Indians of this country,
and I expressed the opinion that he would subject himself to unfavorable
criticism unless his statements were modified. In reply to my letter the
following was received. It is so vigorous and characteristic that I take
the liberty of quoting it here:
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL.
bo
WATERFORD, WASHINGTON COUNTY, OHIO,
iS ; November 3, 1876.
My DEAR Sir: Your letter asking me to modify my estimates as to the aborig-
inal population of California has been received and carefully considered. When you
wished me to strike out the matter relating to origin and language, I did it cheerfully,
because I was obliged to admit that it was written somewhat superficially on a subject
that demanded profound study. But this is a different case. 1 traveled years in Cali-
fornia, penetrated the remotest valleys, and talked with scores of trustworthy men—
men like General Bidwell, Judge Steele, Representative Fairchild, and others—who
had been among the Indians ten, twenty, thirty years, and seen them in their prime.
These men gave me solid facts respecting their own limited areas. I know that the
estimates of pioneers as to the population of large tracts are often wild and unreliable,
but they should certainly be able to give a close guess as to single villages or valleys
only a few miles square.
What can I do with these facts? Take, for instance, the census made by Ormond
along the lower Klamath; take the statement of Captain Sutter that he had over 400
Indians, old and young, about him at Fort Sutter; take the statement of Claude
Cheney that he had 50 or 60 about him on his ranch; take the figures of the old
padres, which show that there were about 4,000 at San Miguel Mission at one time.
In 1831 there were 18,683 Indians domesticated at the various missions of the State.
Take the statement of General Bidwell that, in 1849, there must have been 1,000
Indians in the single village where Colusa now stands; suppose he estimated the
number twice too large; take 500; and now there are not above 20. How can I fly in
the face of such facts as these? The State is full of them. Kit Carson says there
were thousands in Napa Valley in 1829; but in 1859 he could not find a tenth, no, not
a twentieth, part of them, and now there are not 50 in the whole valley.
* * * * * * *
I have the greatest respect for your views and beliefs, and, with your rich fund
of personal experience and observation; if you desire to cut out the paragraph and
insert one under your own signature, in brackets, or something of that kind, I will
submit without a murmur, if you will add this remark, as quoted from myself, to wit:
“T desire simply to ask the reader to remember that Major Powell has been accus-
tomed to the vast sterile wastes of the interior of the continent, and has not visited
the rich forests and teeming rivers of California.” But I should greatly prefer that
you would simply disavow the estimates, and throw the whole responsibility upon me.
This permission I give you; but I have waded too many rivers and climbed too
many mountains to abate one jot of my opinions or beliefs for any carpet-knight who
wields a compiling-pen in the office of the — or —. If any critic, sitting in
his comfortable parlor in New York, and reading about the sparse aboriginal popula-
tions of the cold forests of the Atlantic States, can overthrow any of my conclusions
LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL. a
with a dash of his pen, what is the use of the book at all? As Luther said, at the
Diet of Worms, ‘“ Here I stand ; I cannot do otherwise.”
I beg you, my dear major, not to consider anything above written as in the
slightest degree disrespectful to yourself; such is the farthest remove from my
thoughts.
Very truly, yours, _
STEPHEN POWERS.
Maj. J. W. POWELL.
I hope Mr. Powers will not feel aggrieved at my thus making use of
a private letter.
I am, with great respect, your obedient servant,
J. W. POWELL,
In charge.
The Hon. Secretary or THE INiERIOR,
Washington, D. C.
i 4 lig -
&
DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR.
U. 8. GEOGRAPHICAL AND GEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN REGION.
J. W..POWELL, IN CHARGE.
SielbwWs OF CALIVFPORNLA.
BY
Se Ee aN POW HE S..
WASHING LON:
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE.
1877.
=
Warerrorp, Wasuineron County, Ouzo,
November 6, 1876.
Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith a manuscript containing
information in regard to the habits and customs, the legends, religious
beliefs, and geographical distribution of the California Indians—information
collected during three years’ residence and travel among these tribes.
Very respectfully, yours,
STEPHEN POWERS.
Prof. J. W. Powe.1,
In charge of United States Geographical and
Geological Survey of the Rocky Mountain Region,
; Washington, D. C,
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PREFACE.
The word ‘“Pomo” (from pum, pauwm, pom, which signify “earth” in
various languages) denotes “‘earth-people”. Though it is the specific name
of only one nation on Russian River, it is equally applicable to all the
aborigines of California, since they all believe that their first ancestors
were created directly from the soil of their respective present dwelling-
places.
There are several ideas which the reader who is acquainted only with
Atlantic tribes must divest his mind of, in taking up the study of the Cali-
fornia Indians. Among them is the idea of the “Great Spirit”, for these
people are realistic and seek to personify everything; also that of the
“Happy Hunting Grounds”, for the indolent Californian reared in his balmy
clime knows nothing of the fierce joy.of the Dakota hunter, but believes
in a heaven of Hedonic ease and luxury.. The reader must also lay aside
the copper-color, the haughty aquiline beak, and the gorgeous, barbaric
ornamentation of the person. He must lay aside the gory scalp-lock (for
the most part), the torture of the captive at the stake, the red war-paint of
terrible import (the Californians used black), the tomahawk, the totem,
and the calumet. As the plain and simple ‘‘Pomo” is to the more resound-
ing ‘Algonkin”, so is the California aborigine to his Atlantic cousin. .
It is a humble and a lowly race which we approach, one of thé lowest
on earth; but I am greatly mistaken if the history of their lives does not
teach more wholesome and salutary lessons—lessons of barbaric providence,
plenty, and contentment, of simple pleasures and enjoyments, and of the
capacities of unprogressive savagery to fill out the measure of human
happiness, and to mass dense populations—than may be learned from the
more romantic story of the Algonkins.
Perhaps it is too much to ask any one to believe that there are regions
»
6 PREFACE.
of California which supported more Indians than they ever will of white
men. But if those who honor this book with a perusal shall lay it aside
with the conviction that the cause of his extinction does nof “lie within the
savage himself”, and that the white man does of come to ‘take the place
which the savage has practically vacated”, I shall be content. Civilization
is a great deal better than savagery; but in order to demonstrate that fact
it is not necessary to assert, as Wood does in his work, that savagery was
accommodatingly destroying itself while yet the white man was afar off.
Ranker heresy never was uttered, at least so far as the California Indians
are concerned. It is not well to seek to shift upon the shoulders of the
Almighty (through the savages whom He made) the burden of the respon-
sibility which attaches to the vices of our own race.
Let it not be thought that this book will attempt to gloze or to conceal
anything in the character or conduct of the aborigines. While they had
fewer vices than our own race, they committed more frequently the
blackest crimes. Revenge, treachery, cruelty, assassination—these are the
dark sides of their lives; but in this category there was nothing ever per-
petrated by the California Indians which has not been matched by acts of
individual frontiersmen. As above remarked, the torture of captives was
not one of their customs. Infanticide was probably more frequent than
among us; and their occasional parricide, done in cold blood, stands per-
haps without a parallel.
In order to study their customs I traveled among them the greater
part of the summers of 1871 and 1872, and lived many months in sufficient
proximity to their villages.
I am indebted to Prof. H. N. Bolander and Mr. R. E. C. Stearns for
- assistance in the matter of sundry scientific details; and to A. W. Chase,
Esq., of the United States Coast Survey, for sketches and photographs.
ne
SHERIDAN, Pacer County, CaLirornia,
August 25, 1874.
ADDITIONAL PREFACE.
In August, 1875, I was appointed by the honorable Secretary of the
Interior a special commissioner to make collections from Western Nevada
and California for the Centennial Exhibition of 1876. While prosecuting
that mission I was enabled to collect additional information, all of which
has been incorporated into this volume.
seal es
Wasuineton, D. C., October, 1876.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE KA-ROK.
Physique — Dress— Money — Government — Marriage — Lack of virtue — Bastards — Division of labor —
Kareya—Assembly chamber—Superstitious use of it—Doctors—Medical practice.
CHAPTER II.
THE KAROK—Continued.
Dance of propitiation—Kareya Indian—Ornaments for the dance—Dance for salmon—Superstitions about
hunting and fishing—Language—Burial of the dead—Petchiéri—Mentioning names of the dead—
Burial of a child. .
CHAPTER III.
KAROK FABLES.
Fable of the animals—Origin of salmon—Origin of fire—The coyotes dancing with the stars—Interpre-
tation ef fables—Story of Klamath Jim—Resurrection of the dead.
CHAPTER IV.
THE YU-ROK.
Habitat — Physique — Language — Dwellings — Industry and wealth — Villages — Basketry — Canoes —
Quivers—Salmon-fishing—Food—Fishing for smelt—Sunset scenes—Berries and alge.
CHAPTER V.
THE YU-ROK—Continued.
Weapons of war—Salmon Billy —A little adventure—Curiosity, dress, and habits —Customs of mar-
riage—Dances—Bewitching the salmon—Wooden figures—Curious custom—Salutations—Burial of
the dead —Size of the tribe —Great amount of salmon— The Yurok siren — A Yurok’s revenge —
Foxes catching the sun.
CHAPTER VI.
THE TOL’-O-WA.
Relationships—Prowess—A coast village—Partition of the coast—Avarice—Dances—Reverence for the
dead — Location of heayen—Worship of the sun—Canoes—Origin of “‘ Wageh”—Legend of the
flood.
9
10 TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
THE HU’-PA.
Their power—Prevalence of their language—Clans very numerous—Dress and implements—Laws and
customs—Murder—Singular punishment for adultery—Position of bastards— Measurement of money—
“ Squaw-money ”—Language—Counting ages by the teeth.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE HUPA—Continned.
Dances, doctor dance, dance for luck—Great value of white-deer skins—Also of obsidian or jasper
knives—A splendid head-dress — Dance of peece— Legend of Gard — Description of the dance of
peace—Rites of burial—Story of Nish-fang—Puberty dance—Price of a wife.
CHAPTER IX.
TRIBES TRIBUTARY TO THE HUPA.
The Chil-li-la—Language—Terrible superstitions—The Whil/-kut— Habitat and language—The Kel’-ta—
“Mr. Baker”—Lodges and food—Curious custom in gambling—Clairvoyance—Good and evil—The
dead—The Chi-mal’.a-kwe—Paid tribute—Loss of language—Diseases—Use of the assembly cham-
ber—The Pat/-a-we—War of 1864—Total destruction.
CHAPTER X.
THE PAT’-A-WAT.
Fertility of dwelling-place—Low estaté—Lodges and habits—Hereditary chief—Value of life—Deyils—
Use of herbs—Old burying-grounds—Numerals.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VI-ARD.
Lodges—Trapping game—Old Ephraim—Eel-traps—Dense population—Great eaters—Making arrow
heads—Thanksgiving dance—Oration of plenty.
CHAPTER XII.
THE MAT-TOAL‘.
Habitat—Bravery—Diet of fish—Predatory raids—Glue—Tattooing—Geographical study—Sacredness of
herald—The dead—Legend of creation—Theory of spirits—Legend of Sattik—Filial ingratitude—
The Lo-lon’-kuk.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE WAI-LAK-KI.
Theory of origin—Speculations —Kindred tongues—Shell-money—Summer resorts—Food—Running down
deer—Black bear dance—Clover dance—Lack of filial piety—Mountain trails—Quarrelsome race—
A fight—The Las’-sik—Dispossessed nomads—Manner of robbing—The Sai’-az—A warlike race—Con-
dition on the reservation—Bad management—Pandenmonism—Language.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE YU-KI.
Round Valley—Uncertainty of name—“The Thieves”—A bad race—Yuki characteristics—Different
lodges of California—Population—Medical practice—Green-corn dance—An incident—The Yuki
devil—Reservation facts and figures—Indian sehools—The Chu-mai-a—Always at war—The mode
of challenge--Story of Bloody Rock.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 11
CHAPTER XV.
THE TA-TU.
An Indian monaco—Lodges—Their theory of origin—Exccssive timidity—Vond of peace—Raising the
devil-——Sweat-baths—Movement cure—Dr. Tep—Acorn dance—Transmigration of souls—Big snakes—
Legend of the coyote.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE PO-MO.
A large tribe—Dialects—Characteristics—The coyote—Eel River Pomo—Kastel Pomo—Nearly extinet—
Wars—Customs—Kai Pomo—A great battle-ground—Narly marriages—Half-breeds—Arrangement
of tribes—Ké-to Pomo—Learning Janguages—Food—Tennis—Betting—Medicine-men—The dead—
Treatment of parents—Curious custom of hospitality —Topography—A terrible ogre—Happy western
land—Acorn dance—Other tribes.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE POMO—Continued.
Pim-Pomc—Wild-oats—Government—Marriage—Little virtue—A serect society—Devil dance—Influence
-of women—A race of amazons—Beliefs—Supreme Being—The hereafter—Legend of the coyote—
Other tribes.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE YO-KAI-A.
Name—Mourning the dead—Feeding the spirits—The stuffed lizard—Squaws raising corn—Numierals—
The San-el/—Patriarchal system—Indian agriculture—An old town—Sanel—Barren women—Sun
and moon—Cremation of a chief—Indian theory of burning the dead—Feeding spirits—Beliefs—The
Ko-wa‘-cho—Contributious to the chief—Watermelon dance—Self-torture for the sick.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE GAL-LI-NO-ME-RO,
Habitat and name—Lodges—Physique—Habits—Generous but ernel—Ventura—Salutations—Baying
relations—Murder and infanticide—Parricide—Selling a wife—W ars—Spear dance; a pantomime—A
Spanish pioneer—Wild-oat dance—Doctors—Incremation—Frightful scenes—An Indian hell—
Mourning—The Chief above—Origin of light—The Misalla-Magin—Dance of weleome—Infanticide
nowadays—Over-population—Little Harvey Bell.
CHAPTER XX.
THE GUA-LA-LA.
An old Russian mission—Russian traces—Fancy baskets—Wild oats—Acorn bread—A sylvan barom-
eter—Wild tobacco—A great game of gambling—Curious scene—Physiognomy—Social obseryances—
Sleeping naked—Autumnal games—Devil dance—The Erussi—The Erios—Theory of cremation—
Dance of seven devils—Black-bear dance—The San Rafael Indians—The Cho-ki-yen,
CHAPTER XXI.
THE ASH-O-CHI-MI.
The unconquerable—The Geysers—Calistoga Hot Springs—Conquer the Gallinomero—Language—Court-
ship—An abandoned wife—Propitiating the ow] and the hawk—Punta de los Reyes—Legend of the
Flood—A legend of the Geysers.
12 TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE KA-BI-NA-PEK.
A Clear Lake tribe—Brave and intelligent—An architectural eommission—Lake fish—Language—An
interesting query—Sensuality—Sorrow for the dead—Feticide—Scene of cremation—An Indian
revival—An assembling multitude—The proclamation—The dance—Ornaments of the dancers—
Indian songs—A midnight spectacle—Infatuation for the dance.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MAKH’.EL-CHDL.
An island tribe—Haughty and exclusive—Death to an adulteress—Wigwams, implements, and canoes—
Good Indians burned; bad Indians “ holed”—A treaty—Medical practices—A story of the lake.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PAT-WIN’.
Lack of cohesion—Geographical distribution—Seats of population—Food—Lodges—Chiefship—C!an-
nishness—War—Treatment of children—California Indian physique—Change of skin—Raising the
dead—Raising the devil—Widows—Medical art—Bidding the dead adieu—Legends—Origin of Clear
Lake—The Great Fire—The Rejos.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE WIN-TUN’.
Characteristics—Distribution of tribes—A metiopolitan nation, and a court Janguage—Dress—Fondness
for water—Fishing-stations—Manzanita cider—Rotation of foods—Traffic—Puberty dance—Songs—
A social race—Scalp dance—Gift dance—Husband ard wife—Midwifery—Disposal of the dead—
“ Spirit-roads ”—No religious acts—Trinity Winttn—Weapons—Specimen of tattooing.
CHAPIER XXVI.
THE SHAS-TLKA.
Difficulty of learning national names—Dominion—Physical aspects—Degenerated—Sweat-ovens—Range
of food—Not strictly Catifornia Indians—Power of the chief—A treaty with Tolo—Prostitution—
Women go to war—Their rights—Old feuds—Strong desire to be buried in native place—Language—
Legends—Prehistorie horses.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE MO-DOK.
Origin of name—Habitat—Rugged strength of features—A fierce race—Bloody wars with the settlers—
Retaliation—Dealt in slaves—Toughness of vitality—Dwellings stood near water—Dress, canoes,
food, fish, etc —Baby-baskets-—Morning cbants—Chieftainship—Does civilization improve Indian
morals ?—Reasons given for polygamy—A new religioun—Suicide of Curly-headed Jack—Origin of
Modok war—Influence of priests—Their skill and bravery—Lava-bed defenses—Captain Jack—His
bad record—Dying speech—John Sconchin—Bostou Charley—Why they killed the commissioners—
Melancholy history of the Modok—Always a persecuted race, always wronged, and driven to des-
peration at last.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE A-CHO-MA’-WI.
Pit River—Physique in Hot Spring Valley—On the South Fork—In Big Valley—Custom of digging pits—
Food supply—Position of women—Made slaves of—Social life—One of twins killed—Belief as to
spirits of dead—Singular tradition—Legend of creation—Numerals—The Pakamalli.
ry
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 13
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE NO-ZI, ETC.
A small, fierce, mountain tribe—Their home—Pwiéssy—Aboriginal honesty—Nearly extinect—Tradition
of their eastern origin—Mill Creek Indians—A doomed race—Wonderful resistance to civilization—
Five Indians against the world—Present home—Summary of customs—Apparently foreign to Cali-
fornia—Story of Snowflake.
CHAPTER XXX.
on THE MAI-DU.
Distribution of tribes— Sites of villages—Guarded against surprise—Hill-stations—Old camps—Descrip-
tion of a village—Daily life—Fowling-snares—Acorn dance—Clover dance—Manzanita dance—Great
Spirit dance—Annihilation—Beliefs—An Indian schottish—Legend of the Flood—Wo6-lok-ki and
Y6-to-wi—The lion and the cat—Legend of Oan-koi’-tu-peh—Sacred songs.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE NI-SHIL-NAM.
Classification—Differences in langnage—Great number of dialects—Boundaries—System of names—Per-
sonal names—Villages and geography—Low estate of the tribe—Instances—No payment made for
wife—Childless women—Murder of a woman—Nomadic habits—Origin of government—Penalty of
crimes—Customs in war—Spears— Collecting debts—Sacrifice of the aged—Indian field-commissary—
Captain Sutter’s Indians—Not misers—First grass dance—Second grass dance—A gala-day in
spring—Spiritualism—Women’s dance-house—Medical art—Death scenes—Mourning of widows—
Dance for the dead—The “‘ ery ””—Story of Captain Tom.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE NISHINAM—Continued.
CGames—Shooting at target—Boys’ games—Different kinds of gambling—An athletic game—“ Learning
the rules”—Jugglery—Shell-money—Wealth of the aborigines—Two kinds of money—Personal
ornaments—Mythology—Ai-kutand Yo-t6-to-wi—Origin of incremation—The bear and the deer—
Origin of fire —The old man-eater—The road-woman—Insanity—Hermaphrodites.
CHAPTER XXAXIII.
THE MI-WOK.
A dense abori_inal population—A. common langnage, but no nationality—Greeting—Characteristics—
Tribal geography—The Walli—Houses—Food—Shell-money—Chieftainship—Old Sam—Tai-pok’/-si—
Honeymoons—Kill one of twins—Medicine—Dances—Annual mourning—A legend of the Tu-ol-
um-ne—Creation of man—Numerals.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
YOSEMITE.
Meaning of names—Origin of the word—Interpreters—Old Jim—List of names—Translations—Villages
in the valley—Legend of Tu-tok-a-nu’-la—Legend of Tis-sé-yak—Other legends.
14 TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE YO-KUTS.
Boundaries and tribes—Military style of camps—Political hierarchy—Chief and captains—Pascnzl—
Naidkawe—Rain-makers—Bows and arrows—War-arrows and game-arrows—Making arrow-heads—
Tanning—Shell-money—Manzanita cider—Fishing—Stone mortars—Basket-making—Women gam-
bling—Seasons and. days of the week—Food—Sacred animals—Midwifery—Wizards—Pestilence—
Rattlesnake dance—Dances—Modesty of women—Story of the captives—Death and annihilation—
Origin of the mountains—Dance for the dead—An extraordinary spectacle, lasting all night—Ex-
tended description of it.
~
CHAPTER XXXVI.
TRIBES RELATED TO THE PAI-U-TI.
On Kern River—Lodges and canoes of tule—Chico—An aboriginal philosopher—A number of quaint and
curious conceits—Pokoh’/—The sun and the coyote—The Tilli—The Pohalli-Tilli—The Mouos—Per-
sonal appearance—More warlike than Californians—T be black eagle—The big trees—Bears in council.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
GENERAL FACTS.
Fate of California Indians—A shy race—The reservations—A failure for lack of management—Terror
of the reservation—Moral abdication—Physically considered—Superior to Chinese—Height and _
weight—Fine teeth—Fondness for bathing—Half-breed girls—War and women—Not a warlike
race—Contests with the Spaniards— Women not so low as among the Algonkins— Abseuce of
bloody rites—Lack of breadth of character—Very imitative—Indifference to defeat in gaming—Lack
of poetry in character—Quickness of their self-adaptation to civilization—Native huamor—Naturally
thievish—Northern tribes avaricious—Rule of the gift-givers—Feuds, murder, and revenge—A licen-
tious race—But outwardly modest—No aboriginal idea of a Supreme Being—Spirits and devils—
Rey. J. G. Wood’s theory of savage vices combated—The Californians were prosperous and happy—
Dense populations—A healthy race—Romance of savage life a delusion.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ABORIGINAL BOTANY.
No classification—Minute observation—Great number of edible matters—Subtilty of the medicine men—
The oaks—The pifion—Arrows and baskets—Poison-oak—Soap-root—Various medicines—Poisons—
Grasses—Mushrooms—Grass-uuts—Greens—Seeds—Wild potato—Wild tobacco—Textile plants—
Medicines of commerce.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
SUPPLEMENTARY FACTS.
Prebistories of Culifornia—Theory of degeneratioc—Stone implements as evidence—Difierent kinds of
lodges—A Kon-kau anniversary—A savage New Year,
INTRODUCTORY.
There is some difficulty in drawing a line sharp between the California
Indians and their neighbors. With some exceptions they shade away from
tribe to tribe, from valley to valley, so that one can seldom put his finger
on a river or a mountain-range and say that here one nation ends and
another begins.
There are certain general customs which mark the California Indians, as,
for instance the use of the assembly chamber, the non-use of torture on pris-
oners of war, cremation, and the prevalence of a kind of plutocracy, or if
the word is allowable, dorocracy, that is, the rule of the gift-givers. But cre-
mation and the assembly chamber are also used, toa certain extent, by some
vicinal tribes that cannot be classed with these; and, on the other hand,
cremation is not universal in California.
The term “Digger”, vulgarly applied to the race, is opprobious and
unjust, equally as much as it would be to designate Chinamen as ‘“Rat-
eaters”. There are tribes, notably the Apaches, who subsist much more on
roots than do the California Indians
Aside from language, the most radical difference between the Califor-
nians and the Paiuti or Nevada Indiaiss is, that the latter build their lodges
more or less on hill-tops, while the former build theirs near water-courses.
As to the Californians and the Siwash, or Oregon Indians, probably the
most notable difference is, that the latter have no large assembly chamber
proper. Both these points of difference show that the Californians are a
more peaceful, effeminate, and sensuous race than their neighbors. They
are also more devoted to joyous, social dances and merry-makings.
But the crucial test is that of language. Not only are the California
languages distinguished for that affluence of vowel sounds which is more
15
16 INTRODUCTORY.
or less characteristic of all tongues spoken in warm climates, but most of
them are also remarkable for their special striving after harmony. There
are a few languages found in the northern mountains which are harsh and
sesquipedalian, and some on the upper coast that are guttural beyond the
compass of cur American organs of speech; but with these few exceptions
the numerous languages of the State are beautiful for their simplicity, the
brevity of their words, their melody, and their harmonic sequences.
The Tinné or Athabascan races extend far into California along the
coast, reaching to the headwaters of Eel River. The tribes immediately
around Humboldt Bay probably do not belong to them, but to the Califor-
nians. The former drove the Californians up the Trinity to the mouth of
New River. They hold the Smith, the Klamath, Mad, and Eel Rivers
entire, except the lower reaches of the last two. They also hold Scott
River. Beginning at the head of this river, the line runs across to Mount
Shasta; thence to the forks of the Pit; thence up South Fork and down
along the Sierra to Honey Lake; thence along the western line of the
double crest (the Wa-sho generally hold the summit meadows) to Alpine
County. I have not seen the Indians of this county, but they are said to
belong to the Paiuti. In Southern California the Paiuti tribes have
pushed down King’s River and the San Joaquin nearly to the plains, and
down the Kern to its mouth, also through Tahichapa Pass, holding nearly
the whole Kern Basin. Of the tribes in the Mohave and Colorado Deserts
I can say very little.
An accurate distribution of tribes within these limits is a difficult task.
In the mountain regions where there are certain natural, well-defined ter-
ritories, as valleys, ete., there are generally names which may be dignified
as tribal; but on the great plains the Indians become scattered and diffused
in innumerable little villages or camps, of which it is very seldom the case
that even two are bound together by a common name. The chiefs could
not hold them together. Hence, on the plains the only useful boundaries
are linguistic; and the extent of any given language is generally far
greater than in the mountains.
There will be found in these pages no account of the quasi-Christianized
Indians of the missions Their aboriginal customs have so faded out, their
INTRODUCTORY. 17
tribal organizations and languages have become so hopelessly intermingled
and confused, that they can no longer be classified. They are known as
Diegenos, Miguelenos, Rafaelenos, and the like Spanish names, which are
formed from the missions to which they respectively belonged; and for
purposes of classification it is useless to take down a vocabulary and call it
the “San Miguel language”, for instance, for the Indians who originally
lived there may be all dead, while those who give the vocabulary may be
descended from Indians brought by the Spanish missionaries from the San
Joaquin Valley, or some other point a hundred miles distant, and which
has been forgotten even by the whites.
In this work I have followed the system of orthography recommended
in the “Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 160”, which is substantially
the same as the Continental. Occasionally it is found necessary to employ
the consonants 2g to denote the French nasal sound, also the German
umlaut. Kh has the sound of ch in the German Buch. Indian words are
accented and syllabicated the first time they occur; after that they are
written solid.
Owing to the great number of dialectic variations in California lan-
guages, there is probably not an Indian word in this volume which a per-
son knowing only one dialect could not prove to be wrong.
27TC
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a eel os
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‘i > yao ates foe sed He
4 foo Ca beans + Pore Woe,
wae LE ees
Ce ee
7 “ 7 . a . e 0 aly vn he ~ & :
wp oo as |) oo Ge a ie
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THE TRIBES OF CALIFORNIA.
BY STEPHEN POWERS.
CHAPTER. I.
THE KA-ROK.
On the Klamath there live three distinct tribes, called the Yu-rok,
Ka’-rok and Mo’-dok, which names are said to mean, res nectivel ic “do wh
] ) i J ;
the Yl er” oCii D the river” and a head of the river”. The first two are
V ) i ’
up
east”; but the third is doubtful. The habitat of the Karok extends from
derived from yi-ruk, yi-tuk, meaning “down west”, and kd-ruk, “
a certain canon a few miles above Waitspek, along the Klamath, to the foot
of Klamath Mountains, and a few miles up Salmon River. They have no
recollection of any ancient migration to this region; on the contrary, they
have legends of Creation, of the Flood, ete., which are fabled to have
occurred on the Klamath.
The Karok are probably the finest tribe in California. Their stature
is only a trifle under the American; they have well-sized bodies, erect and
strongly knit together, of an almost feminine roundness and smoothness,
the legs better developed than the arms; and when a Karok has the weapon
to which he is accustomed—a sharp stone gripped in the hand—he will face
a white man and give him a handsome fight, though when armed only with
a snickersnee or a revolver, in the use of which he does not feel confidence,
he flees before him. The Klamath face is a little less broad than that on
the Sacramento; in early manhood nearly as oval as the American; cheek-
bones large and round-capped, but not too prominent; head brachycephalic;
19
20) THE KAROK.
eyes bright, moderately well sized, and freely opened straight across the
face; nose thick-walled and broad, straight as the Grecian, nares ovoid, root
not so depressed as in the Sacramento Valley; forehead low and wide, nearly
on a perpendicular line with the chin; color ranging from hazel or buff-
hazel to old bronze, and almost to black. Many of the young squaws are
notable for the fullness of the eyes and the breadth of sclerotic exposed.
The women age early, but even at forty or fifty their faces are furrowed
with comparatively fine lines, and they very seldom display those odious
hanging wrinkles and that simian aspect seen on the Sacramento. All Cali-
fornia Indians emit an odor peculiar to themselves, as that of the Chinese
or that of the negroes is to them.
With their smooth, hazel skins, nearly oval faces, full and brilliant eyes,
some of the young women—barring the tattooed chins—have a piquant and
splendid beauty. In those large, voluptuous eyes, so broadly rimmed with
white, there is something dangerous, a very unmistakable suggestion of pos- .
sible diablerie; and in truth there are plenty of them every whit as subtle
in the arts of coquetry as their white sisters. It is little wonder that so
many pioneers, including four county officers and the only editor in Klamath
County, have taken them to wives.
The young people of both sexes dress in the American fashion, and I
have seen plenty of them appareled in quite correct elegance—the young
men in passable broadcloth, spotless shirt-fronts, and neat black cravats;
the girls, in chaste, pretty, small-figured stuffs, with sacques, collars, rib-
boned hats, ete. Some of the young bloods array their Dulcineas for the
dance with lavish adornments, hanging on their dresses $30, $40, $50 worth
of dimes, quarters, and half-dollars arranged in strings.
The primitive dress of the men is simply a buckskin girdle about the
loins; of the women, a chemise of the same material, or of braided grass,
reaching from the breast to the knees. The hair is worn in two club-queues,
which are pulled forward over the shoulders. The squaws tattoo in blue
three narrow fern-leaves perpendicularly on the chin, one falling from each
corner of the mouth and one in the middle. For this purpose they are said
to employ soot gathered from a stone, and mingled with the juice of a cer-
tain plant. In their native state both sexes bathe the entire person every
SHELL-MONEY—GOVERNMENT. Ail
morning in cold water; but in the care of their cabins and the vicinity they
are sufficiently filthy.
The Karok is taciturn and indifferent toward his squaw and parents,
but seldom wantonly cruel; easy-going with his children; talkative and
merry with his peers; generous to the division of the last crumb; mercenary
and smiling to the white man; brave when need is, but cunning always;
fond of dancing; extremely curious, inquisitive, and quick to imitate; very
amorous; revengeful but avaricious, being always placable with money.
For money they make use of the red scalps of woodpeckers, which
rate at $2.50 to $5 apiece; and of the dentalium shell, of which they grind
off the tip and string it on strings. The shortest pieces are worth 25 cents,
the longest about $2, the value increasing rapidly with the length. ‘The
strings are usually about as long asa man’s arm. It is called al’-li-ko-chik (in
Yurok this signifies, literally, “Indian money”), not only on the Klamath,
but from Crescent City to Hel River, though the tribes using it speak sev-
eral different languages. When the Americans first arrived in the country,
an Indian would give $40 or $50 gold for a string, but now the abundance
of the supply has depreciated its value, and it is principally the old Indians
who esteem it.
The Karok are very democratic. They have a headman or captain in
each rancheria, though when on the war-path they are in a slight degree
subject to the control of one chief. But the authority of all these officers
is very slender. The murder of a man’s dearest relative may be com-
pounded for by the payment of money, the price of the average Indian’s
life being i/-sa pa-sd-ra (one string). If the money is paid without higgling,
the slayer and the avenger at once become boon companions. If not, the
avenger must have the murderer’s blood, and a system of retaliation is ini-
tiated which would be without end were it not that it may be arrested any
moment by the payment of money.
In war they do not take scalps, but decapitate the slain and bring in
the heads as trophies. They do battle with bows and arrows, and in a hand-
to-hand encounter, which often occurs, they clutch ragged stones in their
hands and maul each other with terrible and deadly effect. They some-
times fight duels with stones in this manner. Though arranged without
29 THE KAROK,
much formality they are conducted with a considerable degree of fairness,
the friends of the respective combatants standing around them and setting
them on their pins again when they fall.
There is no process of courtship, but the whole affair of love-making
is conducted by the father of the bride and the bridegroom expectant.
When a young Philander becomes enamored of some dusky Clorinda, he
goes straight to her father, and without any beating of the bush makes
him a plump offer of so or so many strings for her. They chaffer and drive
bargains, for they are an avaricious race. “ My ducats and my daughter”,
says the old Shylock. A wife is seldom purchased for less than half a
string, and when she belongs to an aristocratic family, is pretty, and skillful
in making acorn-bread and weaving baskets, she sometimes costs as high
as two strings—say $80 or $100. There is no wedding-ceremony, no cake,
no wine; but the bride follows her lord to his lodge, and they at once set
up their savage Lares and Penates.
No marriage is legal or binding unless preceded by the payment of
money, and that family is most aristocratic in which the most money was
paid for the wife. For this reason, it stands a young man well in hand to
be diligent in accumulating shell-money, and not to be a niggard in bar-
gaining with his father-in-law. So far is this shell-aristocracy carried, that
the children of a woman for whom no money was paid are accounted no
better than bastards, and the whole family are contemned. Bigamy is not
tolerated, even in the chief. A man may own as many women for slaves
as he ean purchase, but if he cohabits with more than one he brings upon
himself obloquy.
Before marriage, virtue is an attribute which can hardly be said to
exist in either sex, most of the young women being a common possession ;
but after marriage, when the dishonor of the woman would involve also
that of the husband, they live with tolerable chastity, for savages. Still,
no adultery is so flagrant but that the husband can be placated with money,
at about the rate that would be paid for murder. Virtue therefore is ex-
ceedingly rare as an innate quality, but is simply an enforced condition ;
and indeed the Karok language, though rich in its vocabulary, is said to
possess no equivalent for ‘“‘virtue ”.
LACK OF VIRTUE—DIVISION OF LABOR. 23
Notwithstanding this vicious system of intercourse among the young,
bastards are universally shunned and despised. ‘They and the children for
whose mothers no money was paid—who are illegitimate in fact, according
to Karok ideas—constitute a class of social outcasts, Indian Pariahs, who
can intermarry only among themselves.
here is an appalling malady which destroys thousands of the civil-
ized, but which was unknown to the Karoks before they became acquainted
with white men. Indeed in their simplicity when syphilis first appeared
among them they sometimes actually sought it, that they might revenge
themselves on their encmies. Their theory of disease is that it is a demo-
niacal possession; hence they believed that in communicating the contagion
to another they would free themselves from it, and the results from this mis-
take were disastrous in the highest degree.
There prevails in this tribe, as throughout California, a more equitable
division of labor than is commonly supposed to have obtained among the
Algonkin races. The men build the lodges; kill the game, and generally
bring it home; construct the fishing-booths, weirs, and nets ; catch the sal-
mon, and generally bring it in and spread it out to dry; cut and bring in
all the fuel for the assembly chambers ; help to gather acorns, nuts, and
berries; make the fish-gigs, bows, and arrows. The women gather and
bring in the wood used for secular purposes, that is, for cooking and for
heating the common lodges; dig the roots, and carry in most of the veg-
etable foods; weave their baskets; sometimes bring in and dry the salmon ;
do all the work of the scullery; make the clothing. It must always be
remembered that the men of savage tribes are not obliged to work like the
civilized, and everybody knows that when men are at home ina spell of
rainy weather, or for some other reason, they do not “help about the house”
any more than the Indian does. The Indian woman is eternally puddering
about something, because her utensils are so poor; but her husband does
nearly as much as the farmer or merchant; that is, he provides the food
and brings it home, unless it is some little matter of roots, berries, or the
like, and many is the Indian I have seen tending the baby with far more
patience and good nature than a civilized father would display. While on
a journey the man lays far the greatest burdens on his wife, but in the life
24 THE KAROK.
at home there is not more in him to complain of than there is in the conduct
of thousands of white husbands. Still, the women are regarded as drudges.
The Karok have a conception of a Supreme Being, whom they call
Ka-ré-ya. The root of this word is the same as that of ‘‘ Karok”, and prob-
ably also Kal’-leh Kal-l¢, in the Pomo, signifying “above”; but with the
curious accretive capacity of Indian languages, it is expanded to mean
“Phe Old Man Above”. IKareya sometimes descends to earth to instruct
the prophets or shamans, when he appears as a vencrable man clad in a
close-fitting tunic, with long white hair flowing down his shoulders, and
bearing a medicine-bag. When creating the world, he sat on the Sacred
Stool, which is still preserved by the Kareya Indian, and on which he’sits
on the occasion of the great annual Dance of Propitiation. But as among
most tribes in California, the coyote is the most useful and practical deity
they have. They also believe in certain spooks or bogeys, which run after
people at night in the forest, and leave tracks which when seen in the
morning bear a suspicious resemblance to horse-tracks.
The assembly chamber is constructed wholly underground, oblong,
about ten by six feet, and high enough for a man to stand in, puncheoned
up inside, and covered with a flattish roof level with the earth, and air-tight
except for the little hatchway at one side. It is club room, council house,
dormitory, sudatory, and medical examination room in one, and is devoted
exclusively to masculine occupation. Lafiteau says, among the eastern
Indians the man never enters the private wigwam of his wife except under
cover ef the darkness; but here it is the men’s apartment which is taboo.
No squaw may enter the assembly chamber, on penalty of death, except.
when undergoing her examination for the degree of M. D. During the
rainy season when fires are comfortable, they are kept burning in the
assembly chambers day and night; and there are always enough of them in
each village to furnish sleeping-room for all the adult males thereof.
In summer the men occupy the common wickiup (this is a word used in
California and the Territories, signifying a brushwood booth ; it is imported
from the Sioux), together with their wives; but in winter they sleep by
themselves in the assembly chamber, and I suspect they use the terrors of
superstitious interdict to banish the women from them, in order to enjoy
ASSEMBLY CHAMBER—GATHERING SACRED FUEL. 25
the warm and cosy snuggery themselves. But, air tight as they are, and
heated perpetually (for once kindled, the fire must not be suffered to go
out until spring), the atmosphere in them is simply infernal.
But the Indians are consistent in the matter of the assembly chamber.
As they suffer no woman to enter it, so they allow none to gather the wood
burned therein. Fuel for the assembly chamber is sacred, and no squaw may
touch it. It must be cut green from a standing tree, that tree must be on
top of the highest hill overlooking the Klamath, and the branches must be
trimmed off in a certain particular manner. The Karok selects a tall and
sightly fir or pine, climbs up within about twenty feet of the top, then
commences and trims off all the limbs until he reaches the top where he
leaves two and a top-knot, resembling a man’s head and arms outstretched.
All this time he is weeping and sobbing piteously, shedding real tears,
and so he continues to do while he descends, binds the wood in a fagot,
takes it upon his back, and goes down to the assembly chamber. While
erying and sobbing thus, as he goes along bending under his back load of
limbs, no amount of flouting or jeering from a white man will elicit from
him anything more than a glance of sorrowful reproach. When asked
afterward why he weeps when cutting and bringing in the sacred fuel, if
he makes any reply at all, it will be simply, “For luck”.
Arrived at the assembly chamber he replenishes the fire making a
dense and bitter smudge, while all the occupants lie around with their faces
close to the floor to keep themselves from smothering. When they are in a
reek of perspiration they clamber up the notched pole at the side, swarming
out from the hatchway like rats, and run and heave themselves neck and
heels into the river—all “for luck ”.
The taboo is lifted from the assembly chamber only while a squaw is
undergoing the ordeal which admits her to the mysterious realm of thera-
peutics. This ordeal consists simply in a dance, wherein the woman hold-
ing her feet together leaps up and down, and chants in a bald, monoto-
nous sing-song’ until she falls utterly exhausted. For a man the test is
something more rigid. He retires into the forest and remains ten days,
partaking of no meat the while, and of just enough acorn-porridge to keep
26 THE KAROK.
him alive. Then, at the expiration of this rigorous fast, he returns and
jumps up and down in the assembly chamber like the woman.
There are two classes of shamans—the root-doctors and the barking
doctors—the latter reminding one somewhat of the medieval spagyrics. It
is the province of the barking-doctor to diagnose the case, which she (most
doctors are women) does by squatting down like a dog on his haunches
before the patient, and barking at him like that noble and faithful animal
for hours together. After her comes the root-doctor, and with numerous
potions, poultices, ete., seeks to medicate the part where the other has dis-
covered the ailment resides. No medicinal simples are of any avail, what-
ever are their virtues, unless certain powwows and mummeries are performed
over them.
It will be perceived that the barking-doctor is the more important func-
tionary of the two. In addition to her diagnostic functions, she takes
charge of the “poisoned” cases, which among these superstitious people
are very numerous. They believe they frequently fall victims to witches,
who cause a snake, frog, lizard, or other noxious reptile to fasten itself to the
body and grow through the skin into the viscera. In this case the barking-
doctor first discovers, secundum artem, in what portion of the body the rep-
tile lurks, then commences sucking the place, and sucks until the skin is
broken and blood flows. Then she herself takes an emetic and vomits up a
frog or something, which she pretends was drawn from the patient, but
which of course she had previously swallowed. 2
In a case of simple “ poisoning”, the barking-doctor gives the sufferer
an emetic, and causes him to vomit into a small basket. The basket is then
covered and held before the patient while he names in succession the various
persons whom he suspects of having poisoned him. At each name men-
tioned the doctor uncovers the basket and looks in. So long as wrong
names are mentioned the vomited matter remains; but when the right one
is hit upon, presto! it is gone, and when the doctor looks in the basket it is
empty.
The Karok hold their medicines personally responsible for the lives of
their patients. If one loses a case he must return his fee; more than that,
DOCTORS’ FEES. 27
if he receives an offer of a certain sum to attend a person and refuses, and
the individual dies, he must pay the relatives from his own substance an
amount equivalent to the fee which was tendered him. A shaman who
becomes famous is often summoned to go twenty or thirty miles, and
receives a proportionately large reward, sometimes a horse, sometimes two,
when the invalid is rich.
BUREAU OF
AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
}
}
i8se
LIBRA RY
CHAPTER. Tk.
THE KAROK, CONTINUED.
The first of September brings a red-letter day in the Karok ephem-
eris, the great Dance of Propitiation, at which all the tribe are present,
together with deputations from the Yurok, the Hti-pa, and others. They
call it sif’-san-di pik-i-d-vish, (at Happy Camp, szi-san-ni nik-i-d-vish), which
signifies, literally, “‘working the earth”. The object of it is to propitiate
the spirits of the earth and the forest, in order to prevent disastrous land-
slides, forest fires, earthquakes, drought, and other calamities.
All the villages are then deserted, left unprotected and undefended, for
all the women and all the children and the old men must attend the grand
anniversary. They come in fleets of canoes up and down the Klamath, or
on foot in joyous throngs along the trails beside the river, the squaws bring-
ing in their baskets victuals enough to last their families as long as possible,
a fortnight or more. But singular to say, neither on this nor on any other
occasion do they have any feasting. Each family partake of their own
plain messes, though the greatest generosity prevails, and strangers or per-
sons without families are freely invited to share their simple repasts of dried
salmon and acorn-bread or panada.
Some Frenchman has said we have a hundred religions and one gravy.
The California Indians have a hundred dances and one acorn-porridge.
In the first place an Indian of a robust frame, able to endure the terri-
ble ordeal of fasting to which he is subjected, goes away into the mountains
with an attendant to remain ten days. He is called the Kareya Indian,
which may be translated almost literally “‘God-man”; and their evident be-
lief is that by the keen anguish he undergoes, he propitiates the spirits vi-
cariously in behalf of the whole tribe. During these ten days he partakes
of nothing whatever, theoretically, though in case of extreme suffering it is
probable that he takes a little acorn-porridge or pinole; but he must abstain
28
Lancing Song of the Karok.
A larath: Liver.
= Rae Ss ee Dee er Ee) Se ee ee
aaa as == Be Sa Ee Bs
: Baa as SS Be
hey BGS bee ES Go ee eee re ee SR eee eer le oe)
0
. Hinnowe tto-linne o-hin-no hinnowe o-him-no nohinno
_SS LE ae ar et eer eee Bee SS eS ES ES ES
| 2 Sen Le Ee ee ey ee Se 2 en eee Ce 2 Lee ee 2 ee ee ee
5-4 | 1} Ba Ea a SRS Bee he eS ae ear Ee eo 2
SSS SS See SS a Se eee eT) eee ee SSS
Hinnowe no-hinno o-hin-no hinnowe o-himno nohinno
Konkau Dancing Sone
Un —-TtLoO win- TLO UTL— TtLO wine -TLO urr- ro wuirno uUrrL- TO
¥
J
“pitas ae EE
a7
DANCE OF PROPITIATION. 29
from flesh on penalty of death. The attendant is allowed to eat sparingly
of acorn-porridge only.
Meantime what is going on in camp? During the long days while they
are awaiting the return of the Kareya Indian, the men and squaws amuse
themselves with song and lively dance, wherein they join together. Various
games are played; gambling is indulged in. But singing and dancing are
the principal amusements, and considerable time is devoted to teaching the
boys to dance in imitation of the solemn and momentous ceremonial which
is to be observed when the Kareya Indian returns.
Sometimes in a dithyrambic frenzy, men and women mingling together,
they wildly leap and dance; now each one chanting a different story, ex-
temporized on the spot in the manner of the Italian improvisatore, and yet
keeping perfect time, and now all uniting in a chorus. Then again sitting
in a solemn circle on the ground, or slowly walking in a ring around the
fire, hand joined in hand, while the flames gleam upon their swarthy faces,
ripple in the folds of their barbaric paludaments of tasseled deer-skin, and
light up their grotesque chaplets and club-queues in nodding shadows, they
intone those weird and eldritch chantings, in which blend at once an under-
tone of infinite pathos and a hoarse, deathly rattle of despair; and which I
never yet have learned to listen to without a certain feeling of terror.
And now at last the attendant arrives on the summit of some overlook-
ing mountain, and with warning voice announces the approach of the Ka-
reya Indian. In all haste the people flee in terror, for it is death to behold
him. Gaunt and haggard and hollow-eyed, reduced to a perfect skeleton
by his terrible sufferings, he staggers feebly into camp, leaning on the
shoulder of the attendant, or perhaps borne in the arms of those who have
been summoned to bring him in from the mountains; for in such an extreme
instance a secular Indian may assist, provided his eyes are bandaged.
Long before he is in sight the people have all disappeared. ‘They take
refuge in the deeps of the forest, or enter into their wickiups and cabins,
fling themselves down with their faces upon the ground, and cover their
eyes with their hands. Some wrap many thicknesses of blankets about
their heads. Little children are carefully gathered into the booths, and.
their faces hidden deep in folds of clothing or blankets, lest they should in-
30 THE KAROK.
advertently behold that walking skeleton and die the death. All the camp
is silent, hushed, and awe-struck as the vicegerent of the great Kareya
enters.
Now he approaches the assembly chamber, and is assisted to descend
intoit. J*eeble and trembling with the pangs of hunger, he seats himself upon
the sacred stool. 'Tinder and flint are brought to him. With his last remain-
ing strength he strikes out a spark and nourishes it intoa blaze. The sacred
smoke arises. As no common creature may look upon the Kareya Indian
and live, so also none may behold the sacred smoke with impunity. Let
his eyes rest upon it even for one moment, and he is doomed to death. The
intercession of the Kareya Indian alone can avert the direful consequences
of his inadvertence. If by any mischance one is so unfortunate as to glance
at it as it swirls up above the subterranean chamber, seeming to arise
out of the ground, he goes down into it, prostrates him before the Kareya
Indian sitting on the sacred stool, and proffers him shell-money. The
priest demands $20, $30, $40, according to the circumstances. He then
lights his pipe, puffs a few whiffs of smoke over the head of the unfortunate
man, mumbling certain formularies and incantations, and his transgression
is remitted.
After the lapse of a certain time the people return from their hiding-
places, and prepare for the last great solemnity—the Dance of Propitiation.
They arrange themselves in a long line—the men only, for the women do
not participate in this part of the ceremony. They are vestured in all their
savage trappings, their jingling beadery, their tasseled robes of peltry,
their buckskin bandoleers passing under one shoulder and over the other,
and gayly starred with the scarlet scalps of woodpeckers, to the value of
$300 or $400 on each. They brandish aloft in their hands their finest
bows and arrows, inlaid with sinew and bits of shells, with glinting strings
of pink and purple abalones; and if any one can boast of a white or black
deer-skin as a trophy of his prowess, he is accounted beloved of the spirits.
No Indian can participate in the dance unless he has at least a raccoon’s or
a deer’s head, with the neck stuffed, and the remainder of the skin flowing
loose, elevated on a pole within easy eyeshot.
Then two or three singers begin an improvised chant, a kind of invo-
DANCE FOR SALMON—HUNTING. 31
cation to the spirits, and occasionally they all unite in a fixed choral which
is meaningless, and repeated over and over ad libitum. Both in the recita-
tive where each singer makes an entirely independent invocation, and in
the choral, they keep time wonderfully well, and that without beating time.
The dancers in the line merely lift and lower one foot, in slow and regular
accord. The ceremony continues about two hours, during which profound
stillness and decorum prevail among the spectators.
When this dance of religion is ended, all gravity vanishes forthwith;
wild and hilarious shouts resound throughout the camp; the gayest dances
are resumed, in which both sexes unite, and in the evening there ensues a
grossly obscene debauch.
The fire has now been kindled for the rainy season, and once the flame
is set going in the several assembly chambers, it must not be suffered to
expire during the winter.
In the vernal season, when the winds blow soft from the south, and
the salmon begin to run up the Klamath, there is another dies fastus, the
dance for salmon, of equal moment with the other. They celebrate it to
insure a good catch of salmon. ‘The Kareya Indian retires into the mount-
ains and fasts the same length of time as in autumn. On his return the
people flee, while he repairs to the river, takes the first salmon of the catch,
eats a portion of the same, and with the residue kindles the sacred smoke
in the sudatory. No Indian may take a salmon before this dance is held,
nor for ten days after it, even if his family are starving.
Before going out on a chase the Karok hunter must abstain three days
from touching any woman, else he will miss the quarry. Mr. A. Somes relates
an incident which happened to himself when hunting once in company
with a venerable Indian. They set out betimes and scoured the mountains
with diligence all day, and were like to return home empty-handed, when
the old savage declared roundly that the white man was trifling with him,
and that he must have touched some woman. No ridicule could shake his
belief, so he withdrew a few paces, fell on his knees, turned his face
devoutly toward heaven, and prayed fluently and fervently for the space
of full twenty minutes. Somes was so much impressed with the old
savage’s earnestness that he did not disturb him. Although able to speak
the language well, he understood nothing the white-haired petitioner uttered.
32 THE KAROK.
When he made an end of praying he arose solemnly, saying they would
now have success. They started on, and it so fell out that they started up
a fine pricket in a few minutes and Somes picked him off, whereupon the
old Karok was triumphant in his faith as was ever fire-worshiping Gheber
over the rescue of one of his conquerors from the errors of Islam.
Also, the fisherman will take no salmon if the poles of which his
spearing-booth are made were gathered on the river-side, where the salmon
might have seen them. They must be brought from the top of the highest
adjacent mountain. So will they equally labor in vain if they use the
poles a second year in booths or weirs, “because the old salmon will have
told the young ones about them”. It is possible that the latter is only a
facetious excuse made to the whites for their indolence in allowing the
winter freshet to sweep away their booths every year.
When the salmon are a trifle dilatory in coming up in the spring, it is
the good pleasure of the ‘Big Indians” to believe that some old harridan
has bewitched them. In such case they call an indignation meeting, de-
nounce the suspect vigorously by name, and send a messenger down to her
booth to warn her that unless the spell is released within a certain time,
they will descend upon her in a body and put her to instant death. Before
sending this warning however, they generally wait until a few days before
the time when the salmon are certain to come, or they have private advices
that they are coming; so their dupes cry out, “Ah! they are terrible fel-
lows after witches”!
In respect of a woman they have a superstition which reminds one of
the old Israelitish uses. Every month she is banished without the village
to live in a booth by herself, and no man may touch her on penalty of
death. She is not permitted to partake of any meat (including fish) for a
certain number of days, and only sparingly of acorn-porridge. If a woman
at this time touches or even approaches any medicine about to be given to
a sick person he will die the death.
The Karok language is said by those acquainted with it to be copious,
sonorous, and rich in new combinations. A great many verbs form the
tenses from different roots. When spoken by some stalwart, deep-voiced
Nestor of the tribe, it sounds more like the Spanish, with its stately proces-
sion of periods, than any other Indian language I have heard, and it is far
LANGUAGE—BURIAL—HONORING THE DEAD. aye
removed from the odious gutturalness of the Yurok. In such words as
“Kareya” and “Karok” they trill the “r” in a manner which is quite
Spanish, and which an American can scarcely imitate. They are ready
and fertile in invention; no new object can be presented to them but they
will presently name it in their own language, either by coining a word or
by applying the name of some ‘similar object with which they are familiar.
They bury the dead in the posture observed by ourselves, and profess
abhorrence for incremation. Neither do they disfigure their countenances
with blotches of pitch, as do the Scott River Indians. A widow cuts off
her hair close to the head, and so wears it with commendable fidelity to the
memory of her dead husband until she remarries, though this latter event
may be hastened quite as unseemly as it was by Hamlet’s mother. The
person’s ordinary apparel is buried with him in the grave, but all his gala-
robes, his bandoleer, his deer-skins, and his strings of polished bits of
abalones, are swung over poles laid across the picket-fence. It is seldom
that a grave is seen nowadays which is not inclosed by a neat, white picket
fence, copied after the American, for they are very imitative. If it is a
squaw, all her large conical baskets are set in a row around the grave,
turned bottom side up.
They inter the dead close beside their cabins in order that they may
religiously watch and protect them from peering intrusion, and insure them
tranquil rest in the grave. Near Orleans Bar I passed a village wherein
the graves were numerous; every one with its tasty picket-fence and its
barbaric treasure of apparel hanging over it. As the long strings of polished
shells swayed gently to and fro in the evening breeze, with the purple, and
pink, and green brightly glinting to the setting sun, while the streets of the
village were silent and peaceful in their Sabbath evening repose, the faint
clicking of the shells seemed to me one of the most sad and mournful sounds
I ever heard. Each little conical barrow was freshly rounded up with clean
earth or sand, on which were strewn snow-white pebbles from the river-bed.
How well and truly the Karok reverence the memory of the dead is
shown by the fact that the highest crime one can commit is the pet-chi-é-ri,
the mere mention of the dead relative’s name. It is a deadly insult to the
survivors, and can be atoned for only by the same amount of blood-money
paid for willful murder. In default of that they will have the villain’s blood.
on GC
34 THE KAROK.
‘Macbeth does murder sleep”. At the mention of his name the moulder-
ing skeleton turns in his grave and groans. They do not like strangers
even to inspect the burial-place ; and when I was leaning over the pickets,
looking at one of them, an aged Indian approached and silently but urgently
beckoned me to go away.
They believe that the soul of a good Karok goes to the Happy Western
Land beyond the great ocean. That they have a well-grounded assurance
of an immortality beyond the grave is proven, if no otherwise, by their
beautiful and poetical custom of whispering a message in the ear of the
dead. Rosalino Camarena, husband to a Karok woman, and speaking the
language well, relates the followimg incident illustrative of this custom:
One of lis children died, and he had decently prepared it for burial,
carried it in his own arms and laid it in its lonely grave on the steep mount-
ain-side, amid the green and golden ferns, where the spiry pines mournfully
soughed in the wind, chanting their sad threnody, while the swamp-stained
Klamath roared over the rocks far, far below. He was about to cast the
first shovelful of earth down upon it, when an Indian woman, a near rela-
tive of the child, descended into the grave, bitterly weeping, knelt down
beside the little one, and amid that shuddering and broken sobbing which
only women know in their passionate sorrow, murmured in its ear:
“(), darling, my dear one, good-bye! Nevermore shall your little hands
softly clasp these old withered cheeks, and your pretty feet shall print the
moist earth around my cabin nevermore, You are going on a long journey
in the spirit-land, and you must go alone, for none of us can go with you.
Listen, then, to the words which I speak to you and heed them well, for I
speak the truth. In the spirit-land there are two roads. One of them is a path
of roses, and it leads to the Happy Western Land beyond the great water,
where you shall see your dear mother. The other is a path strewn with
thorns and briers, and leads, I know not whither, to an evil and dark land,
full of deadly serpents, where you would wander forever. O, dear child,
choose you the path of roses, which leads to the Happy Western Land, a
fair and sunny land, beautiful as the morning. And may the great Kareya
help you to walk in it to the end, for your little tender feet must walk alone.
O, darling, my dear one, good-bye!”
OAs 2 Tan. ol Tek.
KAROK FABLES.
There are many apologues and fables in vogue among the Karok,
which gifted squaws relate to their children on winter evenings and through
the weary days of the rainy season, while they are cooped up in their
cabins; and some of them are not entirely unworthy of a place in that
renowned old book written by one Adsop. A. few specimens are given
here. ;
FABLE OF THE ANIMALS.
A great many hundred snows ago, Kareya, sitting on the Sacred
Stool, created the world. First, he made the fishes in the big water, then
the animals on the green land, and last of all, The Man. But the animals
were all alike yet in power, and it was not yet ordained which should be
for food to others, and which should be food for The Man. Then Kareyz
bade them all assemble together in a certain place, that The Man might
give each his power and his rank. So the animals all met together, a
great many hundred snows ago, on an evening when the sun was set, that
they might wait over night for the coming of The Man on the morrow.
Now Kareya commanded The Man to make bows and arrows, as many as
there were animals, and to give the longest to the one that should have the
most power, and the shortest to the one that should have the least. So he
did, and after nine sleeps his work was ended, and the bows and arrows
which he made were very many.
Now the animals being gathered together in one place, went to sleep,
that they might rise on the morrow and go forth to meet The Man. But
the coyote was exceedingly cunning, above all the beasts that were, he
was so cunning. So he considered within himself how he might get the
35
36 KAROK FABLES.
longest bow, and so have the greatest power, and have all animals for
his meat. He determined to stay awake all night, while the others slept,
and so go forth first in the morning and get the longest bow. This he
devised within his cunning mind, and then he laughed to himself, and
stretched out his snout on his fore-paws, and pretended to sleep, like the
others. But about midnight he began to get sleepy, and he had to walk
around camp and scratch his eyes a considerable time to keep them open.
But still he grew more sleepy, and he had to skip and jump about like a
good one to keep awake. He made so much noise this way that he woke
up some of the other animals, and he had to think of another plan. About
the time the morning star came up, he was so sleepy that he couldn’t keep
his eyes open any longer. Then he took two little sticks and sharpened
them at the ends, and propped open his eyelids, whereupon he thought he
was safe, and he concluded he would take just a little nap, with his eyes
open, watching the morning star. But in a few minutes he was sound
asleep, and the sharp sticks pierced through his eyelids, and pinned them
fast together.
So the morning star mounted up very swiftly, and then there came a
peep of daybreak, and the birds began to sing, and the animals began to
rise and stretch themselves, but still the coyote lay fast asleep. At last it
was broad daylight, and then the sun rose, and all the animals went forth
to meet The Man. He gave the longest bow to the cougar, so he had the
greatest power of all; and the second longest to the bear; and so on, giv-
ing the next to the last to the poor frog. But he still had the shortest one
left, and he-cried out, ““What animal have I missed?” Then the animals
began to look about, and they soon spied the coyote lying fast asleep, with
the sharp sticks pinning his eyelids together. Upon that all the animals
set up a great laugh, and they jumped on the coyote and danced upon
him. Then they led him to The Man—tor he could see nothing because of
the sticks—and The Man-pulled out the sticks, and gave him the shortest
bow of all, which would shoot an arrow hardly more than a foot. And all
the animals laughed very much.
But The Man took pity on the coyote, because he was now the weakest of
all animals, weaker even than the frog, and he prayed to Kareya for him,
ORIGIN OF SALMON. iff
and Kareya gave him cunning, ten times more than before, so that he was
cunning above all the animals of the wood. So the coyote was a friend to
The Man and to his children after him, and helped him, and did many
things for him, as we shall see hereafter.
In the legendary lore of the Karok the coyote plays the same conspic-
uous part that Reynard does in ours, and the sagacious tricks that are ac-
credited to him are endless. When one Karok has killed another, he fre-
quently barks like the coyote in the belief that he will thereby be endued
with so much of that animal’s cunning that he will be able to elude the
punishment due to his crime.
ORIGIN OF SALMON.
When Kareya made all things that have breath, he first made the fishes
in the big water, then the animals, and last of all The Man. But Kareya
did not yet let the fishes come up the Klamath, and thus the Karok had not
enough food, and were sore ahungered. There were salmon in the big
water, many and very fine to eat, but no Indian could catch them in the
big water; and Kareya had made a great fish-dam at the mouth of the Kla-
math and closed it fast, and given the key to two old hags to keep, so that
the salmon could not go up the river. And the hags kept the key that
Kareya had given them, and watched it day and night without sleeping,
so that no Indian could come near it.
Then the Karok were sore disturbed in those days for lack of food, and
many died, and their children cried to them because they had no meat. But
the coyote befriended tthe Karok, and helped them, and took it on himself
to bring the salmon up the Klamath. First he went to an alder tree and
gnawed off a piecé of bark, for the bark of the alder tree after it is taken
off presently turns red and looks like salmon. He took the piece of alder-
bark in his teeth and journeyed far down the Klamath until he came to
the mouth of it at the big water. Then he rapped at the door of the cabin
where the old hags lived, and when they opened it he said, ‘“(Ai-yu-kwoi’”,
for he was very polite. And they did not wonder to hear the coyote speak,
for all the animals could speak in those days. They did not suspect the
coyote, and so asked him to come into their cabin and sit by the fire. This
38 KAROK FABLES.
he did, and after he had warmed himself a while he commenced nibbling
his piece of alder-bark. One of the hags seeing this said to the other, ‘See,
he has some salmon!” So they were deceived and thrown off their guard,
and presently one of them rose, took down the key and went to get some
salmon to cook for themselves. Thus the coyote saw where the key was
kept, but he was not much better off than before for it was too high for
him to reach it. The hags cooked some salmon for supper and ate it, but
they gave the coyote none.
So he staid in the cabin all night with the hags pretending to sleep,
but he was thinking how to get the key. He could think of no plan at all,
but in the morning one of the hags took down the key and started to get
some salmon again, and then the coyote happened to think of a way as
quick as a flash. He jumped up and darted under the hag, which threw
her down, and caused her to fling the key a long way off. The coyote
quickly seized it in his teeth and ran and opened the fish-dam before the
hags could catch him. Thus the salmon were allowed to go up the Kla-
math, and the Karok had plenty of food.
ORIGIN OF FIRE.
The Karok now had food enough, but they had no fire to cook it with.
Far away toward the rising sun, somewhere in a land which no Karok had
ever seen, Kareya had made fire and hidden it in a casket, which he gave
to two old hags to keep, lest some Karok should steal it. So now the
coyote befriended the Karok again, and promised to bring them some fire.
He went out and got together a great company of animals, one of every
kind from the lion down to the frog. These he stationed in a line all
along the road, from the home of the Karok to the far-distant land where
the fire was, the weakest animal nearest home and the strongest near the
fire. Then he took an Indian with him and hid him under a hill, and went
to the cabin of the hags who kept the casket, and rapped on the door. One
of them came out, and he said, “Good evening”, and they replied, ‘‘Good
evening”. Then he said, ‘It’s a pretty cold night; can you let me sit by
your fire?” And they said, “Yes, come in”. So he went in and stretched
himself out before the fire, and reached his snout out toward the blaze,
ORIGIN OF FIRE. 3
and sniffed the heat, and felt very snug and comfortable. Finally he
stretched his nose out along his fore-paws, and pretended to go to sleep,
though he kept the corner of one eye open watching the old hags. But they
never slept, day or night, and he spent the whole night watching and think-
inz to no purpose. :
So next morning he went out and told the Indian whom he had hidden
under the hill that he must make an attack on the hags’ cabin, as if he were
about to steal some fire, while he (the coyote) was in it. He then went
back and asked the hags to let him in again, which they did, as they did
not think a coyote could steal any fire. He stood close by the casket of
fire, and when the Indian made a rush on the cabin, and the hags dashed
out after him at one door, the coyote seized a brand in his teeth and ran
out at the other door. He almost flew over the ground, but the hags saw
the sparks flying and gave chase, and gained on him fast. But by the
time he was out of breath he reached the lion, who took the brand and
ran with it to the next animal, and so on, each animal barely having time
to give it to the next before the hags came up.
The next to the last in the line was the ground-squirrel. He took the
brand and ran so fast with it that his tail got afire, and he curled it up
over his back, and so burned the black spot we see to this day just behind
his fore-shoulders. Last of all was the frog, but he, poor brute! couldn't
run at all, so he opened his mouth wide and the squirrel chucked the fire
into it, and he swallowed it down with a gulp. Then he turned and gave
a great jump, but the hags were so close in pursuit that one of them seized
him by the tail (he was a tadpole then) and tweaked it off, and that is the
reason why frogs have no tails to this day. He swam under water a long
distance, as long as he could hold his breath, then came up and spit out
the fire into a log of driftwood, and there it has staid safe ever since, so
that when an Indian rubs two pieces of wood together the fire comes
forth.
THE COYOTES DANCING WITH THE STARS.
After Kareya gave the coyote so much cunning he became very
ambitious, and wanted to do many things which were very much too hard
for him, and which Kareya never intended he should do. One of them
40) KAROK FABLES.
once got so conceited that he thought he could dance with the stars, and
so he asked one of them to fly close to the top of a mountain and take him
by the paw, and let him dance once around through the sky. The star
only laughed at him and winked its eye, but the next night when it came
around, it sailed close to the mountain and took the coyote by the paw,
and flew away with him through the sky. But the foolish coyote soon grew
tired of dancing this way, and could not wait for the star to come around
to the mountain again. He looked down at the earth and it seemed quite
near to him, and as the star could not wait or fly low just then, he let go
and leaped down. Poor coyote! he was ten whole snows in falling, and
when he struck the earth he was smashed as flat as a willow mat.
Another one, not taking warning from this dreadful example, asked a
star to let him dance once round through the sky. The star tried to dissuade
him from the foolhardy undertaking, but it was of no avail; the silly ani-
mal would not be convinced. Every night when the star came around, he
would squat on top of a mountain and bark until the star grew tired of his
noise. So one night it sailed close down to the mountain and told the
coyote to be quick for it could not wait, and up he jumped and caught it
with his paw, and went dancing away through the great blue heaven. He,
too, soon grew tired, and asked the star to stop and let him rest a little
while. But the star told him it could not stop, for Kareya had made it to
keep on moving all the while. Then he tried to get on the star and ride,
but it was too small. Thus he was compelled to keep on dancing, dangling
down from one paw, and one piece of his body after another dropped off
until there was only one paw left hanging to the star.
The interpretation of these fables is not difficult. That one about the
coyotes dancing with the stars manifestly took its origin from the Indians
observing meteors or shooting-stars. A falling star is one which is sailing
down to the mountain to take on board the adventurous beast, while the
large meteor which bursts in mid-heaven with visible sparks falling from it,
is the unlucky eronaut dropping down limb by limb. Probably that one
concerning the origin of salmon hints at some ancient obstruction in the
mouth of the Klamath, a cataract or something of the sort, which prevented
the fish from ascending. The fable respecting the origin of fire, like the
KLAMATH JIM. 4]
eastern Indian story of Michabo, the Great White One, is simply a sun-
myth, mingled with a very weak analogue to the Greek fire-myth of
Prometheus. The bringing of the fire-brand from the east carried by the
various animals in succession, is the daily progress of the sun, while the
pursuing hags are the darkness which follows after. Of course this poor
little story of the Indians is not for a moment to be compared with the
majestic tragedy wrought out by the sublime and gorgeous imagination of
the Greeks ; and it suffers seriously even when set alongside of the ingenious
Algonkin myth of Michabo. It falls not a little behind it in imaginative
power, albeit there is in it, as in most of the California fables, an element
of practical humor and slyness which is lacking in the Atlantic Indian
legends. Though the Karok are probably the finest tribe of the State, their
imagination is not only feeble but gratuitously filthy. This is shown in
their tradition of the flood, which cannot be recited here on account of its
obscenity.
STORY OF KLAMATH JIM.
Early in the year 1871, an Indian called Klamath Jim murdered
a white man in Orleans Bar, and by due process of law he was tried,
condemned, and hanged. In the presence of his doom, even when the fatal
hour was hard by, he exhibited the strange and stoical apathy of his race
in prospect of dissolution. He might almost have been said, like Daniel
Webster, to have coolly anatomized his sensations as he went down to his
death. He asked the sheriff curious and many questions on the grim topic,
how the hanging was performed, how long it lasted, whether it would give
him any pain, whether an Indian could die as quickly when hanging in an
erect posture as when lying in his blanket, whether his spirit would not also
be strangled and rendered unable to fly away to the Happy Western
Land, ete.
In going to the gallows he walked with nerve and balance, tranquilly
puffing a cigar, and he mounted the scaffold with an unfaltering tread, daintily
held out his cigar and filliped off the ashes with his little finger, took a final
whiff, then tossed it over his shoulder. He assisted the sheriff in adjusting
the noose about his neck, shook that officer’s trembling hand without the
tremor of a muscle, spoke a few parting words without the least quivering
42 KAROK FABLES.
of voice, and then the drop descended and his soul went suddenly out on
its dark flight.
The Karok had quietly acquiesced in the execution, but they were not
well pleased, and now though they dared not make open insurrection
against the whites, their astute prophets and soothsayers concocted a story
which was intended to encourage their countrymen ultimately to revolt.
They pretended they had a revelation, and that all the Karok who had
died since the beginning of time had experienced a resurrection, and were
returning from the land of shadows to wreak a grim vengeance on the
whites and sweep them utterly off the earth. They were somewhere far
toward the rising sun advancing in uncounted armies, and Kareya himself
was at their head leading them on, and with his hands parting the
mountains to right and left, opening a level road for the slow-coming
myriads. The prophets pretended to have been out and seen this great
company that no man could number, and they reported to their willing
dupes that they were pygmies in stature, but like the Indians of to-day in
every other regard. Klamath Jim was with them—the soul and inspiration
of this majestic movement of vengeance, counsellor to Kareya himself.
It is not necessary to follow this cock-and-bull story any further; of
course nothing came of the matter, for the Indians had once tasted the
quality of George Crook’s cold lead, and they were very willing to let
these dead-walkers try their hands on the whites first. No doubt they very
earnestly hoped the dead would return and assist them in sweeping the
Americans off the earth, and they did all that lay in human power to bring
them back. They danced for months, sometimes a half day at a time
continuously ; and when I passed that way again in 1872, about nine
months afterward, they were dancing still. The old Indians had profound
faith in the prediction, saying that every man who faithfully danced would
liberate some near relative’s soul from the bonds of death, and restore him
to earth; but the young Indians, who spoke English, were heretical, and
were a great eyesore to their elders. Pa-chi-ta, a Karok chief at Scott’s
Bar, told me that in this dance red paint was used for the first time in their
history as a symbol of war. Two poles were planted in the ground, «pirally
DANCING TO RAISE THE DEAD. 43
painted with red and black streaks, and streamers (‘‘handkerchiefs”, the
Indians called them) fastened atop; then with their bodies painted in like
manner and feathers on their heads, they danced around them in a circle.
This excitement raged all over Northern California, especially among the
Yurok, Karok, and Shasta, until the Modok war broke out, November,
1872, when it gradually subsided.
ChB ASP Man RP elev as
THE YU-ROK.
This large tribe inhabit the Klamath, from the junction of the Trinity
to the mouth, and the coast from Gold Bluff up to a point about six miles
above the mouth of the Klamath. Their name is of Karok origin; they
themselves have only names for separate villages, as Ri-kwa, Mi-ta, Pek’-wan,
Sri’-gon, Wait’-spek:.
Living nearer the coast, they are several shades darker than the Karok,
frequently almost black ; and they are not so fine a race, having lower fore-
heads and more projecting chins. On the coast they incline to be pudgy
in stature, though on the Klamath there are many specimens of splendid
savagery. Like all California women, their mohelas (a Spanish word of
general use) are rather handsome in their free and untoiling youth, but
after twenty-five or thirty they break down under their heavy burdens and
become ugly. Both Karok and Yurok plant their feet in walking nearly as
broadly as Americans. They have the same tattooing and much the same
customs as their up-river neighbors, but a totally different language. They
usually learn each other’s language, and two of them will sit and patter
gossip for hours, each speaking in his own tongue. A white man listening
may understand one, but never a word of the other.
The Yurok is notable for its gutturalness, and there are words and
syllables which contain no perceptible vowel sounds, as mrh-prh, “nose” ;
chlek'-chih, “earth” ; wrh'-yen-eks, “child”. A Welshman told me he had
detected in the language the peculiar Welsh sound of “Il”, which is inex-
pressible in English. In conversation they terminate many words with a
strong aspiration, which is imperfectly indicated by the letter “h”—a sort
of catching of the sound, immediately followed by a letting out of the
residue of the breath with a quick little grunt. This makes their speech
4
NUMERALS—CHIEFS—HOUSES. 45
harsh and halting; the-voice often seems to come to a dead stop in the
middle of a sentence.
The following table of numerals will show how entirely different are
the languages of the three tribes on the Klamath:
YUROK. KAROK. | MODOK.
|
|
1 | spin’-i-ka. i-sa. nos.
2 | neh’-ekh. | akh’-uk. laf. ©
3 | nakh’-kseh. kwi-rok. dun.
4 | tsuh--neh. pi-si. é-nep.
5 | mar’-i-roh. ter-d-oap. té-nep.
6 | koh’-tseh. kri-vik. nats’-ksup.
7 | cher’-wer-tseh. hok-i-ra-vik-y. | lup’-ksup.
8 | kneh’-wit-tek. kwi-ro-ki-na-vik. | dun-ksup.
9 | krh’-mek. tro-pi-tit’-1-sha. ska-gis.
10 | wrh’-kler-wer. ter-ai-hi. * ta-o-nep.
As among the Karok, the functions of the chief are principally advisory
Like the pretor of ancient Rome, he can proclaim do, dico, but he can
scarcely add addico. He can state the law or the custom and the facts, and
he can give his opinion, but he can hardly pronounce judgment. The
office is not hereditary ; the head man or captain is generally one of the
oldest, and always one of the astutest, men of the village. They also rec-
ognize the authority of a head-chief.
Their houses—and the following descriptions will serve also for the
Karok.
are sometimes constructed on the level earth, but generally they
excavate a round cellar, four or five feet deep and twelve or fifteen feet in
diameter. Over this they build a square cabin of split poles or puncheons,
planted erect in the ground, and covered with a flattish puncheon roof.
They eat and sleep in the cellar, (it is only a pit, and it is not covered
except by the roof), squatting in a circle around the fire, and store their
supplies on the bank above next to the walls of the cabin. For a door they
take a puncheon about four feet wide, set it up at one corner of the cabin,
and with infinite scraping of flints and elk-horns bore a round hole through
46 THE YUROK.
it, barely large enough to admit the passage of an Indian on all-fours.
The cabin being built entirely of wood and not thatched, accounts partly
for the wholesome-looking eyes of the Klamath tribes, compared with the
odious purblind optics often seen in the thatched and unyentilated wig-
wams farther south. A space in front of the cabin is kept clean-swept,
and is frequently paved with cobbles, with a larger one placed each side of
the door-holes; and on this pavement the squaws sit, weaving baskets, and
spinning no end of tattle.
Though they have not the American’s all-day industry, both these Kla-
math tribes are job-thrifty, and contrive to have a considerable amount of
money by them. [or instance, the trading-post at Klamath Bluffs alone sold
in 1871, over $3,000 worth of merchandise, though there were only about six
miners among their customers. Here is a significant item: The proprietor
said he sold over 700 pounds of soap annually to the Yurok alone. I often
peeped into their cabins, and seldom failed to see there wheaten bread, coffee,
matches, bacon, and a very considerable wardrobe hanging in the smoky
attic. They are more generally dressed in complete civilized suits, and
more generally ride on horseback, than any others, except the Mission
Indians.
How do they get the money to procure these things? They mine a
little, drive pack-trains a good deal, transport goods and passengers on the
river, make and sell canoes, whipsaw lumber for the miners, fetch and carry
about the mining camps, go over to Scott Valley and hire themselves out
on the farms in the summer, ete. These Indians are enterprising; they push
out from their native valley. You will find them in Crescent City, Trin-
idad, and Areata, working in the saw-mills, on the Hupa reservation,
etc. When we remember that they have learned all these things by imi-
tation, having never been on a reservation, it is no little to their credit.
The hills skirting the Klamath are very steep and mountain-high, the
north side being open and fern-grown, and most of the villages are on this
north side to get the sunshine in winter, planted thick along the bends
wherever they can find a little level space. These smoke-blackened ham-
lets reminded me continually of the villages in Canton Valais, only the
Indian cabin has but one story. It is very much like a chalet, and they
BASKETS AND CANOES. 47
are every whit as clean, comfortable, and substantial as the Sennhiitten,
wherein is made the world-famous Emmenthaler cheese, for I have been
inside of both. And yet, when I saw the swarthy Yurok creeping on all-
fours out of their round door-holes, or sticking their shock-pates up through
the hatchway of the assembly chamber, just on a level with the earth, I
thought of black bears as often as anything.
From willow twigs and pine roots they weave large round mats, for
holding acorn flour; various sized, flattish, squash-shaped baskets, water-
tight; deep, conical ones, of about a bushel capacity, to be carried on their
backs; and others, to be used at pleasure as drinking-cups or skull-caps
(for the squaws only, the men wear nothing on their heads), in which
latter capacity they fit very neatly. They ornament their baskets with
some ingenuity by weaving in black rootlets or bark in squares, diamonds,
or zigzag lines, but they never attempt the curve (which seems to mark the
transition from barbaric to civilized art), or the imitation of any object in
nature.
In earrying her baby, or a quantity of acorns, the squaw fills the deep,
conical basket, and suspends it-on her back by a strap which passes loosely
around it and athwart her forehead. She leans far forward and so relieves
her neck; but I have seen the braves carry heavy burdens for miles, walk-
ing quite erect, though they showed they were not accustomed to the
drudgery, by clasping their hands behind their heads to ease their necks of
the terrible strain.
As the redwood grows only along the Lower Klamath, the Yurok have
a monopoly of making canoes, and they sell many to the Karok.- A canoe
on the Klamath is not pointed like the Chippewa canoe, but the width at
either end is equal to the tree’s diameter. On the great bar across the mouth
of the river, and all along the coast for eighty miles there are tens of thou-
sands of mighty redwoods cast up on the strand, having been either floated
down by the rivers or grubbed down by the surf. Hence the Indians are
not obliged to fell any trees, and have only to burn them into suitable
lengths. In making the canoe they spread pitch on whatever place they
wish to reduce, and when it has burned deep enough they clap on a piece of
raw bark and extinguish the fire. By this means they round them out. with
48 THE YUOROK.
wonderful symmetry and elegance, leaving the sides and ends very thin and
as smooth as if they had been sandpapered. At the stern they burn and
polish out a neat little bracket which serves as a seat for the boatman.
They spend an infinity of puddering on these canoes (nowadays they use iron
tools and dispatch the work in a few days), two Indians sometimes work-
ing on one five or six months, burning, scraping, polishing with stones.
When completed, they are sold for various sums, ranging from $10 to $30,
or even more. They are not as handsome as the Smith River or the
‘l’sin-ik canoes, but quite as serviceable. A large one will carry five tons
of merchandise, and in early days they used to take many cargoes of fish
from the Klamath, shooting the dangerous rapids and surf at the mouth
with consummate skill, going boldly to sea in heavy weather, and reaching
Crescent City, twenty-two miles distant, whence they returned with mer-
chandise.
When they are not using these canoes, they turn them bottom side up
on the sandy beach and bream them, or haul them into damp and shady
coves, or cover them thickly with leaves and brushwood, to prevent the
thin ends from sun-cracking. When they do become thus cracked, they
bore holes through with a buck’s horn, and bind the ends together with
withes, twisting the same tight with sticks—a kind of rude tourniquet—
which closes up the cracks better than calking would.
To make a quiver, the Yurok takes the skin of a raccoon or a marten,
turns it wrong-side out, sews it up, and suspends it behind him by a string
passed over one shoulder and under the other, while the striped tail flutters
gayly in the air at his shoulder. In the animal’s head he stuffs a quantity
of moss, as a cushion for the arrow-heads to rest in, to prevent breakage.
In catching salmon they employ principally nets woven of fine roots.
or grass, which are stretched across eddies in the Klamath, always with the
mouth down-stream. When there is not a natural eddy they sometimes
create one by throwing out a rude wing-dam. ‘They select eddies because
it is there the salmon congregate to rest themselves. At the head of the
eddy they erect fishing-booths over the water, by planting slender poles in
the bottom of the river, and lashing others over them in a light and artistic
framework, with a floor a few feet above the water, and regular rafters over-
SALMON-FISHING—BREAD-MAKING. 49
head, on which brushwood is spread for a screen against the sun. In
one of these really picturesque booths an Indian sleeps at night, with a
string leading up from the net to his fingers, so that when a salmon begins
to flounce in it he is awakened. Sometimes the string is attached to an
ingenious rattle-trap of sticks or bones (or a bell nowadays), which will
ring or clatter, and answer the same purpose.
They also spear salmon from these booths with a fish-gig furnished with
movable barbs, which after entering the fish spread open, and prevent the
withdrawal of the instrument. Another mode they sometimes employ is to
stand on a large bowlder in the main current where the salmon and the
little skeggers shoot in to rest in the eddy when ascending the stream, where-
upon they scoop them up in dip-nets. Again they construct a weir of wil-
low stakes nearly across the stream at the shallows, leaving only a narrow
chute wherein is set a funnel-shaped trap of splints, with a funnel-shaped
entrance at the large end. Ascending the stream the bold, resolute salmon
shoots into this, and cannot get out. Sometimes the weir reaches clear
across, the stakes being fastened to a long string-piece stretching from bank
to bank. The building of one of these dams is usually preceded by a grand
dance, and followed by a feast of salmon. The greater portion of the catch
is dried and smoked for winter consumption.
There are two runs of salmon, one in the spring and one in the fall, of
which the former is the better, the fish being then smaller and sweeter. The
whites along the river sometimes compel the Indians to leave their weirs
open a certain number of days in the week, that they may participate in
the catch. Quarrels used to arise between two villages, caused by the lower
one making a weir so tight as to obstruct the run, and these occasionally
led to bloodshed.
Bread or mush is made from the acorns of the chestnut-oak (Quercus
densiflora), which are first slightly scorched and then pounded up in stone
mortars. The invariable sound that first salutes the ear as one approaches
a village is the monotonous thump, thump of the pestles wielded by the
patient women. The meal thus prepared is wet up with water, and the mix-
ture poured into little sand-pools scooped in the river beach, around which
a fire is made until the stuff is cooked, when the outside sand is brushed
ALG
50 THE YUROK.
off, and the bread is ready to be eaten. ‘They find on the coast a glutinous
kind of algze, which they press into loaves when wet, then dry them in the
sun, and eat them raw. ‘They also eat the nuts of the laurel (Oreodaphne
californica). :
On lagoons and shallow reaches of the river they have a way of trap-
ping wild ducks which is ingenious. They sprinkle huckleberries or salal-
berries on the bottom, then stretch a coarse net a few inches under the sur-
face of the water. Seeing the tempting decoy, the ducks dive for it, thrust
their heads through the meshes of the net, and the feathers prevent their
return. Thus they are drowned, and remain quiet with their tails elevated,
so that others are not frightened, and an abundant catch sometimes rewards
the trapper.
Along the coast they engage largely in smelt fishing. The fisherman
takes two long slender poles which he frames together with a cross-piece
in the shape of the letter A, and across this he stretches a net with small
meshes, bagging down considerably. This net he connects by a throat,
with a long bag-net floating in the water behind him, and then, provided
with a strong staff, he wades out up to his middle. When an unusually
heavy billow surges in he plants his staff firmly on the bottom, ducks his
head forward, and allows it to boom over him. After each wave he dips
with his net and hoists it up, whereupon the smelt slide down to the point
and through the throat into the bag-net. When the latter contains a bushel
or so he wades ashore and empties it into his squaw’s basket.
About sunset appears to be the most favorable time for smelt fishing,
and at this time the great bar across the mouth of the Klamath presents a
lively and interesting spectacle. Sometimes many scores of swarthy heads
may be seen bobbing amid the surf like so many sea-lions. The squaws
hurry to and fro across the bar, bowing themselves under their great conical
hampers, carrying the smelt back to the canoes in the river, while the pap-
pooses caper around stark naked, whoop, throw up their heels, and play-
fully insinuate pebbles into each other’s ears. After the great copper globe
of the sun burns into the ocean, bivouac fires spring up along the sand
among the enormous redwood drift-logs, and families hover around them to
roast the evening repast. The squaws bustle about the fires while the
SMELT-FISHING—GOING OUT TO SEA. 51
weary smelt-fishermen, in their nude and savage strength, are grouped
together squatting or leaning about, with their smooth, dark, clean-moulded
limbs in statuesque attitudes of repose. Dozens of canoes laden with
bushels on bushels of the little silver fishes, shove off and move silently
away up the darkling river. The village of Rikwa perched on the shoulder
of the great bluff, amid the lush cool ferns, swashing in the soft sea-breeze,
tinkles with the happy cackle of brown babies tumbling on their heads
with the puppies; and the fires within the cabins gleam through the round
door-holes like so many full-orbed moons heaving out of the breast of the
mountain.
Smelt being small the squaws dry them whole by laying them awhile
on low wooden kilns, with interstices to allow the smoke to rise up freely,
and then finishing the process in the sun. They eat them uncooked, with
sauce of raw salal-berries (Gualtheria shallon), which are very good in Sep-
tember and October. Let an Indian be journeying anywhither, and you
will always find in his basket some bars of this silver bullion, or flakes of
rich orange colored salmon.
When the ocean is tranquil they paddle out in their canoes a mile or
more and clamber out on the isolated farralones to gather shell-fish and
algze for food. It is quite a perilous feat to approach one of these steep,
rugged bowlders in the open sea, and leap upon it amid the swish and thud-
ding of the waves.
CHAPTER. V.
THE YUROK, CONTINUED.
Weapons of war and the chase are usually made by some old man
skilled in knapping stone and in fashioning bows and arrows. Bows are
made from the yew (Taxus brevifolia), a tough evergreen; the outside is
coated with sinew drawn tight, and the string is made of the same material
Arrows are made of cedar, and are sometimes furnished with a spiral whorl
of feather to give them a rifle motion, and being tipped with flint (or with
metal nowadays) they are very powerful and can be driven clear through
aman’s body. Another weapon made by them is a sword sor knife about
three feet long, of iron or steel procured from the whites. Of course this
is not aboriginal, but is rather a substitute for the large jasper or obsidian
knives which they used to make and use, but which nowadays are kept
only as ornaments or objects of wealth, to be produced on occasion of a
ereat dance. These may perhaps be called pre-historic, as they seem to
have fallen into disuse as weapons before the arrival of the Americans.
They occur in numbers in the mounds of Southwestern Oregon. Even
common arrow-heads are now manufactured only by old Indians who cling
to the traditions of their forefathers. Mr. Chase mentions some very large
jasper spear-heads four inches long and two inches wide; but these also
are now brought forth only at a dance, to give the owner distinction. Flint
or jasper flakes are used to cut and clean salmon, especially the first of the
season, as they say that iron or steel is poisonous used for this purpose.
In the accompanying sketch are figured two implements which may have
been only net-sinkers, but are said by an old pioneer to have been used
formerly as bolas are in South America, being tied together with rawhide
and hurled at the feet of an enemy to entangle him and throw him down.
‘To me it seems more probable that they were used rather like a sling-shot.
52
SALMON BILLY.
The Yurok are not as good hunters as the
Karok and are inclined to be timid in the deep
forest, but they are bold and skillful water-
men. They pretend that when they go into
the mountains, devils, shaped like bears, shoot
arrows at them, which travel straight until
they are about to impinge on them when they
suddenly swerve aside.
On the other hand, I could not but admire
the dash and coolness of Salmon Billy, whom
a bold soldier-boy and myself employed to
take us down the river in his canoe. When
we were bowling down the rapids where the
water curled its green lips as if it would swal-
low us bodily, and the huge waves now headed
her, now pooped her, and now took her amid-
ships, until she was nearly a third full of water,
Billy stood up in the stern and his eyes glis-
tened with savage joy while he bowsed away
hearty, first on this side, then on that, until
we shot down like an Oxford shell on the
Thames. He got a little nervous at times,
which we could always tell by his commenc-
ing to whistle under his breath; and in the
roughest rapids he would get to whistling very
fast, but his stroke was never steadier than
then. In a pinch like this he would bawl out
to us to trim the canoe, or to sit still, with an
imperiousness that amused me.
I will also relate a little incident, show-
ing the exceeding cunning of this same Salmon
Billy. One day I was toiling down the trail
along the Klamath in an execrable drizzle
of rain, which, together with the labyrinth
4
D3
Fic. 1.—Weapons of war.
sketch by A. W. Chase.
54 THE YUROK.
of eattle-trails obscured the path and led me on many a wild-goose chase.
At every village the Indians would swarm out and offer me their canoes
at an extortionate price; but it was only three or four miles to the Klamath
Bluffs trading-post and I determined to push on. I soon discovered that
whenever I left a village an Indian would dash down the bank, leap into
his canoe, shoot swiftly down the river, and put the next one below on the
alert lest I should pass them without being perceived. So it continued for
some time, and each village—they were often less than a quarter of a mile
apart—lowered the price “a bit” or so, though still charging three times too
much. At last I came to fresh tracks in the trail which were evidently
made by American boots and I followed them joyfully ; but they soon led
me into a thick jungle dripping with rain where I speedily lost the way
and got saturated from head to foot. In a perfect desperation, I floundered
out somehow and got down on the river-bank determined to take the first
passing canoe at whatever cost. In a few minutes, who of all men in the
world should come paddling quietly around the bend but Salmon Billy!
It is necessary here to go back and mention that Billy had taken note
of me in his village, and instead of going down to warn his neighbors, he
had studied his own advantage, shot down ahead, bowled his canoe ashore,
made the tracks on purpose to decoy me into the jungle, then regained his
canoe by a roundabout way and dashed out of my sight. From his covert
he saw me come down on the bank quite beat out and in a wofully
bedraggled condition; so presently he hove in sight paddling leisurely
around the bend, with the most unconscious and casual air in the world.
In a moment a suspicion of foul play flashed upon me. I was vexed
enough to have thrashed his head off, but there I was. So I gave a shout
at him but he looked the other way. I whooped at him again with a cer-
tain elevation of voice. He narrowly scrutinized a woodpecker flying
overhead, then riveted his gaze intently upon a frog singing on a bowlder
ashore. He couldn’t hear me, the raseal! until I bawled at him three
times. I paid him his price without a word and got in. The next day he
took me down to the mouth of the river, and when I spoke to him about
the tracks Billy’s face remained as placid as a cucumber, but he suddenly
forgot all his stock of English and could understand never a word more !
THEIR CURIOSITY—BATHING. 5D
The Yurok are a very lively, curious, and inquisitive race. One who
travels afoot, dressed in the plain garb necessary amid the scraggy thickets
of California, will find them making themselves very familiar with him—
sometimes to his amusement, often to his great disgust. They had the
greatest curiosity respecting myself and my business. They scrutinized
every article of my apparel, and men who understood them said they always
discussed in detail, and with great minuteness, every stranger’s coat, hat,
boots, trousers, etc., and tried thus to conjecture his occupation. They
wanted to purchase my clothes, they wanted to swap handkerchiefs, they
wanted to peep into my traveling-bag. Waxing presently more familiar,
they would feel the quality of my cloth, stroke it down, ask what it cost
a yard, clasp my arm to test my muscle, and then encourage me with the
sententious and comprehensive remark, ‘“‘ Bully for you!” They turned up
my boots to inspect the nails and soles of the same; they wanted to try on
my coat, and, last and worst of all, the meddlesome rascals wanted to try
on my trousers!
Sometimes, when wandering on the great, ferny, wind-swept hills of
the coast, keeping a sharp weather-eye out for the trail, I have seen a half-
dozen tatterdemalion Yurok, engaged in picking saldl-berries, when they
saw me, quit their employment with their fingers and. lips stained gory-red
by the juice, and come rushing down through the bushes with their two
club-queues bouncing on their shoulders and laughing with a wild lunatic
laugh that made my hair stand on end. But they were never on “butcher
deeds” intent, and never made any foray on me more terrible than the insinu-
ating question, ‘Got any tobac.?”
Filthy as they are they do not neglect the cold morning bath until
they have learned to wear complete civilized suits. On the coast I have
seen the smooth-skinned, pudgy, shock-pated fellows, on one of those leaden
foggy mornings of that region, crawl on all-fours out of their wretched
huts which were cobbled up of driftwood, take off the narrow breech-
cloths which were their only coverings, and dip up the chilly brine over
them with their double-hands letting it trickle all down their swarthy bodies
in a manner that made me shiver to see. The sexes bathe apart, and the
women do not go into the sea without some garment on.
D6 THE YUROK.
The Yurok, like their neighbors, are quite acquisitive. Besides the
money mentioned among the Karok, they value obsidian knives and orna-
ments and white deer-skins, the two latter having a superstitious as well as
an intrinsic worth. A good white deer-skin, with head and legs intact is
worth from $50 to $200 in.gold. An Indian possessing even one is accounted
rich; at a great dance that was held, a barbaric Astor had four.
They are monogamists, and as among the Karok, marriage is illegal
without the prepayment of money. When a young Indian becomes enam-
ored of a maid, and cannot wait to collect the amount of shell-money
demanded by her father, he is sometimes allowed to pay half the sum and
become what is termed “ half-married”. Instead of bringing her to his cabin
and making her his slave, he goes to live in her cabin and becomes her slave.
This only occurs in the case of soft, uxorious fellows.
Divorce is very easily accomplished at the will of the husband, the
only indispensable formality being that he must receive back from his father-
in-law the money which he paid for his spouse. For this reason, since the
advent of the Americans, the honorable state of matrimony has fallen sadly
into disuse among the young braves, because they seldom have shell-money
nowadays, and the old Indians prefer that in exchange for their daughters.
Besides that, if one paid American money for his wife his father-in-law
would squander it (the old generation dislike the white man’s, the wd-geh
money, but hoard up shell-money like true misers), and thus, in case of
divorce he could not recover his gold and silver.
The Yurok are rather a more lively race than the Karok, and observe
more social dances. The birth of a child is celebrated with a dance. ‘There
is adance called v-me-laik (salmon dance), which bears a general resemblance
to the Propitiation Dance of the Karok. It is held in-doors in early spring,
when the first salmon of the season appears. We can well understand with
what great joy the villagers engage in this, when after a long and dreary
winter of rain during which the wolf has been hardly kept from the door,
and the house-father has &
to)
one down many a time to peer into the Klamath,
if perchance he might see the black-backed finny rovers of the great deep
shooting up the river, but in vain, and has then sadly turned on his heel
and gone back to his diet of pine-bark and buds—when, at last, as the ferns
Figure 2. —Yu’-rok Woman.
Vigure 3.—Yu’ rok Woman,
Figure 4.—Wooden figure of Victory.
WITCHCRAFT— WOODEN FIGURES. a7
are greening on the mountain-side and the birds of spring are singing, the
joyful cry resounds through the village, Ne-peg'-wuh! ne-peg'-wuh! (the
salmon! the salmon!) As among the Karok, this dance is generally fol-
lowed by a licentious debauch. In the fall is celebrated the White Deer
Dance (u-pi-wat-u-gunkhl), which is held out-doors.
Like the Karok they believe old squaws can by witchcraft prevent the
salmon from ascending the river, and in former times they not unfrequently
slew with butcherly murder the unfortunate hag so suspected. They do not
wish the salmon to be interfered with or be misled in their courses. They
even have a pole erected at the mouth of the Klamath to show them the
way in—a tall pole on the sand-bar, ornamented with a smallish and rather
pretty cross, with two streamers fluttering from it.
The only attempt at carving in imitation of the human figure that I
have seen in California was among the Yurok, and was probably connected
in some way with the salmon-fishery. It was a figure something like one
of the ancient Roman termini—a satyr’s bust, fashioned in profile from a
slab about three inches thick. It was extremely rude, the nose and chin
sharp-pointed and the head flattish, the arms rigidly straight and extending
down at a little distance from the body, and on the rump a curving, devil-
ish-looking tail about three feet long. It was arrayed in a United States
regulation-coat, with the arms loosely thrust into the sleeves, the body
stuffed with grass, and the tail sticking out between the flaps. Perched on
a short pole on a lofty fern-grown hill at the mouth of the Klamath, it
stood looking out over the ocean—a kind of shabby St. Anthony preaching
a silent sermon to the fish. The Indians would not or could not explain its
meaning, but I have little doubt that it was intended to assist or direct the
salmon in some manner in entering the Klamath River.
In addition to this figure, Mr. A. W. Chase saw and described two
others, one on each side of the Klamath at the mouth, one of which he
kindly sketched for this work. In a letter to the author he states that both
of them commemorate the killing of an enemy in battle. Klamath George
of the village of Rikwa, killed a Chillula, and to use his own words,
“When I come home, I take board, and cut his picture out, and stick him
up”. The one on the south bank, which is here figured, and is the more
«
58 THE YUROK.
artistic of the two, was made by an old Indian of the Quilshpak Ranch, to
celebrate his triumph over a 'Tolowa.
They trim up trees for assembly-chamber fuel in the same curious way
as the Karok, and I have seen hundreds of trees thus fashioned along the
Klamath, representing a man’s head and arms. The Yurok say they are
intended merely as guide-posts for the squaws, to direct them to the villages
when they have been out in the mountains berrying; but they have a
deeper significance than that.
They also have a curious custom of dropping twigs and boughs at the
junction of trails, which sometimes accumulate in heaps several feet high,
like the nests of wood-rats. very Indian who passes deposits a twig on
the pile, but without observing any method that a white man can discover.
No one will explain the custom, but they laugh the matter off when it is
broached; though it is probably observed, like so many other things, merely
“for luck”.
In saluting each other, the Yurok say ai-yu-kwoi’ (friendship), without
hand-shaking or any further ceremony. With slight variations, this expres-
sion prevails among several tribes of Northwestern California who speak
entirely different languages.
They bury the dead in a recumbent posture, and observe about the
same usages of mourning as the Karok. After a death they keep a fire
burning certain nights in the vicinity of the grave. They hold and believe,
at least the ‘Big Indians” do, that the spirits of the departed are compelled
to cross an extremely attenuated greased pole, which bridges over the chasm
of the ““Debatable Land”, and that they require the fire to light them on
their darksome journey.
4 - clan ig beta ees tan site
5 pote Dao! 2 ee A. - Oe ee my
: a 7 : . |
J Pe aye
A FINE CANOB—THE WAGEH. 69
his warm soft rays as that the tribes in the arid and sweltering valley of the
Sacramento should dream of bliss as being far toward the west, hard by the
coast, where they might lave and splash in the cool brine.
The Henaggi deserve special mention on account of the handsome
canoes which they fashion out of redwood. I saw one on Humboldt Bay,
which had been launched by them on Smith River, and which had there-
fore demonstrated its sea-worthiness by a voyage of over a hundred miles.
It was forty-two feet long and eight feet four inches wide, and capable of
carrying twenty-four men or five tons of freight. It was a “thing of beauty”,
sitting plumb and lightly on the sea, smoothly polished, and so symmetrical
that a pound’s weight on either side would throw it slightly out of trim.
Twenty-four tall, swarthy boatmen, naked except around the loins, stand-
ing erect in it, as their habit is, and with their narrow paddles measuring
off the blue waters with long, even sweeps, must have been a fine spectacle.
The Del Norte tribes have about the same implements and range of
food as the Yurok. In autumn they consume very large quantities of
huckleberries, salal-berries, salmon-berries, ete., which grow in abundance
on the coast.
In Dana’s American Journal of Science and Arts, July, 1873, A. W.
Chase gives the following account of the origin of the word ‘ Wogie” (pro-
nounced “Wageh” by the California tribes), as related to him by the
Chetkos, of Oregon:
“The Chetkos say that many seasons ago their ancestors came in
canoes from the far north, and landed at the river’s mouth. They found
two tribes in possession, one a warlike race, resembling themselves; these
they soon conquered and exterminated. The other was a diminutive people,
of an exceedingly mild disposition, and white. These called themselves, or
were called by the new-comers, ‘Wogies’. They were skillful in the manu-
facture of baskets, robes, and canoes, and had many methods of taking
game and fish unknown to the invaders. Refusing to fight, the Wogies
were made slaves of, and kept at work to provide food and shelter and
articles of use for the more warlike race, who waxed very fat and lazy.
One night, however, after a grand feast, the Wogies packed up and fled,
and were never more seen. When the first white men appeared, the
70 THE TOLOWA.
Chetkos supposed that they were the Wogies returned. They soon found
out their mistake however, but retained among themselves the appellation
for the white men, who are known as Wogies by all the coast tribes in the
vicinity.”
For the following legend I am indebted to C. J. Barclay. It was
related to him at Crescent City, in 1860, by a daughter of the oldest
woman then living of the Smith River tribe:
LEGEND OF THE FLOOD.
At one time there came a great rain: It lasted a long time and the
water kept rising till all the valleys were submerged, and the Indians (who
were very populous at that time) retired to the high land. As the water
rose, covering their retreat, they were swept away and drowned. ‘There
was one pair however who were more successful. "They reached the
highest peak in the country and were saved. They subsisted on fish—
cooking them by placing them under their arms. They had no fire and
could not get any, as everything was water-soaked to such an extent that
no fire could be produced. At length the water began to subside and con-
tinued to do so till it returned to its former level, and from that forlorn hope
are all the Indians of the present day descended, as also all the game,
insects, ete. As the Indians died, their spirits took the forms of deer, elk,
bear, insects, snakes, etc., as the fancy of the departed prompted. By those
means the earth became again peopled by the same kind as formerly
existed; but the Indians still had no fire, and they looked with envious
‘eyes on the moon as having fire while they had none. The Spider Indians
formed a plan, having secured the co-operation of the Snake Indians, to
obtain fire from the moon. In pursuance of their idea the Spiders wove a
gossamer balloon, and started on their perilous journey, leaving a rope
fastened to the earth paying out as they went. In course of time they
reached their destination, but the Moon Indians looked on them with suspi-
cion, divining their errand. The Spiders however succeeded in convincing
them that their only object was to gamble. At that the Moon Indians were
o
t=)
4 O
ZS
much pleased, proposing to start the game forthwith. While thus engaged
sitting by the fire a Snake Indian arrived, haying climbed the rope, and
LEGEND OF THE FLOOD. Tall
darted through the fire, making good his escape before the Moon Indians
had recovered from their surprise. On his arrival on earth it became
incumbent on him to travel over every rock, stick, and tree; everything he
touched from that time forth contained fire, and the hearts of the Indians
were glad. The Spiders were not so fortunate; they were kept as pris-
oners for a long time, but finaily released. They thought the appearance
of the world much improved as it again glowed brightly as before the flood,
and gave them light. The Spiders returned to the earth expecting to be
received as benefactors of their race ; but they were doomed to disappoint-
ment, for on their arrival they were immediately put to death, for fear the
Moon Indians might want revenge (probably as a peace-offering). As the
fire has remained constant ever since, the Snake Indians congratulate them-
selves on their success.
CHAPTER: VIL:
THE UU-PA.
Hoopa Valley, on the Lower Trinity, is the home of this tribe. Next
after the Karok they are the finest race in all that region, and they even
excel them in their statecraft, and in the singular influence, or perhaps
brute force, which they exercise over the vicinal tribes. They are the
Romans of Northern California im their valor and their wide-reaching
dominions; they are the French in the extended diffusion of their language.
They hold in a state of semi-vassalage (I speak always of aboriginal
acts) most of the tribes around them, except their two powerful neighbors
on the Klamath, exacting from them annual tribute in the shape of peltry
and shell-money, and they compel all their tributaries to this day, to the
number of about a half-dozen, to speak Hupaé in communication with them.
Although they originally occupied only about twenty miles of the Lower
Trinity, their authority was eventually acknowledged about sixty miles
along that stream, on South Fork, on New River, on Redwood Creek, on a
good portion of Mad River and Van Dusen’s Fork; and there is good reason
to believe that their name was scarcely less dreaded on Lower Kel River,
if they did not actually saddle the tribes of that valley with their idiom.
Although most of their petty tributaries had their own tongues origin-
ally, so vigorously were they put to school in the language of their masters
that most of their vocabularies were sapped and reduced to bald categories
of names. They had the dry bones of substantives, but the flesh and blood
of verbs were sucked out of them by the Hupaé. A Mr. White, a pioneer
well acquainted with the Chi-mal’-a-kwe, who once had an entirely distinet
tongue, told me that before they became extinct they scarcely employed a
verb which was not Hupa. In the Hupa reservation, in the summer of
1871, the Hupa constituted not much more than a half of the occupants,
72
THEIR LANGUAGE—CLANS. ves)
yet the Hupa was not only the French of the reservation, the idiom of
diplomacy and of intercourse between tribes, but it was also in general use
within each rancheria. I tried in vain to get the numerals of certain obscure
remnants of tribes; they persisted in giving me the Hup4, and in fact they
seemed to know no other.
They remind one somewhat of the Mussulmans, who are forbidden by
the Koran to learn any foreign tongue except Arabic. As the Sultans for
four centuries had no interpreters save the versatile Greeks of the Phanari-
otic quarter of Constantinople, so among the tribes surrounding the Hupa I
found many Indians speaking three, four, five, or more languages, always
including Hupa, and generally English. Yet I do not think this was due
to any particular intellectual superiority or brilliance on the part of the
Hupa, so much as to their physical force.
Notwithstanding the Hupa were so powerful in their foreign relations,
they were divided into many clans or towns, and these were often arrayed
in deadly hostility. These clans were named as follows: Hos’-ler, Mi-til’-ti,
Tish-tan’-a-tan, Wang’-kat, Chail’-kut-kai-tuh, Mis’-kut, Chan-ta-kdé-da, Hiin-
sa-tung, Wis’-so-man-chuh, Mis-ke-toi-i-tok, Hass-lin’-tung. The Hupa
owned the Trinity from its mouth up to Burnt Ranch, which is a little above
the mouth of New River; but that part of it between the mouth of South
Fork and Burnt Ranch they occupied only in summer. It is a region rich
in acorns and manzanita-berries, and they allowed the Chim-a-ri-ko to
gather these products from it after they had helped themselves. Here too
on this quasi-neutral ground, they met the latter tribe in summer for barter,
and for the annual collection of tribute.
They were not involved in so many wars with the Americans as were
some of the brave but foolhardy tribes farther up the river. One reason
was that the Americans did not prosecute mining on the Lower Trinity to
the same extent that they did on New River and the Middle and Upper
Trinity ; hence the salmon-fishing of the Hupa was not so much interrupted
by muddy water—a fruitful source of trouble in early days—nor did they
themselves come so much in contact with the miners as did those tribes far-
ther up the river.
Their primitive dress, implements, and houses were almost precisely
74 THE HUPA.
like those of the Klamath River Indians. Another style of lodge, very sel-
dom seen, was as follows: A circular cellar three or fow feet deep and
twelve feet wide was dug, and the side walled up with stone. Around this
cellar at a distance of a few feet from the edge of it was erected a stone
wall on the surface of the earth. On this wall they leaned up poles, pun-
cheons, and broad sheets of redwood bark, covering the cellar with a coni-
‘al shaped inclosure. Sometimes this stone wall instead of being on the
inside of the wigwam supporting the poles, was on the outside, around the
ends of the poles, and serving to steady them. Shiftless Indians neglected
to wall up the cellar with either stone or wood, leaving only a bank of earth.
In the center of the cellar is a five-sided fire-pit walled with stone, as in the
common square cabin. This cellar is both dining-room and dormitory; a
man lying with his head to the wall has his feet in comfortable position for
toasting before the fire. Under his head or neck is a wooden pillow, a little
rounded out on top, something like that described by travellers among the
Japanese.
Politically the Hupa are fatally democratic, like all their neighbors.
There is no head chief even for war. When several villages are met
together for a dance there is one in authority over all, who may be called
the master of ceremonies. With the California Indians the management of
a dance is of more importance than the management of a war.
It is difficult to understand how a war can be conducted without a
central chief in command until we remember that their wars were only
raids which might be all over in a day, and certainly did not extend
beyond aweek. Consequently every man fought in such manner as seemed
good in his own eyes, taking care only to keep with the main body of the
warriors. No scalps were taken; the heads of the slain enemies were cut
off and left on the field. Spies were often employed to visit the enemy’s
camp to ferret out their plans and report the same. They were paid high
wages for this dangerous service, sometimes as much as ten strings of dél2-
kochik, equal to $100, which was contributed by the leading men.
They have well-established laws, or rather usages, as to riparian rights,
rights to hunting, fishing, and nutting grounds, laws of murder, injury, and
c
insulting words, ete. For instance, if two Hupa have a quarrel and it is
LS ————————
Figure 6.—Hu’-pé Woman.
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» ooo : Qa %y © ¢yi ry . . - - mers
7 : at Peale « : ‘ = i 1 ..
: es ay svehalee
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QUARRELS—LAWS—BASTARDS. 75
not settled on the spot, they refuse to speak to each other; but if after
awhile one desires to open friendly relations, he offers to pay the other
man a certain amount of shell-money. If this offer is accepted they ex-
change moneys, not necessarily in equal amounts, and perfect friendship is
‘restored. These feuds are sometimes of larger dimensions, including whole
villages. When I was on the reservation I tried in vain to hire a member
of the Hosler village to accompany me to the Tishtanatan village; the
two villages were at enmity.
Murder is generally compounded for by the payment of shell-money.
Judge Rosborough states that payment is not demanded until the first full
moon after the murder. Then the demand is presented by a third party.
If the money is paid at once the affair is amicably settled and is never
alluded to again.
There is a singular punishment for adultery when committed by a
Benedick. One of his eyes is pricked so that the ball gradually wastes
away by extravasation. ‘The Hupa appear to be ashamed of this nowadays,
and I never found but one of them who would admit it. All the rest
explained the large number of one-eyed men in the tribe by saying that
they lost their eyes when children by carelessness in shooting arrows at each
other by way of youthful practice. On the testimony of this one Indian
and of two or three white men who have lived among them, I have ven-
tured to state the above custom as a fact.
The wife is never punished for adultery except by the husband. The
woman seems to be regarded as not responsible for her misdeeds, as the
southern slaves used to be.
They have the same shell aristocracy as the Karok, the amount paid
for the wife determining her rank in society.
Notwithstanding their gross immorality, the lot of a bastard is a hard
one. He is called kin’-ai-kil, which the Indians translate ‘‘slave”, but which
might perhaps better be rendered “ward”. The unhappy mother of a bastard
has not even the consolation left to Hester Prynne, whose child remained
her own. As soon as it is old enough it is taken from her, and becomes
the property of some one of her male relatives. Though not condemned
to absolute slavery, the kinaikil has no privileges with the family. All his
76 THE HUPA.
earnings go to his patrons. He cannot marry any one other than a kinaikil.
He is subject to abuse and contumely. The only privilege he is entitled to
is that he may have his earnings or winnings at play, if he chooses, placed
to his credit, and when they amount to $15 or $20 he may go free. Some-
times he has to accumulate $50 before he can go free. He also has the
option of remaining a kinaikil for life. He may marry a woman of the
same condition, and their children will be kinaikil after them.
Hupa allikochik is vated a little differently from the Karok. The stand-
ard of measurement is a string of five shells. Nearly every man has ten
lines tattooed across the inside of his left arm about half way between the
wrist and the elbow; and in measuring shell-money he takes the string in
his right hand, draws one end over his left thumb-nail, and if the other end
reaches to the uppermost of the tattoo-lines, the five shells are worth $25
in gold or $5 a shell. Of course it is only one in ten thousand that is long
enough to reach this high value. The longest ones usually seen are worth
about $2; that is, $10 to the string. Single shells are also measured on the
creases on the inside of the left middle finger, a $5 shell being one which
will reach between the two extreme creases. No shell is treated as money
at all unless it is long enough to rate at 25 cents. Below that it degenerates
into ‘““squaw-money”, and goes to form part of a woman’s necklace. Real
money is ornamented with little scratches or carvings, and with very narrow
strips of thin, fine snake-skin wrapped spirally around the shells; and some-
times a tiny tuft of scarlet woodpecker’s down is pasted on the base of the
shell.
The Hupa language is worthy of the people who speak it—sonorous
and strong in utterance, of a martial terseness and simplicity of construc-
tion. Of the copiousness of its vocabulary a single example will suffice,
viz, the words denoting some of the stages of human life—mich-é-i-teh,
kil-c-akh-hutch (kil'-la-hutch), an-chil'-chwil (kon-chwil -chwil), ho-es-teh, hwa-
at'-ho-len, ki-iing-whe-uh (ki-whin), which denote, respectively, “baby”, “boy-
baby”, “youth or young man”, “man”, ‘married man” (wife-man), ‘old
man”. It has the Turanian feature of agglutination; that is, among other
things, the pronoun is glued directly to the noun to form a declension. The
possessive case is formed by placing the two words in close juxtaposition,
Figure 7.—Hu’-pa mush-paddle, pillow, and money-purses, spoons and wedge of elkhorn.
ere “Re are
Lie 4 ney “ee ht
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LANGUAGE—MEASURE OF TIME. OU
the governing word being postpositive. The verb often presents different
root-forms in the different tenses.
As the Hupa may be called the Romans of California, so is their lan-
guage the Latin of Indian tongues—the idiom of camps—rude, strong, and
laconic. Let a grave and decorous Indian declaim it in a set oration, and
every word comes out like the thud of a battering-ram. Take the words
for “devil” and “death”—words of terrible import—thi-toan’-chwa and chi-
chwit, and note the robust strength with which they can be uttered. What
a grand roll of drums in that long word kon-chwil'-chwil!
Doubtless the reader has observed that the life-periods above men-
tioned are not very accurately defined. They take no account of the lapse
of time, and consider it a ridiculous superfluity to keep the reckoning of
their ages. “Snows”, ‘“‘moons”, and “sleeps” answer to years, months, and
days. ‘They guess at their ages by consulting their teeth, like a jockey at
Tattersall’s. A story is told of a superannuated squaw who had buried
two or three husbands—ommnes composuit—and yet was garrulously talking
of remarrying. Some of her friends laughed at her immoderately for enter-
taining such a silly conceit, whereupon the old crone replied stoutly, show-
ing her ivories, and tapping them with her finger, ‘See, I have good teeth
yet!” A grim suggestion, truly, when taken in connection with possible
connubial infelicities in the future!
CHAPTER VIII.
THE HUPA, CONTINUED.
Among the dances which they observe is the dance of friendship
(hé-na-weh), which is an act of welcome and hospitality extended to tribes
with whom they are on cartel. They, the Karok, the Yurok, and some
others, recognize each other as equals, and send deputations to each other’s
dances. Before this is to be held, two women go up on the mountain to
the cairn on the summit which marks the boundary between them and their
neighbors, split some fine fagots and make a fire by the cairn, which they
keep up all day. At night deputations from the visiting tribes come up,
and are met here by the Hupa, and all dance around the fire; then with
torches and singing they march together down into the valley.
The doctor dance (chilkh'-tal) is celebrated upon the initiation of a
shaman or medicine-man into the mysteries of his art.
Then there is the dance for luck, or the white-deer dance, in autumn,
wherein only men participate. It is wonderful what a charm a white or
black deer-skin possesses for these Indians, and it seems to be considered
just as efficacious and of as happy auspice if bought from a white man as
if killed by the Indian himself. They regard the owner of one as especially
favored of the spirits, just as some superstitious people believe him very
lucky who finds a four-leafed clover, or something of that sort. A chief
whom I saw on the reservation had three which had been handed down so
long as family heirlooms that he did not know when they were acquired.
The possession of them had exalted him to such a pitch that no person
crossing the river with him in a canoe could possibly be drowned, and one
“all the same as God”!
or two more added to the store would make him
Whenever a white deer is killed it is skinned with the utmost care, every
part is preserved, hoofs, ears, ete.; the head and neck are stuffed, and a
narrow strip of red woodpecker’s down is sewed on the tips of its long pen-
78
WHITE DEER—SPLENDID HEAD-DRESS. 79
dulous ears, in a circle around its eyes, and on the lower end of a piece which
hangs down four or five inches from the mouth, representing the tongue.
In the autumnal dance mentioned above, these are paraded with great
pride, rendering their possessors illustrious in the eyes of all men. No
Indian will part with a white deer-skin on any consideration. I offered
several of them $100 in gold coin for one, but they simply laughed at me.
There are other articles paraded and worn in this and other ceremonial dances
which they will on no account part with, at least to an American, though
they sometimes manufacture them to order for one another. One of these
is the flake or knife of obsidian or jasper. I have seen several which
were fifteen inches or more in length and about two and a half inches
wide in the widest part. Pieces as large as these are carried: aloft in the
hand in the dance, wrapped with skin or cloth to prevent the rough
edges from lacerating the hand, but the smaller ones are mounted on
wooden handles and glued fast. The large ones cannot be purchased at
any price, but I procured some about six inches long at $2.50 apiece.
These are not properly “knives”, but jewelry for sacred purposes, passing
current also as money. Another thing is a ferocious-looking head-band
made of the tail of a big gray wolf. Still another is the gorgeous head-
dress which is-worn in the dance described below. It consists of a
piece of almost snow-white buckskin, about three feet long and seven
or eight inches wide, blunt-pointed at the ends, richly and brilliantly cov-
ered with scarlet woodpecker’s down sewed on in broad bands and zig-
zag stripes, sometimes intermingled with green down from the same bird.
I had almost closed a bargain with an old Indian after much persuasion
to pay him $60 gold for an inferior one of these, but in consulting with his
family he encountered such determined opposition that he withdrew from his
agreement. They held it sacrilegious to sell it.
The greatest Hupa festival is the dance of peace, the celebration of
which, like the closing of the Temple of Janus, signifies that the tribe are
at peace with all their neighbors. I will give first the legend on which it
is founded, merely premising that it was related to me by a white man, and
that the Indians say it is authentic, only the name ‘‘ Gard” does not prop-
erly belong to the Hupaé mythology, being of Yurok origin.
80 [THE HUPA.
LEGEND OF GARD.
A great many snows ago, according to the traditions of the ancients,
there lived a young Hup& whose name was Gard. Wide as the eagles fly
was he known for his love of peace. He loved the paths of honesty and
clean was his heart. His words were not crooked or double. He went
everywhere teaching the people the excellent beauty of meekness. He
said to them: ‘Love peace, and eschew war and the shedding of blood.
Put away from you all wrath and unseemly jangling and bitterness of
speech. Dwell together in the singleness of love. Let all your hearts be
one heart. So shall ye prosper greatly, and the Great One Above shall
build you up like a rock on the mountains. The forests shall yield you
abundance of game and of rich nutty seeds and acorns. The red-fleshed
salmon shall never fail in the river. Ye shall rest in your wigwams in great
joy, and your children shall run in and out like the young rabbits of the
field for number”. And the fame of Gard went out through all that land.
Gray-headed men came many days’ journey to sit at his feet.
Now it chanced on a time that the young man Gard was absent from
his wigwam many days. His brother was grievously distressed on account
of him. At first he said to himself: ‘‘ He is teaching the people, and tar-
ries”. But when many days came and went, and still Gard was nowhere
seen his heart died within him. He assembled together a great company
of braves. He said to them: ‘Surely a wild beast has devoured him, for
no man would lay violent hands on one so gentle”. They sallied forth
into the forest, sorrowing, to search for Gard. Day after day they beat up
and down the mountains. They struggled through the tangled chaparral.
They shouted in the gloomy canons. Holding their hands to their ears
they listened with bated breath. No sound came back to them but the
lonely echo of their own voices, buffeted, faint, and broken among the
mountains. One by one they abandoned the search. They returned to
their homes in the valley. But still the brother wandered on, and as he
went through the forest he exclaimed aloud: “O, Gard! O, brother! if you
are indeed in the land of sprits, then speak to me at least one word with
the voice of the wind that I may know it for a certainty, and therewith be
content”.
LEGEND OF GARD. 8]
. As he wandered aimless, at last all his companions forsook him. He
roamed alone in the mountains, and his heart was dead.
Then it fell out, on a day, that Gard suddenly appeared to him. He
came, as it were, out of the naked hillside, or as if by dropping from the
sky, so sudden was the apparition. The brother of Gard stood dumb and
still before him. He gazed upon him as upon one risen from the dead,
and his heart was frozen. Gard said: ‘“ Listen! I have been in the land
of spirits. I have beheld the Great Man Above. I have come back to the
earth to bring a message to the Hupa, then I return up to the land of souls.
The Great Man has sent me to tell the Hupa that they must dwell in
concord with one another and the neighboring tribes. Put away from you
all thoughts of vengeance. Wash your hearts clean. Redden your arrows
no more in your brother’s blood. Then the Great Man will make you to
increase greatly in this land. Ye must not only hold back your arms from
warring and your hands from blood-guiltiness, but ye must wash your hearts
as with water. When ye hunger no more for blood, and thirst no more
for your enemy’s soul, when hatred and vengeance lurk no more in your
hearts, ye shall observe a great dance. Ye shall keep the dance of peace
which the Great Man has appointed. When ye observe it, ye shall know
by a sign if ye are clean in your hearts. There shall be a sign of smoke
ascending. Lut if in your hearts there is yet a corner full of hatred, that
ye have not washed away, there shall be no sign. If in your secret minds
ye still study vengeance, it is only a mockery that ye enact, and there shall
be no smoke ascending ”.
Having uttered these words, Gard was suddenly wrapped in a thick
cloud of smoke, and the cloud floated up into the land of spirits.
The reservation agent cherished this as a heathen parallel and
corroboration of the story of Christ; but it is a genuine aboriginal
legend. At any rate, they celebrate the dance of peace which this Gard
authorized. Jor nearly twenty years it remained in abeyance, because
during most of that period their temple of Janus had been open, as they
were engaged in many wars, either with the whites or with neighboring
tribes. . But in the spring of 1871 the old chiefs revived it lest the younger
GEnke
2 THE HUPA.
ones should forget the fashion thereof, there being then profound peace—
the peace of a reservation— solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant. This dance
is performed as follows: First they construct a semicircular wooden railing
or row of palisades, inside of which the performers take their stations.
These consist of two maidens, who seem to be priestesses, and about
twenty-five men, all of them arrayed in all their glory—the maidens in
fur chemises, with strings of glittering shells around their necks and sus-
pended in various ways from their shoulders; the men in tasseled deer-
skin robes, and broad coronets or headbands of the same material, spangled
with the scarlet scalps of woodpeckers, to the value of scores of dollars
on each headband. A fire is built on the ground in the center of the semi-
circle, and the men and maids then take their places, confronted by two,
three, sometimes four or five hundred spectators. A slow and solemn chant
is begun in that weird monotone peculiar to the Indians, in which all the
performers join. The exercise is not properly a dance, but rather resembles
the strange maneuvers of the howling dervishes of Turkey. They stretch
out their arms and brandish them in the air; they sway their bodies back-
ward and forward; they drop suddenly almost into a squatting posture,
then as quickly rise again; and at a certain turn of the ceremony all the
men drop every article of clothing and stand before the audience perfectly
nude. The maidens however conduct, themselves with modesty through-
out. All this time the chant croons on in a solemn monotony, alternating
with brief intervals of profound silence.
By all these multiplied and rapid genuflections, and this strange infec-
tious chanting, they gradually work themselves into a fanatic frenzy, almost
equaling, that of the dervishes, and a reeking perspiration, though they
generally keep their places. This continues a matter of two hours, and is
renewed day by day until they are assured of the favor of the Great One
Above by seeing Gard ascend from the ground in the form of a smoke.
On this occasion the dance was held on the reservation, but an old
man was stationed on the hill-side near the spot where Gard revealed him-
self to his brother, to watch for the rising of the smoke. Day after day,
week after week, he took up his vigil on the sacred lookout and watched,
while the weird, wild droning of the incantation came up to him from the
STORY OF NISH-FANG. 83
valley below; but still the smoke rose not until four weeks had elapsed.
Then one day he saw it curling up at last! Great was the joy of the
Hupa that they had found favor in the eyes of the Great Man; but the
dance was prolonged yet two weeks more, such is the patience of their
fanaticism and credulity.
This and the dance of propitiation of the Karok are genuine aborig-
inal customs; and it seems scarcely necessary to remark that they indicate,
on the part of the leading Indians at least, a consciousness of a Supreme
Being who holds them accountable for their actions, and whom they think
to appease by fasting and expiatory dances. No Indian would fast until
he is a living skeleton (as Americans testify that the Karok do) merely to
dupe the populace and wheedle them out of their money.
The Hupa bury their dead in a recumbent posture, and mourn for
them in the usual savage manner. They have the same superstitious ven-
eration for their memory as the Karok, and the same repugnance toward
allowing any one to view their graves. Most of the valuables are buried
in the grave with the deceased.
STORY OF NISH-FANG.
Once there was a Hup& maiden named Nish-Fang, who had left the
home of her forefathers and was sojourning with a white family on Mad
River. When that mysterious and momentous occurrence first took place
which announced her arrival to the estate of womanhood, she earnestly
yearned to return to her native valley in order that she might be duly
ushered into the sisterhood of women by the time-honored and consecrating
ritual of the puberty dance. Without this sacred observance she would
be an outcast, a pariah dishonored and despised of her tribe. First it was
necessary that she should fast for the space of nine days. Three days she
fasted therefore, before setting out on her journey, and on the morning of
the fourth she started homeward, accompanied by a bevy of her young
companions, Hupa maidens.. It was a long and weary journey that lay
before them; over two rugged mountain-chains, across deep and precipi-
tous valleys, through wild, lonesome forests.
Already weak and faint from her three days nearly total abstinence,
84 THE HUPA.
Nish-Fang set out to ascend the first mountain. No man might behold her
countenance during those nine days, and as she journeyed she buried
her face in her hands. Wearily she toiled up the great steep, along the
rugged and devious trail, often sitting down to rest. When she became
so exhausted that she could no longer hold up her arms, her young com-
panions bore them up, lest some man should behold her face and be stricken
with sudden death. By slow stages they struggled on among the gigantic
redwood roots where the sure-footed mules had trodden out steps knee-
deep; through vast, silent forests, where no living thing was visible save
the enormous leather-colored trunks of the redwoods, heaving their majestic
crowns against the sky, shutting out the sunlight; then down into deep
and narrow canons where the overshadowing foliage turned the daylight
into darkness, where the owl gibbered at noonday, and the cougar and the
coyote shrieked and coughed through the black, pulseless night. Every
night they encamped on the ground, safe under the impenetrable foliage of
the redwoods from the immodest scrutiny of the prurient stars. Long pack-
trains passed them by day, urged on in their winding trail among the red-
woods by the clamorous drivers who looked and wondered if this woman
had been stricken blind; but though these were the hereditary enemies of
her race and she might have destroyed them by a single glance, she lifted
not her hands from her face.
At last they found themselves moiling up the yet steeper and higher
slope of the second mountain-chain, through tangled thickets of the huckle-
berry, the wild rose, the silvery-leafed manzanita, and the yellowing
ferns, with here and there a stalk of dry fennel amid the coarse, rasping
erasses, filling the hot mountain air with a faint aroma. Near the summit
there is a spring, where the trail turns aside to a camping ground beneath
a wide-branching fir-tree that stands solitary on the arid southern slope.
Here they rested and drank of the cool waters. Then they rose to descend
into the valley. But Nish-Fang could go no farther ; she sank in a swoon
upon the ground. And yet, with the instinct of her savage superstition
ever strong upon her, though insensible, her hands still covered her face.
Then her companions lifted her in their arms and bore her down the long
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THE PUBERTY DANCE. 85
descent of the mountain, through the grateful coolness of the fir-trees and
the madronos, past many a murmuring spring, down into the sunny valley
of the Trinity, straw-colored in its glorious autumn ripeness, and tinted
with a mellow lilac haze. There in the home of her fathers, when her
nine days were fully accomplished, in the shadow of a grove of little thin-
leafed oaks, the Hupa danced around her and chanted the ancient chorals
of the puberty dance. Then the chief lifted her by the hand and the
maiden Nish-Fang became a woman of her tribe.
The puberty dance (kin'-alkh-ta) above referred to is celebrated in the
following manner: For the space of nine days the male relatives of the girl
dance all night, but her female relatives do not join in the dancing, only in
the singing. The girl eats no meat, and remains apart and blindfolded all
this while. During the tenth night she is in the house, but keeps close in a
corner. The finishing stroke of the ceremony is participated in by two old
women and two young men, her relatives, the young men having around
their heads leather bands thickly set with sea-lions’ teeth—a ferocious-looking
head-dress consecrated especially to this ceremony. ‘These five persons are
in a row, the girl in the center, the two young men standing on either side
of her and the two old women squatting on the outside. The girl goes for-
ward a few steps, then backward. She does this ten times, chanting and
throwing her hands up to her shoulders. The last time she runs forward,
and gives a leap; then the ceremony is ended.
She is now ready for marriage, and she will bring in the market from
three to ten strings (about half the valuation of a man); that is, from $15
to $50. If her husband after paying for her is not pleased with his bar-
gain, he can return her to her father and receive back his money. If she
has children and the father-in-law takes them he returns all the money;
but if the father keeps them he is obliged to content himself with half the
money. Sometimes each child she has reared is reckoned at a string in
estimating the woman’s commercial value. The Indians relate an instance
where a man wished to marry his deceased brother’s widow. ‘The woman
had cost seven strings, and he demanded that she must either marry him or
86 THE HUPA.
her friends must refund to him the seven strings. The friends were not
willing to do this, but they offered, in case the woman did not wish to marry
him, to refund the money minus one string for each of her children.
Finally, however, the woman married him.
The Hupa do not compare with the Indians farther south in the num-
ber of substances which they employ in their therapeutics. They are poor
physicians. Angelica is a panacea with them, and almost the only one.
Their great remedy is suction and conjuration.
"
CHAPTER IX.
TRIBES TRIBUTARY TO THE HUPA.
In this chapter I will group together the contiguous tribes that were
subject to the Hupa. Probably not all of them actually paid tribute to that
powerful tribe, but they were all so vigorously domineered by them that
they eventually lost the distinctiveness of their respective languages and
customs, and fell into the ways of their masters. The complete subjugation
of these peoples appears to have occupied the Hupa a long series of years,
and in the case of the Chi-mal’-a-kwe at least it was only just completed
when the whites arrived.
THE CHIL-LU-LA.
This tribe occupied Redwood Creek from the coast up about twenty
miles. Very little can be positively stated of their customs, for all that
remain of them have been removed to the reservation where the process of
absorption into the Hupa has been completed. Contradictory statements
are made as to their original language, some asserting that it was Yurok,
and others Hupa. It was probably a dialect of Yurok, though as usual in
this region, most men of the tribe spoke several languages. The name above
given them was bestowed by the Yurok. The Hupa called them Tes’-wan.
The greater prevalence of the name “Chillula” goes to show that they were
related to the Yurok.
The Chillula bury their dead. Like most of the coast tribes they are
very dark-colored, squat in stature, rather fuller-faced than the interior
Indians, guttural in their speech, and characterized by hideous and incredi-
ble superstitions, and a belief in the almost universal diabolism of nature.
They believe in a monstrous and frightful devil, who has horns, wings, and
claws; who can fly through the air with inconceivable rapidity; seize and
‘ 87
88 TRIBES TRIBUTARY TO THE HUPA.
instantly crush to death a human being, or bear him away through the forest.
If any one is ever so unfortunate as to behold this fearful hobgoblin he
dies upon the spot. Mr. Hempfield related to me a story of a Chillula
squaw whom he once found in the forest rigid in the last agonies of death,
with blood oozing from the nostrils and ears, and her eyes fixed in a horrid
ghastly stare; and who he had no doubt was frightened to death by believ-
ing that she had beheld the devil. The Indians told him such was not an
uncommon occurrence among the squaws.
Under various forms this superstition is common to the coast tribes of
this region. ‘The Chillula multiply terrors to themselves by assigning this
one supreme devil legions of assistants, who assume divers forms, as those
of bats, hawks, tarantulas, and especially that of the screech-owl; and who
make it their business to torment people, bewitch them, poison them, and
do other dreadful things. Let a Chillula woman hear the unearthly gibber-
ing of a screech-owl in the dead and pulseless stillness of midnight, and
she shudders with unspeakable horror. It is difficult for us to conceive of
the speechless terrors which these poor wretches suffer from the screeching
of owls, the shrieking of night-hawks, the rustling of the trees, or even the
cold-legged and slimy crawling of insects, all of which are only channels
of deadly poison wherewith the demons would smite them.
THE. WHIL -KUT.
This name is said to be derived from the Hupa verb hu-al'-kut, whal'-kut,
“to give”, from which comes H6-al-kut-whuh, “the givers”, corrupted by
the Americans into Whil-kut. Hence these people are “the tributaries”.
They lived on Upper Redwood Creek, from the territory of the Chillula up
to the source. They ranged across southward by the foot of the Bald Hills,
which appear to have marked the boundary between them and the Chillula
in that direction, and penetrated to Van Dusen’s Fork, opposite the Sai’-az
and the Las’-sik, with whom they occasionally came in conflict.
Very little can be affirmed of them, for the same reasons which obtain
in regard to the Chillula. Mr. Hempfield states that they burned their
dead, but this seems somewhat doubtful, seeing they were surrounded on
. Sane
4“
%.
THE KELTA—FOOD AND LODGES. 89
all sides by tribes who regarded cremation as dishonorable. Probably their
custom was somewhat varied.
They spoke Hupa, but were distinguished as a tribe of polyglots, like
most tribes of this region.
THE KeL’-TA.
The south fork of the Trinity is the home of the Kel’-ta (Khlél’-ta). I
know not if they ever had any tribal name of their own; if they ever had
they have allowed it to be supplanted by the one above employed, bestowed
on them by the Hupa.
They formerly had a distinct language, but the Hupa encroached so
much upon it that it now amounts to nothing. They are per force poly-
glots; and I saw a curious specimen of this class of inter-tribal interpreters,
so peculiar to California. He was called “Old One-eye”, and had been
facetiously dubbed ‘‘Mr. Baker”, a title which had greatly elevated him in
his own opinion. To maintain it with suitable dignity he considered an
ancient and badly smashed tile hat and a cast-off regulation-coat with brass
buttons, as absolutely indispensable. He had one eye and six languages in
his head.
The Kelta build a conical wigwam, but without a cellar underneath.
Their implements, baskets, ete., are about the same as those heretofore
described. They have the same curious custom as the Karok of trimming
up trees with a head and two outstretched arms, and using the branches for
making assembly chamber fires.
A veteran pioneer and ‘‘squaw-man” among them informed me that
they eat soap-root (chlorogalum pomeridianum) when they are hard pushed
in the spring. They extract the poisonous quality from it by roasting,
which they do by heaping a large quantity of it on the ground, covering
it over with green leaves, and building a fire over it. This is allowed to
burn many hours until the poison is thoroughly roasted out, when the root
is said to be quite sweet and palatable. They also find a root grow-
ing in moist places, of which they make much account, and which is
probably cammas, and is called the wild potato, which when roasted and
peeled is sweetish and toothsome. The great amount of roots in this State
which are sweet when roasted, and especially the cammas—the digging of
os
90 TRIBES TRIBUTARY TO THE HUPA.
which procured for the California Indians the injurious appellation of
““Digeers”—seems to account partly for the sweet-tooth that every one of
them has. Let a squaw get together a few dimes by hook or crook, and she
will hie her to a trading-post and invest every cent of it in sugar, when she
grievously needs a few breadths of calico. They are as fend of the article
as the eastern Indians are of whisky, and eat it as they would bread. The
large quantity of saccharine matter which the California Indians get in the
roots they eat seems to have somewhat to do with their fatness in youth,
just as children are always eating candy, and have round cheeks.
They gather also huckleberries and manzanita-berries, which latter are
exceptionally large and farinaceous in the Trinity Valley. I have seen
thickets of them wherein an acre could be selected that would yield more
nutriment to human life, if the berries were all plucked, than the best acre
of wheat ever grown in California, after the expenses of cultivation were
deducted. The agriculture of the Upper Trinity and South Fork—heaven
save the mark !—will never support a population one-fourth as numerous as
the Indians were, and I greatly doubt if the placers, even in the haleyon
years of their yield, supported as many as lived there in the days of
savagery.
Before the miners troubled the waters the salmon crowded up so thick
that all the river was darkened by their black-backed myriads, and they
sometimes lingered until they perished by hundreds before they could return
to salt water and rid themselves of the devouring fresh-water parasites. An
old settler says he has often seen them lying so close that he could go across
the thin stream in summer-time stepping every step on a dead salmon.
Extreme democracy prevails among the Kelta, each village having its
figure-head of a chief, whom they obey or not, as they list. As among the
Hupa, adultery committed by a married man is punished by the loss of one
eye, and murder by ransom.
Like all savages, the Kelta are inveterate gamblers, either with the
game of “ cuessing the sticks” or with cards; and they have a curious way
of punishing or mortifying themselves for failure therein. When one has
been unsuccessful in gaming, he frequently scarifies himself with flints or
glass on the outside of the leg from the knee down to the ankle, scratching
Se ee
CLAIRVOYANCE—DESTINY OF SOULS. 91
the limb all up criss-cross until it bleeds freely. He does this ‘for luck”,
believing that it will appease some bad spirit who is against him.
Their shamans profess to be spiritualists, not merely having visions in
dreams, which is common among the California Indians, but pretending to
be able to hold converse with spirits in their waking hours by clairvoyance.
An incident is related which is about as worthy of credence as the majority
of ghost-stories narrated by the gente de razon. There was a certain Indian
who had murdered Mr. Stockton, the agent of the reservation, besides three
other persons at various times, and was then a hunted fugitive. The mat-
ter created much excitement and speculation among the tattle-loving
Indians, and one day a Kelta shaman cried out suddenly that he saw the
murderer at that moment with his spiritual eyes. He described minutely
the place where he was concealed, told how long he had been there, ete.
Subsequent events revealed the fact that the shaman was substantially cor-
rect, whether he drew on his clairvoyant vision or on knowledge somehow
smuggled.
They make a curious and rather subtle metaphysical distinction in
the matter of spirits. According to them, there is an evil spirit or devil
(Kitoanchwa, 1 Hup& word) and a good spirit; but the good spirit is name-
less. he evil spirit is positive, active, and powerful; but the good spirit
is negative and passive. The former is without, and ranges through space
on evil errands bent; but the latter is within them; it is their own spirit,
their better nature, or conscience. Like Confucius, who calls the con-
science the “good heart”, they seem to believe that the original nature of
man is good, and that he does evil only under temptation from the bad
spirit without or external to himself.
When a Kelta dies, according to their pretty fancy, a little bird flies
away with his soul to the spirit-land. If he was a bad Indian, a hawk will
catch the little bird and eat him up, soul and feathers; but if he was good,
he will reach the spirit-land. Before the Americans came, they used to
bury their dead in a squatting posture, which is a Win-ttin custom; but now
they follow the Hup& custom, which is also that of civilization.
THE CHI-MAL/-A-KWE.
The Chi-mal’-a-kwe lived on New River, a tributary of the Trinity, but
92 TRIBES TRIBUTATY TO THE HUPA.
they are now extinct. When the Americans arrived there were only two
families, or about twenty-five persons, on that stream who still spoke Chi-
malakwe; all the rest of them used Hupa. On the Trinity itself, from
Burnt Ranch up to the mouth of North Fork, there lived a tribe called the
Chim-a-ri-ko (evidently the same word as the above), who spoke the same
language as the Chimalakwe, and there are perhaps a half dozen of them
yetliving. The New River Branch were interesting as affording indubitable
proof that the Hupa exacted tribute from certain surrounding tribes, for at
the time when the whites arrived the Chimalakwe were paying them yearly
a tax of about seventy-five cents per capita—that is, an average deer-skin.
An early pioneer among them named White states that they were once
nearly as numerous as the Hupa, but the restless aggression and persistency
of that sturdy race crushed them utterly out. The Chimalakwe seem to
represent the true California Indians, while the Hupa belong to the Atha-
bascan races; and we behold here one of the last conquests of this northern
invasion, whose steady progress southward was only checked by the advent
of the Americans. As above stated, there were two families of Indians
speaking more or less Chimalakwe when the whites arrived; but in fifteen
years from that time it had dwindled to a mere category of names, though
there were not many of the tribe left to speak either Hupa or Chimalakwe.
They are a melancholy illustration of the rapidity with which the sim-
ple tribes of mountaineers have faded away before the white man, while the
more pliant and less heroic lowlanders, conserving their strength through
sluggishness, have held on for years. When the serpent of civilization came
to them, and they found they were naked, like Adam and Eve in the garden,
they made for themselves garments or stole them. Then when there came
@
one of those sweltering days of California the savages chafed themselves,
and grew hot in their new clothes, and they stripped them off to the last
piece. Besides that, they suddenly changed their diet to a semi-civilized
fashion. All these things opened a broad door to quick consumption and
other maladies, and the poor wretches went off like leaves on a frosty morn-
ing in October. It is related that at one time there were not enough able-
bodied Indians in the tribe to dig graves for the dead; and the neighboring
whites, to their shame be it recorded, refused to assist them, so that many
SWEATING FOR NEURALGIA —THE CHIMARIKO. 93
of them became a prey to the birds and the beasts. So they went like a
little wisp of fog, no bigger than a man’s hand, on the top of a mountain,
when the sun comes up in the morning, and they are all gone.
Living so far up the Trinity as they did, toward the great family of
Wintiin, on the Sacramento, they showed a trace of Winttin influence in
that they doubled up a corpse into a bunch to bury it. Their doctors were
like the Wintiin, too, in sucking the patient for many ailments, especially
for snake-bites.
But their panacea was the sweat-house. Mr. White relates that he once
ventured an experiment in one of these sweating-dungeons out of curiosity
and in despair over a neuralgia, for the healing of which he had suffered
many things of many physicians, and had spent all that he had, and was
nothing bettered, but rather grew worse. The first time he was well-nigh
suffocated by the dense and bitter smudge made by the green wood. Tor
two hours he lay with his face pressed close to the ground, with a wet
handkerchief over his nostrils (the Indians purposely build the fire close to
the door, so that they cannot escape until it burns down), and it was a
wonder to himself that he lived through it. But he was so much benefited
that he made a second trial of it, and was quite cured.
We have seen that the branch living on the Trinity are called Chi-
mariko. I have above intimated my belief that these represent the true
Californians, while the Hupiare Athabascan. As far as the Hupa ascended
the river we find the redwood canoe, but no farther. The Chimariko never
had the enterprise to get one up over the falls in the canon at New River
Mountain, and no redwoods grow in their own territory. Hence they
crossed the river on willow baskets, holding them under their breasts and
propelling themselves with their feet and hands.
It is related that their hunters, when they went out to lie in ambush
near salt-licks and other springs, were accustomed to smear their bows and
arrows with yerba buena, to prevent the deer from detecting the human odor,
and that when they took this precaution they generally had good success.
The oak mistletoe was occasionally smoked by these Indians in lieu of
tobacco.
In the early days, before the mining operations filled up the Trinity,
94 TRIBES TRIBUTARY TO THE HUPA.
there was a fall five or six feet high at Big Flat, above which the salmon
could not pass. Hence the Wintiin living on the upper reaches of the river
were not so well provisioned as their down-river neighbors. In running up
the river the salmon would accumulate in great numbers at this obstruction,
and the Chimariko used to allow the Patch’-a-we (Wintiin) living as far up
as North Fork and Cafion Creek to come down in the season and catch all
they could carry home.
They occupied a long and narrow canon, which was rich in gold placers
and tempting to the awri sacra fames of the early miners. The mining neces-
sarily roiled the river, so that the Indians could not see to spear salmon.
As a matter of course they protested. The miners replied with insults, if
nothing worse. Being deprived of salmon, their staff of life, they stole
the miners’ pack-mules and ate them. The miners made bloody reprisals.
The eloquence of Pi-yel-yal-li, of Big Flat, stirred them up to seek
revenge, and thus matters went on from bad to worse until the deep canon
of the Trinity was luridly lighted up by the torch of war, and reéchoed to
horrid war-whoops and the yells of the wounded and dying. In 1863~64
the conflict raged with frightful truculence on either side. The Indians for
the nonce got the upper hand. For twenty miles along the river there was
scarcely a white family or even a miner left; the trading-posts were sacked
and burned; the ponderous wheels in the bed of the river lazily flapped in
the waters now muddied no longer, silent and untended amid the blackened
ruins; and the miners’ cabins were very small heaps of ashes.
But the Americans finally rallied and returned, and sternly were the
Indians taught that they must not presume to discuss with American miners
the question of the proper color for the water in Trinity River. They were
hunted to the death, shot down one by one, massacred in groups, driven
over precipices; but in the bloody business of their taking-off they also
dragged down to death with them a great share of the original settlers, who
alone could have given some information touching their customs. In the
summer of 1871 it was commonly said that there was not an Indian left.’
The gold was gone too, and the miners for the greater part; and amid the
stupendous ripping-up and wreck of the earth which miners leave behind
them, in this grim and rock-bound cation, doubly lonesome now with its
INDIANS VS. GOLD—THE PATAWE. 95
deserted villages sagging this way and that on little margins of shores, the
stripped and rib-smashed cabins, corrugated gravel-beds, shattered turbine-
wheels, and the hollow roaring of the river amid the gray bowlders, as if in
a kind of querulous lament over its departed glories—long ago, the dark-
skinned fishermen peering keenly down from their leafy booths, with spears
ready poised; afterward, the restless, toiling bands of miners—one finds
himself indulging in this reflection: “The gold is gone, to return no more;
the white man wanted nothing else; the Trinity now has nothing but its
salmon to offer; the Indian wanted nothing else; would not a tribe of
savages be better than this utter and irreclaimable waste, even if the gold
had never been gotten ?”
THE PAT’-A-WE (PATCH’-A-WE).
This is the name given by the Chimariko to the Wintiin, consequently
they will be treated of elsewhere. Their habitat extended down the Trinity
to the mouth of North Fork. They were not in any degree subject to the
Hupa.
CHAPTER X.
THE PAT! A-WAT.
Around Humboldt Bay there is a broad margin of land which is with-
out dispute the most valuable compact body of soil for agricultural pur-
poses in all the northern part of the State—the very jewel of the California
coast. The extraordinary exuberance of vegetation in the humid atmos-
phere of this region makes it look ragged and unhandsome, with flaunting
brake and ferns by every roadside, and concealing every fence-row, and
affording a lodging-place for great quantities of dust; but the depth and
richness of the soil—that is the wonderful thing. And yet this land of
almost unparalleled fecundity was the home of some of the most degraded
races of Northern California.
The Patawat live on the lower waters of Mad River, and round Hum-
boldt Bay as far south as Arcata, perhaps originally as far down as Eureka.
They are black-skinned; pudgy in stature; well cushioned with adipose
tissue; with little berry-like eyes, often bleared; low foreheads; harsh,
black, stiff hair; extremely timid and inoffensive; and a prey all their
lives long to the most frightful and ghoulish superstitions I have heard
anywhere. Living on the richest and goodliest of lands, they were the
envy of their poorer neighbors, and were harried from time immemo-
rial by the fierce Mattoal on the south, by the fiercer Sai’-az and Whilkut
on the east, and by the Chillula on the north. They formerly built either
the common conical hut, or the Klamath lodge of puncheons, with a round,
shallow cellar, though now most of them imitate the American house ; and
their implements are about the same as everywhere. The squaws tattoo in
blue three narrow, pinnate leaves perpendicularly on their chins, and also
96
FUR ROBES—BILLY THE CHIEF. 97
lines of small dots on the backs of their hands. They make beautiful
robes of hare-skins, and you may any time see a stout brave slumbering
on the naked earth with his head pillowed on a convenient billet of
wood and his body covered with a wild cat-skin rug that a San Francisco
millionaire might envy for an afghan. An Indian will trap and
slaughter seventy-five hare for one of these robes, making it double,
with fur inside and out; and on one of the dank nights when the sea-
wind howls dismally in from Humboldt Bay, or when the fog broods so
dense over the land that one can cleave a rift in it with his swung fist,
these are very comfortable to lie under. They also make very substan-
tial tule-mats, almost equal to the Chinese manufacture of bamboo.
One day I talked a long while with one Billy, the only son of the last
recognized chief, an Indian with a good knowledge of English, and a suit
of clothing which was neat and chastened in tone and complete even to the
dapper little necktie. He was a man of about five feet two inches in stat-
ure; with a pudding-sack face broader than it was long perhaps; his voice
was soft; his manner gentle; and his round cheeks easily rippled into a
pleasant smile. He said he was fully entitled to the succession and nobody
else pretended to be chief; but the tribe was so wasted that he took nothing
upon him, and he seemed to grow melancholy when the subject was broached.
He appeared to have sufficient acumen to perceive what a mournful farce
it would be for him to strut in a little fifteen-man authority.
In my conversation with him I caught a glimpse of what might be
called hereditary imbecility—that is, the stunting of intellect which comes
of afew families marrying in and in for a long period of years. He said the
chief of the I-tok on Kel River (there is no tribe calling themselves that
he probably meant the Vi-ard) had lately died, leaving the succession to
] D 8
his son ; but the latter was unfit to rule, being a natural. ‘‘ White man call
him crazy”, said Billy in explanation. He also said that himself was not in
yea I
his sound mind. ‘Me no want to be chief; me too much like play”, he
! , Yd ~
said. Billy was far from being crazy, but he was a fine specimen of that
placid and vacuous inutility which we occasionally see illustrated in Europe,
among those born in the purple.
Eee
98 THE PATAWAT.
The Patawat have reduced the science and practice of law down to a
tolerably accurate mechanism in one matter at least—that of mulctuary
punishment. The average fine imposed for the murder of a man is ten
strings of allikochik, each string consisting of ten pieces, and for that of a
squaw five strings of equal length. As the pieces of this shell-money gen-
erally average, and as it was at first valued in American coin, these fines
amount to about $100 and $50, respectively. If any one is curious to have
amore determinate Indian standard, I may say that an average Patawat’s
life is considered worth about six ordinary canoes, each of which occupies
two Indians probably three months in the making (that is, of old), or, in all,
tantamount to the labor of one man for a period of three years. Many a
California homicide has escaped with no more than three years’ “ hard
labor” in the penitentiary. P
A wife is always acquired by purchase, and her market value is reeu-
lated on a sliding scale, on which the prices range all ‘the way from two up
to fifteen strings. Jacob wrought seven years for Rachel; a Patawat may
get his spouse for the equivalent of about nine months’ labor, such as it is,
or she may cost him as much as five years’ labor.
The Patawat also have the custom, which prevails among the Yurok,
of contracting “half-marriages.”
This tribe has a superstition which, if not actually a belief in vam-
pires, is a close approximation thereto. According to my veracious little
chief, there are innumerable spooks, in the forms of men and women who
are in the habit of digging up dead Indians and carrying them away into
the forest. There they extract from these dead bodies, by burning and by
some process of infernal alchemy, divers kinds of poisons, which they use
in the destruction of other victims. These ghouls have equal power over
the dead and the living. In the night they frequently give chase to people
in forests, catch them, and rob them with violence of all their dllikochik.
They also have power to turn men and women into dogs, coyotes, ground-
squirrels, and other animals; and they often resort to this highly unjustifia-
ble measure. These imps of hell do not appear to be proper vampires, in
that they are not dead Indians returned to life, but pre-existing demons
assuming the human form.
MEDICINES—OLD GRAVEYARDS. 99
.
All these things Billy related to me with the most profound earnest-
ness and good faith, and many other matters he added thereto, the recital of
which would make the hair of the human race stand on end. But I have
now something to record of him which is greatly more creditable to his intel-
ligence and that of his tribe. One day I strolled leisurely several miles
through the Mad River forest with my little chaperone, and our conversa-
tion turning on the practice of medicine he pointed out to me as we went
along every plant or shrub that possessed a healing virtue. He must have
called my attention to fifty different kinds of vegetation, all used by the
physicians for medicine, and to every one he gave a distinct name. ‘There
is not the smallest moss or lichen, not a blossoming shrub or -tree or root,
not a flower or vine, no forest parasite, bulrush, or unsightly weed grow-
ing inthe water or out, or any sea-weed or kelp, for which they have not
a specific name; and it seemed to me that Billy pointed out as good for
one disease or another nearly half of all the herbs or bushes we saw; so
copious and carefully defined is the Patawat materia medica. (See chapter
on “Aboriginal Botany. ”)
Among the Patawat the dead are always buried and their possessions
placed in the graves with them. There is evidence to show that this cus-
tom long antedates the advent of the Americans. Mr. Hempfield related
to me that in the early days of the settlements around Humboldt Bay, he
had seen old Indian burying-grounds containing hundreds of graves, each
marked with a redwood slab. Though a soft wood, the redwood is noted
for its durability ; and the size and condition of some of these head-boards
rendered it probable that the graves had been made seventy-five or a hun-
dred years.
The Patawat are like the Viard in almost every respect, and I was able
to obtain various supplementary particulars’ of the latter; so I will only
add here the numerals common to both tribes:
1. Koh’-tseh. 5. Weh’-sah. 9. Sri-ré-keh.
2 Dieteh: 6. Chil-6-keh. 10. Lo-kel’.
3. Di-keh. 7. A-tloh.
4. Df-oh. 8. I-wit.
100 THE PATAWAT.
The pronunciation, of the Patawat, like that of the Yurok, is quite
guttural. Judge Rosborough states, in the letter above quoted, that one
and the same language extends from Humboldt Bay to Waitspek, and that it
is “not unpleasing to the ear, being free from harsh and guttural sounds.”
This does not correspond with my observations. The Patawat and Viard
are undoubtedly identical with the Koquilth or Kowilth mentioned by
Gibbs. The Yurok does not extend as far south as Humboldt Bay.
Fic. 9.— Indians at sea.
CHAPTER XI.
THE VI-ARD OR WI-YOT.
The Viard live on lower Humboldt Bay and Eel River as far up as
Eagle Prairie. On the north side of Van Dusen’s Fork were the Whil-kut,
extending down to the confluence of the streams. The Viard, as above
noted, are very nearly identical in customs and language with the Patawat.
They appear to have constructed both the conical and the Klamath
River wigwam of hewn puncheons, in the making of which they displayed
some ingenuity. They first took elk-horns and rubbed them on stones to
sharpen them into axes and wedges. Then selecting some fallen redwood
that was straight and free from knots, with incredible labor they hacked a
notch a few inches deep and reaching perhaps a third or more of the way
around the tree. Next they brought the elk-horn wedges into play, with stones
for beetles, and split off a kind of jacket-slab, long enough for the height
ot the wigwam, two or three inches in thickness and four or five feet wide.
A veteran woodman relates that he has seen them of the enormous width
of seven feet. Of course this puncheon observes the curvature of the tree,
but on being exposed to the sun for a few days it warps out flat. They
then dressed it smooth with elk-horn or flint axes, and it was ready for use.
Very much the same process is said to have been employed on the Klamath.
If the lodge was conical they could employ slabs of the huge red-
wood bark; but only puncheons set in the ground would make a shelter
tolerably secure against the tempestuous winds of Humboldt Bay. For a
door they take one of these enormous puncheons, and with their elk-horn
axes perforate a round hole through it, just large enough to admit the
passage of an Indian on all fours ; and on the inside they frequently place
a sliding panel, so that the door can be rendered baby-tight on occasion.
Being notably timid and unskillful in hunting the larger animals they
depended mainly on snares and traps to supply themselves with game. To
101
102 THE VIARD OR WIYOT.
catch deer or elk they constructed two long lines of brush-wood fence, so
slight as not to arouse the animals’ suspicions, or simply tied single strips of
bark from tree to tree in a continuous string, the two lines gradually con-
verging until they compelled the elk to pass through a narrow chute. At
this point they placed a pole in such a manner that the animal was obliged
to let down his horns to pass underneath, and thus he inserted his head into
the noose. This was made of grass or fibrous roots, twisted in a rope as
large as a man’s arm, and was attached to a pole in such a fashion that
the elk dragged it down, whereupon it speedily became entangled in the
contiguous bushes and anchored him fast.
Sometimes, to their great dismay, they snared “Old Ephraim,” instead
of an elk or a deer. Among the earliest colonists in the vicinity of Hum-
boldt Bay was Seth Kinman, who relates the following incident: One day
an Indian came running to his cabin with all his might, desperately blown
after a hard six-mile stretch, and so cut in his wind that he could not divulge
the matter of his business for a considerable space of time. Panting and
puffing, and in a drip of perspiration as if he had just emerged from the
sweat-house, he made out to reveal his errand by pantomime some time
before he recovered his wind. Kinman quickly caught down his rifle
and .they ran back together. Arrived on the spot he found an enormous
erizzly bear snared in the noose, frantic with rage, roaring, lunging
about, dragging down bushes and saplings with the pole, and throwing
himself headlong when suddenly brought up by some tree. The Indian
would not venture within rods of him. NKinman slowly approached and
waited for the mighty beast to become a little pacified. He waited not
long though, lest the rope might chafe off, and presently drew up and sent
a bullet singing into his brain. The great brute fell, quivered, then lay
quiet. But it was only when Kinman approached and stamped on his head
with his heel that the cowardly Indians were assured; and then from all
the forest round about there went up a multitudinous shout. From a score
of trees they scrambled down in all haste. Not more than a dozen had
been in sight when Kinman arrived on the ground, but now scores col-
lected in a few minutes, gazing upon the enormous brute with owl-eyed
wonder, not unmixed with terror.
EEL-FISHING—A POPULOUS TRIBE. 103
Like all coast tribes the Viard depended largely on fishing for a sub-
sistence, and the lower waters of Eel River yielded them a wonderful
amount of rich and oleaginous eels. To capture these they constructed a
funnel-shaped trap of splints, with a funnel-shaped entrance at the large
end, through which the creature could wriggle, but which closed on him
and detained him inside. Traps of this kind they weighted down so that
they floated mostly below the surface of the water, and then tied them to
stakes planted in the river bottom. Thus they turned about with the
swish of the tide, keeping the large ends always against the current, that
the eels might slip in readily.
The operation of driving these stakes into the river-bed as points of
attachment for eel-traps, illustrates a point of Indian character. Wading
out into the stream the fisherman gripes the top of the stake firmly in one
hand to prevent it from being splintered, and with a stone in the other
softly and carefully beats it into the hard-packed shingle. He works and
saws it about, tapping it gently the while; and in this fashion he labors
sometimes for hours on one pile, but drives it down at last so solid that
nothing can root it out, where-a white man, with his impatience and his
sledge-hammer, would have battered it into a hundred slivers and failed
totally. Mr. Dunganne relates that in former times the great number of
these stakes driven into the river-bed in summer made it look like an old,
deserted corn-field.
Besides this they fish for salmon and smelt in all the various methods
practiced by the Yurok. They also drive down little weirs across tide-
water bayous, and by observing the ebb and flow of the waters capture
large quantities of little flat fish resembling the eastern perch, but some-
thing different.
The amazing fecundity of both land and water about Humboldt Bay
once sustained a dense Indian population. The populousness of the ancient
grave-yards, above referred to, is.one proof thereof; and the concordant
testimony of the oldest settlers—Dunganne, Duncan, Kinman, and others—
as to the multitudes living on the shores of this noble bay when they ar-
rived, is conclusive. But their manner of smelt-fishing in the surf, whereby
their eyes were often filled with brine, and the high, sand-driving winds
104 THE VIARD OR WIYOT.
which prevail at certain seasons about the estuary of Eel River, occasioned
much ophthalmia among them, and eventually a great deal of blindness.
Mighty eaters are the Viard upon occasion. Mr. Robinson relates
that he was once hunting in company with four Indians and a white man,
when the latter beat up and shot an elk which proved to be not in good
condition, and which he consequently abandoned. He gave it to the In-
dians, and they at once kindled a fire hard by to protect them against the
assaults of grizzly bears, made every preparation for a vigorous campaign
on the tough and ancient flesh of the animal, and then fell to lively. In
twenty-four hours they accomplished the whole matter, and picked the
bones clean. Chancing to pass the place again at the expiration of that
period of time, he found the Indians lying in a torpid sleep, and nothing
left but the skeleton. Now the flesh of the elk is very solid and weighty,
like pork, and a fat and full-grown buck on Humboldt Bay not unfrequently
weighs 600 or 700 pounds. This one was lean but large-boned, and these
four Indians, at a low computation, must have devoured 150 pounds of meat
within twenty-four hours. Perhaps their dogs helped.
It was often a source of wonder to me how the delicate arrow-heads
used on war-arrows, with their long, thin points, could be made without
breaking them to pieces. The Viard proceed in the following manner:
Taking a piece of jasper, chert, obsidian, or common flint, which breaks
sharp-cornered and with a conchoidal fracture, they heat it in the fire and then
cool it slowly, which splits it in flakes. The arrow-maker then takes a flake
and gives it an approximate rough shape by striking it with a kind of ham-
mer. He then slips over his left hand a piece of buckskin, with a hole to’
fit over the thumb (this buckskin is to prevent the hand from being wounded),
and in his right hand he takes a pair of buck-horn pincers, tied together at
the point with a thong. Holding the piece of flint in his left hand he
breaks off from the edge of it a tiny fragment with the pincers by a twist-
ing or wrenching motion. The piece is often reversed in the hand, so that
it may be worked away symmetrically. Arrow-head manufacture is a
specialty, just as arrow-making, medicine, and other arts.
Paul Schumacher, in a communication to the Smithsonian Institution,
ives the following account of a different process in use among the Klamath
oO
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MAKING ARROW. HEADS—THANKSGIVING DANCE. ‘105
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HAUNTS—MODES OF THE CHASE. 117
sometimes abandon two or three times during the summer for convenience
in fishing, ete. Immediately on the coast this is scarcely done at all, be-
cause not necessary; but the Wailakki generally go higher up the little
streams in the heated term, roaming and camping along where the salmon
trout (Salmo Masoni) and the Coast Range trout (Salmo iridea) most abound.
They capture those and other minnows in a rather ignominious and un-
Waltonian fashion. When the summer heat dries up the streams to stag-
nant pools they rub the poisonous soap-root in the water until the fish are
stupefied, when they easily scoop them up, and the poison will not affect
the tough stomach of the aborigines.
In Ketten Chow Valley they used to gather immense quantities of
cammas (Cammasia esculenta). ‘Then there is a kind of wild potato grow-
ing on high and dry places (I saw no specimens of it) which they use to a
considerable extent, in addition to roots eaten by all California Indians.
In the Wintiin language, “Hetten Chow” denotes “‘cammas valley,” and
“Tetten Pum” means “‘cammas earth”.
The Wailakki have also a very unsportsmanlike method of capturing
deer. They run them down afoot. This is not so difficult a matter as one
might imagine in the case of a very fat buck. Deer have a habit of run-
ning pretty much in certain established trails, and the Indians make these
trails a study, post relays of men at points where the animal is pretty cer-
tain to pass, and so give him continuous chase until he is out of his range,
and thereby frequently get him so blown that he either stands at bay or
takes to the water. An old hunter tells me he has frequently seen them
capture a fine buck in this manner. Then, again, they construct two slight
lines of brushwood fence, converging to a point, where a snare is set, and
they chase the animal into this snare. Beside deer, they also run down
hare and rabbits, and this is still more easily done. A company of Indians
get together in a space of meadow or in an open wood, and whoop and
beat the cover to flush the quarry. Puss is terrified by the multitude of
voices, and runs wild, springs in the air, doubles, tacks, flings somersaults,
ducks, leaps square off from a straight run even when .nothing moves or
makes a noise near it, and so beats itself completely out, or slips into its
burrow. ‘This is great sport for the Indians. They whoop, laugh, scurry
118 THE WAILAKKI, BTC.
through the woods, jump, swing their arms, fling clubs, and make a deal of
noise. I have seen an Indian boy of fourteen run a rabbit to cover in ten
minutes, split a stick fine at one end, thrust it down the hole, twist it into
its scut, and pull it out alive. This was easier than it would have been to
shoot it, especially if he missed it.
One of their favorite dances is the black-bear dance, which is cele-
brated when one of the Wailakki braves has been so fortunate as to kill or
trap one of these animals of happy omen, or has even succeeded in pur-
chasing a skin of one. They stretch it up on stakes, and then caper and
chant around it in a circle, beating the skin with their fists as if they were
tanning the same.
Another joyous occasion is the clover dance, which is performed in
the season when the burr-clover gets lush and juicy to eat. The squaws
deck themselves out in deerskin-robes and strings of pretty shells, which
jingle and glint to their hopping, while each man has a circlet or coronal of
the soft white down of owls around his head, twisted in a fluffy roll as large
as his arm, and another very long one of the same description around his
loins, tied behind, with the two ends reaching down to the ground. In
short, the men endeavor to make themselves look as much like the great
white owlas possible, and the main purpose of their numerous antics appears
to be to keep these long tails flopping about. They stand in two circles—
the men inside, the women outside; strike up the inevitable droning chant,
and the women dance by simply jumping up and down on both feet, while
their partners in front of them leap, skip, brandish their arrows, and at a
certain turn of the chant they all jump up together, with a loud whoop and
shaking of bows and arrows, after which there is a dead silence for a few
moments, when they commence chanting again da capo. There is no feast-
ing at any time.
Filial piety cannot be said to be a distinguishing quality of the Wailakki,
or, m fact, of any Indians. No matter how high may be their station, the
aged and decrepit are counted a burden. The old man, hero of a hundred
battles, sometime “lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,” when his fading
eyesight no more can guide the winged arrow as of yore, is ignominiously
compelled to accompany his sons into the forest, and bear home on his
COURSE OF TRAILS. 119
poor old shoulders the game they have killed. He may be seen tottering
feebly in behind them, meek and uncomplaining, even speaking proudly of
their skill, while he is almost crushed to earth beneath a burden which their
unencumbered strength is greatly more able to support, but they touch it
not with so much as one of their fingers.
Most people who have traveled in the frontier regions of California,
especially if they were on foot, have probably been no little worried and
exasperated at the perversity with which the road-makers have run the trails
and roads over the summits of the hills. Often have I said to myself in
my hot impatience, “If there is one hill in all this land that is higher than
another, these engineers and graders are never content until they have car-
ried the road over the top of it.” But the Indians are more responsible for
this than our engineers. ‘Time and again I have wondered why the trails
so laboriously climb over the highest part of the mountain; but I afterward
discovered that the reason is because the Indians needed these elevated
points as lookout-stations for observing the movements of their enemies.
They run the original trails through the chaparral. The pioneers followed
in their footsteps, and widened the path when need was, instead of going
vigorously to work and cutting a new one on an easier grade; and in process
of time when a wagon-road became necessary they often followed the line
of the ancient trail. When the whole face of the country is wooded alike,
the old Indian trails will be found along the streams; but when it is some-
what open they invariably run along the ridges, a rod or two below the
crest—on the south side of it, if the ridge trends east and west; on the
east side, if it trends north and south. This is for the reason, as botanical
readers will understand, that the west or north side of a hill is most thickly
wooded. The California Indians seek open ground for their trails that they
may not be surprised either by their enemies or by cougars and grizzly
bears, of which beasts they entertain a lively terror.
The Wailakki are a choleric, vicious, quarrelsome race, like the Yuki
of Round Valley, whom they resemble; and these two tribes are the prime
rascals of all that country. Naturally, therefore, the tribe has been rap-
idly fretted away by the white men, and they would have been wholly
120 THE WAILAKKI, ETC.
abolished before this time had they not been gathered on the Round Valley
Reservation.
An adventure related by T. G. Robbins, of the California volunteers,
shows that the Wailakki are not lacking in bravery. His regiment, the
Second Infantry, had been pushing a stiff campaign against them south of
Kel River, routed them in a bloody fight, and drove them pell-mell over
the river at Big Bend. One of them being a poor swimmer lagged behind,
and when Robbins and his comrades emerged on the bank, they saw him
resting in the middle of the river, in the eddy of a bowlder. He now
struck out again, and the bullets spattered in the water around him like
hail. Once across, he perceived it would be death to run up the bank
under fire, so he concealed himself again. Robbins stripped to the buff
and swam over to tackle him. As he came out of the water the Indian
dashed at him with an enormous root in each hand. Both men were stark
naked, except that the Wailakki had a shell-button and a dime hanging
from each ear. The soldier struck at him, but his rotten billet of driftwood
splintered harmlessly over the savage’s head. The Indian aimed a mighty
blow in return, but the soldier threw up his left arm as in sword practice,
and the club broke over it, though the end -slammed down on his sconce,
causing him to perceive ten or twelve Indians and several hundred stars.
The Indian struck with his second club, but Robbins parried again, and
the club bounced high in the air. Both men were now disarmed. Instead
of closing in and grappling, as he should have done, the Indian made a
dive to recover his club. Quick as thought the soldier caught up another,
and as the Indian stooped he dealt him a stunning blow on the base of the
ear. ‘The savage fell all along on the gravel, and lay quivering in every
muscle, while the soldier, as he says, ‘‘beat him until there was not a whole
bone in his body”, and the company on the other side looked on and
applauded.
This trifling affair, with its truly Homeric termination, is worth
relating only as an instance of a fair, naked fight between men of the two
races, armed only with the weapons which nature offered: The upshot
shows that the savage was the equal of the other in strength, agility, and
courage, but was inferior in fencing.
THE LASSIK—A ROBBER TRIBE. 121
THE LAS -SIK.
The Las’-sik formerly dwelt in Mad River Valley, from the head-
waters down to Low Gap, or thereabout, where they bordered on the
Whilkut. They took their name from their last famous chief. As above
narrated, a little before the whites arrived they were driven out of this region
by the ineursion of the Wailakki, whence they removed to Van Dusen’s
Fork and Dobbins and Larrabie Creeks. They were of Wintiin affinities,
so here again they jostled against the original occupants, the Saiaz and
others, and in hard-fought battles were routed again. Thus ousted from
every place where they tried to establish homes—crowded, elbowed, super-
numerary in a crystallized population, beaten about from pillar to post, with
their hearts full of rancorous bitterness and despair—they became a band of
‘gypsies, or rather of thugs, houseless and homeless nomads, whose calling
was assassination, and whose subsistence was pillage. Their hand was
against every man, and every man’s hand against them. All the world was
their natural enemy. They roamed over the face of the earth, robbing and
murdering. It is said they took no scalps, but cut off a slain enemy’s feet
and hands. They even penetrated into the distant valley of the Sacra-
mento, where they came in conflict with the newly-arrived white man, and
by bloody defeat and fierce pursuit they were hurled back over the mountains
whence they came.
After much tough and bitter experience in this adoptive method of life,
the Lassik gradually ceased to murder in robbing, but continued to prose-
cute the latter occupation with undiminished vigor and brilliant success.
They would blacken their faces and bodies with charcoal, then go into the
forest near some sequestered house, or by the wayside, and squat there for
hours together motionless as a stump. So closely would they resemble the
latter object that the lynx-eyed backwoodsman and hero of fifty fights
would pass them by unaware. When some one came along at last
who was seemingly weak, and promised good picking, they would sally
forth quickly—strange how these stumps will-get up and run!—catch
the horse by the bit, and proceed to pluck the rider clean. Day after
day, week after week, they would come and squat in this fashion near
some lonely house, with that infinite persistence of the Indian, watching
122 THE: WAILAKKI, ETC.
the inmates as they came and went, counting them over and over again,
until they were certain of their number and quality. Then at last, on some
happy day, when all the signs of the zodiac, the sun and moon and planets,
were favorable, and no owl screeched, and the spiders were all still, and
everybody was gone out of the house except perhaps some old crone or
swaddled baby, they would summon courage to make a rush, capture the
solitary occupant, pinion him, and plunder the house with neatness and
dispatch.
Mr. Robinson related to me an instance where a certain house was plun-
dered by them three Aprils in succession, punctually to a week, and almost
toa day. It was the property of a lone wild Irishman, a shepherd, who
was necessarily absent day-times with his flock on the mountains, thus
leaving his household substance an easy prey to the savages. After being
twice robbed in succession, Paddy took unto himself a wife for a bulwark
and a defense to his possessions round about. But a third time the Lassik
came when he looked not for them, scaled the garden fence, made a sud-
den irruption into the house, and knowing the propensity of women to talk,
caught the Irishman’s wife, tied up her mouth tight, and bade her escape for
life. This she did, and they then proceeded without interruption to make
a choice selection of household goods, which they carried away.
This predatory gypsy life (they subsisted largely this way, not having
a right to any fishing-grounds), insured their speedy destruction by the
whites. In 1871 it was said there were only three of them left; these
had returned to the ancestral valley of Mad River, and were living under
protection of the whites.
THE SAI’-AZ.
As nearly as I could ascertain, the Sai’-az formerly occupied the
tongue of land jutting down between Eel River and Van Dusen’s Fork.
They were all carried away tothe Hoopa Valley Reservation, and had been
so long drageed about between home, the Smith River Reservation, and this,
that they were dwindled away to a most pitiful and miserable remnant, who
could give no intelligible account of themselves. The only thing which
can be stated with certainty is that they once dwelt somewhere on the east
bank of Eel River.
THE SAIAZ—THEIR ABJECT CONDITION. 123
It is the testimony of white men, who had had a taste of their quality,
that they were once among the bravest of the California Indians. It was only
after a long and heroic resistance that they gave under, and were led away
captive to the Smith River Reservation. It was in Hoopa Valley that I saw
them, and it was indeed hard to believe then that they had ever done any-
thing manly. They were the most abject of human beings—many of them
from living eternally in the smudge, with one or both eyes swollen and
horribly protruding ; some with their noses half eaten away ; all with their
coarse black hair drooping over faces pitted and slashed, or purple, blotched,
and channel-worn with the dribblings of bleared and sodden eyes. Their
naked and unspeakably filthy board cabins stood on a hot mesa beside the
river, with never a tree or a shrub to dapple their roofs with a sprinkle of
shade; the flaming sun made riot in the exhalations staggering up from the
fouled earth; bones, chips, skins, festering flesh were strewn about; and in
this place of miasma and famine the ghastly beings lay about in their
swarming tatters, basking in the sun like muddy-skinned caymans of Lou-
isiana, or drowsily shelling a few acorns, for they received no rations.
Most tribes of California either burn their lodges annually or abandon
them frequently to escape from the vermin; but here, condemned to live
always on one spot and in the same lodges which they were not taught how
to cleanse, they are almost devoured alive. In their native state they always
bathe the entire person daily in cold water; but here, huddled together in
foul, reeking quarters, what little pride of person they ever had was in a
fair way to be crushed out of them.
Judging from the wretched remnants that are left, the Saiaz resemble
most Kel River Indians, having rather squatty, adipose bodies, chubby
heads, and long simian hands. Like the Kelta they frequently scarify the
outside of their legs when they lose a bet in gambling.
They entertain a belief in what, out of contradistinction to Pantheism,
may be called Pandemonism. Most tribes living near the coast believe
that the devils or evil spirits of the world pervade many forms of animal
life, or at least are able to assume those forms at pleasure for the torment-
ing of men (though all of them have some one or more animals, as a
124 THE WAILAKKI, ETC.
white deer, a white mouse, a frog, a black bear, a black eagle, into which
the devil never does enter); but the Saiaz hold that these evil spirits also
take possession of the vegetable world for the plaguing of mankind.
For instance, acorns, leaves, or twigs falling from trees on the roofs of
their wigwams are all instinct with the devil, replete with demoniac, poison-
ous influence; and they think that the bad spirits assume these forms to
compass their destruction. When the winter wind goes over them with a
lonesome, ghostly shriek, and brings the acorns and leaves rattling down
on their roofs, they shudder, and the timid squaws scream with terror. One
would think that an imagination so lively would involve common sense
enough to suggest the building of the lodges in the open ground. And,
in fact, most of their villages, as is the case throughout California, are
built on open ground, though this is done rather with a view of preventing
hostile tribes from ambushing them.
One way the Saiaz and other Eel River Indians sometimes adopt in
crossing swift and deep rivers in winter is to hold stones on their heads to
weight them down so that they can wade over on the bottom. They will
stay under nearly’ two minutes, and by selecting smooth, gravelly places
they can cross streams of some rods in width this way.
My observations have been that the Indians of Kel and Mad Rivers are
of a rather short and pudgy stature, especially the Wailakki, and a decidedly
inferior physique in general; but the pioneers say that present appear-
ances are deceptive. These tribes have suffered much from wars with the
whites, and the remnants of them are the poorest specimens of their race,
who took little part in fighting. In an early day they averaged an inch or
two taller than the Indians of Sacramento Valley and the Weaverville Basin,
and were much finer men. The Wailakki are called by the Yuki “Kak’-
wits”; 7. ¢. ‘North People”.
The Wailakki call the Saiaz Noan’-kakhl, and the Mattoal and Lolon-
kik, Tul’-bush. All these tribes here mentioned originally spoke Wailakki.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE YU-KI.
To the traveler arriving on the summit between Eden Valley and the
Middle Eel River, looking north, there is presented one of the most beauti-
ful and picturesque landscapes in California. The name, ‘Round Valley”,
is descriptive of this noble domain, and there it lies, far below and beyond,
an ocean of yellow grain and pasture fields, islanded with stately groves of
white oak and encompassed on all sides with a coronal of blue, far-sloping
mountains, dappled green and golden with wild-oat glades and shredded
forest or chaparral. There is something rich and generous, like ripened
corn and wine, in the landscapes of the Coast Range in autumn, and over
all bends the soft sky of Italy, and pours the wonderful lilac chiaroscuro of
the atmosphere, which lends an inexpressible charm.
Here in the heart of the lofty Eel River Mountains, which shut it in
sixty or seventy miles from all the outer world, was a little Indian cockagne,
a pure democracy, fierce and truculent. The inhabitants of this valley,
unequaled in its loveliness by all that is said or sung of the Vale of Cash-
mere—the Yuki—were indisputably the worst tribe among the California
Indians.
I had a great deal of trouble in finding this singular people. I heard
about “Yuki” over in the Sacramento Valley, at Weaverville, on Hay
Fork, on Mad River, on Van Dusen’s Fork, and all along Eel River, and
always the “Yuki” were to be the next tribe that I would come upon.
At last I began to be skeptical of their very existence, and smiled an incred-
ulous smile whenever I heard the name “Yuki” mentioned.
’ The reason for this is curious. The word yuki in the Wintin lan-
guagesignifies “‘ stranger”, and hence, secondarily, ‘‘bad Indian” or “thief”;
125
126 THE YUKI.
and it was applied by that people to different tribes around them, just as
the ancient Greeks called all the outside world “barbarians”. There were
of old many tribes contiguous to them who actually were ‘bad Indians”
compared with the peaceful Wintiin; but the latter applied the epithet so
indiscriminately that the Americans, not troubling themselves to investigate
the matter, got confused on this subject. Hence the number of tribes
called “Yuki”. Asa matter of fact, there ave several tribes whom both
whites and Indians call “Yuki”; but this tribe alone acknowledge the title
and use it.
The unphilosophical and double-seeing Wintiin at Red Bluff described
the “Yuki” to me as terrific fellows, savage giants living in the Coast
Range Mountains, dwelling in cayes and dens, horribly tattooed (which
they are), and cannibals.
Their own name for themselves is Uk-um-nom (meaning “in the val-
ley”), and for those on South Eel River speaking the same language, Hich’-
nom (meaning “outside the valley”). Those over on the ocean are called
Uk-hdat-nom (‘on the ocean”). It is possible that the word wkwn was cor-
rupted by the Winttim into yukz, their present name.
Most of them have two names, one given in infancy, the other in later
life; but there is no ceremony in connection with the christening. For
instance, the head-chief of the Yuki, when the Americans became ac-
quainted with them, was Toal-ke-mak’ or Wil-osh’. Their present chief,
salled on the reservation Captain Mike, is Pam-mem’-mi or Oal’-wal-mi.
When a child does not grow well, or otherwise seem to be prosperous and
jucky under one name, another is frequently given to it. This is previous
to the bestowment of the virile name. I have not often in California found
a name bestowed on account of circumstances in the person’s history ; but
it is done among the Yuki, though generally a child takes its father’s or
erandfather’s name. Thus Mil-chdi-mil (I talk) was given to a talkative
child; another was called Wo-nun’-nuh (Blue Head); and another Mai-
el-héat-meh (Big Legs).
The Yuki and the Wailakki are considered of a rather low grade of
intellect, and on the Round Valley Reservation they are the butt of the other
Indians. The common saying regarding these two tribes is that “they do
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 127
=
not want to know anything”. They both prefer against each other the
charge that, in old times, the dead who had no friends were dragged away
into the brush, or hidden in hollow logs, or barely covered with leaves, &e.
Hence the Yuki had few friends among their neighbors, except the Wailakki,
and they had more intercourse with them than with any others, although
they occasionally fought each other with a hearty good-will. They joined
territories about half-way between Round Valley and North Eel River, and
they intermarried, giving rise to a progeny called Yuki-Wailakki. The
Yuki were unrelenting enemies of the Néam-lak-ki (Wintiin), and often
fought them on the summit east of Round Valley. They would climb
trees up there and wait for hours for a Ndéam-lak-ki to come along, when
they would imitate the grouse, the California quail, or some other choice
game-bird, and so lure them within arrow-shot. They were also especially
bitter against the whites, and seized an early opportunity to kill any of
their squaws who went to live with them.
The Yuki have disproportionately large heads, mounted like cannon-
balls on smallish, short bodies, with rather protuberant abdomens. Their
eyes are a trifle under-sized, but keen and restless, and from the execrable
green-wood smudge in which they live in winter they are not unfrequently
swollen and horribly protruding. Their noses are stout, short, and straight,
the nares expanded; and they have heavy shocks of stiff, bristly hair, cut
short, and hence bushy-looking. They are variously complexioned, with-
out any perceptible law, from yellowish-buff to brown and almost black.
They are a truculent, sullen, thievish, revengeful, and every way bad
but brave race. Two of them from whom I attempted to get their numerals
chose to consider me bent on some devilish errand, and they lied to me so
systematically that I did not get a single numeral correct. They have the
most desperate persistence in pursuit of revenge. I was told of an instance
where a tribe seemed to have decreed that a certain offending pioneer and
hunter, formidable with the rifle, must be killed, and more than a dozen of
them who were sent to do the work, were one after another slain by him
before they accomplished their purpose.
On the reservation at the present day the Yuki quarters are on a low
piece of ground which was once occupied as a burying-ground, hence the
128 - THE YUKI.
place is infested with miasmatic exhalations and is unhealthy. The abori-
gines were better sanitarians when they had the control of these matters ;
they built their lodges all around the edge of the valley, on the first little
bench or series of knolls, and not on the plain at all, Their assembly-hall
was of the Sacramento Valley order, dome-shaped, capable of containing
from one to two hundred persons, thatched with grass and covered with earth.
They had the mountain style of lodge, conical-shaped and built of poles,
bark, and puncheons, but often thatched in winter.
Most of the tribes in Northern California use wood almost exclusively
in their lodges, especially on the Coast Range, and near the redwood belt;
but in the coast valleys and on the great plains of the interior, thatch and
earth are used for roofing. As a partial consequence, we find that ophthal-
mia and blindness prevail in the latter region more than in the former, on
account of deficient ventilation.
There have been various estimates of the aboriginal population of
Round Valley. Iam told that Sam. Kelsey, the first American who ever
set foot in the valley, and a man accustomed to Indians, estimated it at
5,000 souls. At this figure there would have been one Indian to every four
acres in the valley, or 160 to the square mile! And yet this is not at all
improbable, because the Indians lived wholly in the valley (except for brief
seasons in the summer), while they had usufructuary possession of a vast
circumjacent area of mast-bearing forest, besides many miles of salmon
streams. On the same reasoning, the above conjectural rate of population
must by no means be applied to the great, naked, arid plains of the Sacra-
mento and San Joaquin.
As the Yuki were so often involved in war, martial matters necessarily
engage a great deal of their attention, and occupy a large part of their con-
versation. Their customs and usages in this direction were quite elabo-
rate. Mrs. Dryden Laycock, one of the pioneer women of Round Valley,
described to me a Yuki war-dance, that she once witnessed, which was a
fantastic and terrible spectacle. The warriors to the number of several
hundred assembled behind a little hill, where they stripped themselves
naked (though their aboriginal costume consisted of little else but breech-
cloths); then they smeared their bodies with pitch or some other sticky
WAR-DANCE—BATTLES. 129
material, and sprinkled on white eagle-down from tip to toe. On their
heads they put bushy plumes and coronals of larger feathers. Then, seizing
their bows and arrows, and slinging their quivers over their shoulders they
rushed over the brow of the hill and down upon the plain in a wild and
disorderly throng, uttering unearthly yells and whoops, leaping, and brand-
ishing their weapons above their heads, and chanting their war-songs.
Before a battle takes place the heralds of the two contending parties
meet on neutral ground and arrange the time and place of the conflict.
The night before going out they dance all night to inflame their courage. If
the warrior possesses a wide elk-skin belt he ties it around him to protect his
vitals, but otherwise he is quite naked. About three hundred arrows to the
warrior is the complement of ammunition for a raid. The Wailakki, on the
other hand, wear shields of tanned elk-skin, which are very thick and tough,
and proof against most arrows. The body of the skin is stiff, and is left
wide enough to shield two or three men. It is worn on the back, so as not
to incommode the warrior in battle, and when he sees an arrow coming he
turns his back to it, and two or three of his friends, if they choose, screen
themselves behind his shield, at the same time shooting over it or around
the sides of it. If the shield-bearer sees an arrow coming so low that it
may strike him in the legs he ducks. They time their march so as to be at
the battle-field at daybreak. If a Yuki stumbles and falls on the march, or
is stung by a yellow-jacket, it is a bad omen; he must go home, or he will
be killed.
During the battle they simply stand up in masses in the open ground or
amid the chaparral, and shoot at each other until they “get enough,” as one
of them expressed it; then they ery quits and go home. If any dead are left
on the field both parties return afterward and carry them away and bury
them (they burn only those whom they do not honor, though this rule is
not invariable); but a pioneer states that he has seen Yuki dead left on the
field, a prey to beasts and birds.
The Yuki say that they never scalped white men, but they take scalps
from Indians.
When the men are absent on a war expedition the women do not
sleep; they dance without ceasing, in a circle, and chant and wave wands
97TC
130 THE YUKI.
of leaves. They say their husbands “ will not get tired if they dance all
the time”. When they return they join in the dance, in a circle within
that of the women. Each woman is behind her own husband, and she wets
him with water, and sprinkles acorn flour over him, to groom and rest him,
and waves a wisp of leaves over him to cool him.
When rain falls in autumn enough to give the earth a thorough soak-
ing, and the angle-worms begin to come to the surface, then the Yuki house-
keeper turns her mind to a good basket of worm-soup. Armed with
her “ woman-stick,” the badge of her sex—which is a pole about six feet
long and one and a half inches thick, sharpened and fire-hardened at one
end—she seeks out a piece of rich, moist soil, and sets to work. Thrusting
the pole into the ground about a foot, she turns it around in every direc-
tion, and so agitates the earth that the worms come to the surface in large
numbers for a radius of two or three feet around. She gathers and carries
them home, and cooks them into a rich and oily soup, an aboriginal vermi-
celli, which is much esteemed by the good wife’s family.
After this lickerish mess is eaten, perhaps she discovers that the youngest
boy’s hair needs cutting, and she brings out the scissors. This consists of
a flat piece of stone and a sharp-edged bone; the stone is held under the
hair, while with the bone she hageles it off as best she can. Then with a
coal of fire she evens off the ends around quite nicely.
Tattooing is done with pitch-pine soot and asharp-pointed bone. After
the designs have been traced on the skin, the soot is rubbed in dry. In
another place the reader will find a series of tattoo patterns employed by
different tribes.
Candidates for the degree of M. D. pass their competitive examination
in the assembly hall—an examination more severe than the contention
between Doctor Cherubino and Doctor Serafino in “the great School of
Salern”. It consists simply of a dance, protracted through day and night
without cessation, until they all fall utterly exhausted except one, who is
then admitted to practice the healing art.
One method of procedure is as follows: The patient is placed on the
ground stark naked, face upward, and two doctors take their stations at
his feet, one directly behind the other. Striking up a crooning chant, they
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THE POISON DOCTOR. 131
commence hopping up and down the unfortunate individual with their legs
astride of him, advancing by infinitesimal jumps all the way up to his
head, then backward to his feet—both keeping close together and hopping
in regular accord.
The “poison doctor” is the most important member of the profession.
The office is hereditary ; a little child is prepared for holding it by being
poisoned and then cured, which in their opinion renders him invulnerable
ever afterward. Of course it will be understood that a great part of these
supposed cases of poisoning are merely the creation of their superstitious
imaginations. They are somewhat homeopathic in their practice ; they
cure poisoning with poison, expel a cold with cold water, ete. They go
by the rule, no cure no pay. Female doctors are not absolutely entitled
to a fee, but they expect and generally receive presents. An instance is
related where a woman volunteered to extract an arrow-point from the body
of a white man who was friendly to the Yuki. Her proposition was ac-
cepted, and at the appointed time she arrived followed by a train of about
thirty female attendants ; she was dressed sumptuously in fringed leggings,
a thread petticoat of milkweed fiber, a beautiful wild-cat skin robe tasseled
with the tails, and a rich otter-skin bandeau, supporting tall eagle feathers,
which were cut in the middle to tremble with her motions. She carried in
her hand a wand with a gay feather in the end of it. She was described
as a woman of a majestic presence, graceful with that unstudied charm
which belongs to the children of the sun. Walking round and round the
patient with her attendants, and chanting, she repeatedly applied her wand
to the wound and simulated great effort in drawing out the arrow-head.
Finally she stooped down and applied her lips to the wound; and after a
little while she ejected a flint from her mouth (previously placed there of
course), and assured the man he would now speedily recover. Vor this
humbug, so transparent, and yet so insinuatingly and elegantly administered,
she expected no less a present than a gayly-figured bandana handkerchief
and five pounds of sugar.
When their own friends fall sick they give them sufficient attention ;
but if an old person has no blood-relations he is generally left to die un-
attended. Public spirit is a thing unknown.
132 THE YUKI.
There is a curious phenomenon among the California Indians called
by the Yuki the ¢-wa-miisp (man-woman), and by the Pomo dass. I have
heard of them elsewhere, but never saw one except in this tribe. There
was a human being in the Yuki village on the reservation who wore a dress
and was tattooed (which no man is), but he had a man’s (querulous) voice,
and an unmistakable though very short and sparse whisker. At my in-
stance the agent exerted his authority and caused this being to be brought
to headquarters and submitted to a medical examination. This revealed
the fact that he was a human male without malformation, but apparently
destitute of desire and virility. He lived with a family, but voluntarily
performed all the menial tasks imposed upon a squaw, and shirked all func-
tions appertaining toa man. Agent Burchard informed me that there were
at one time four of these singular beings on the Round Valley Reservation,
and Charles Eberle, a pioneer, stated that, in his opinion, there were, in an
early day, as high as thirty in the Yuki tribe. Why do they do this?
Quien sabe? When questioned about it the Indians always seek to laugh
the matter away; but when pressed for an explanation they generally reply
that they do it because they wish to do it; or else with that mystifying
circumlocution peculiar to the Indian, they answer with a long rigmarole,
of which the plain interpretation is, that, as a Quaker would say, the spirit
moves them to do it, or, as an Indian would say, that he feels a burning in
his heart which tells him to do it. There are several theories advanced by
the whites to account for this phenomenon: one, that they are forced to
dress like women as a penalty for cowardice in battle; another, that it is
done as a punishment for self-abuse; still another, that they are set apart
as a kind of order of priests or teachers. This last theory has some ap-
pearance of confirmation in the fact that one of these men-women once
went down from Pit River to Sonoma County and “preached” to the Mis-
sion Indians in Spanish. Others among the Yuki have been known to
devote themselves to the instruction of the young by the narration of
legends and moral tales. They have been known to shut themselves up in
the assembly-hall for the space of a month, with a few brief intermissions,
living the life of a hermit, and spending the whole time in rehearsing the
tribal history in a sing-song monotone to all who chose to listen.
BURIAL—ANNIVERSARY DANCE. 133
Nevertheless, I consider the Indian explanation the best, because the
simplest—namely, that all this folly is voluntary; that these men choose
this unnatural life merely to escape from the duties and responsibilities of
manhood; and that the whole phenomenon is to be regarded as another
illustration of that strange capacity which the California Indians develop
for doing morbid and abnormal things.
The Pit River Indians have a regular ceremony for consecrating these
men-women to their chosen life. When an Indian shows a desire to shirk
his manly duties they make him take his position in a circle of fire, then a
bow and a “woman-stick” are offered to him, and he is solemnly enjoined
in the presence of the witnesses assembled to choose which he will, and
ever afterward to abide by his choice.
From the outrageous character of this tribe, white men know very little
about their religious beliefs and ideas. Tai-ké-mo is the name of the
Great Man of the Yuki mythology; he created the world and was himself
the first man in it. But this has probably been ingrafted from the Christian
story. .
The Yuki bury their dead in a sitting posture. They dig a hole six
feet deep sometimes, and at the bottom of it “coyote” under, making a little
recess in which the corpse is deposited.
There is an anniversary dance observed by them called the green-corn
dance, though this manifestly dates only from the period when the Spaniards
taught them to cultivate corn. The performers are of both sexes; the men
being dressed with a breech-cloth and a mantle of the black tail-feathers of
eagles, reaching from under the shoulders down to the thighs, but not en-
cumbering the arms; while the squaws wear their finest fur robes, strings
of shells, ete., and hold gay-colored handkerchiefs in their hands. The men
hop to the music of a chant, a chorister keeping time with a split stick ;
but the squaws, standing behind their respective partners in an outside cir-
cle, simply sway themselves backward and forward, and swing their hand-
kerchiefs in a lackadaisical manner.
Thievery is a virtue with them, as it was with the Spartans, provided
the thief is sly enough not to get caught. Turbulent and choleric, they
often treat their women and children with cruelty, whereas most California
134 THE YUKLI.
Indians are notable for their leniency. They were frequently involved in
deadly feuds among themselves, and were seldom off the war-path in former
times, the pacific and domestic Pomo being their constant victims.
A veteran woodman related to me a small circumstance which illus-
trates the remarkable memory of savages. One time he had occasion to
perform a piece of labor in a certain wood where water was very scarce,
and where he was grievously tormented with thirst. He remembered to
have seen a little spring somewhere in that vicinity, and he considered. it
worth his while under the circumstances to search for it two days, but
without success, when there came along a Yuki woman, to whom he made
mention of the matter. Although she had not been near that place for six
years, and, like himself, probably had never seen the spring but once, yet
without a moment’s hesitation or uncertainty she led him straight to the
spot. Probably there is no other thing in this country, so arid through the
long summer months, of which the Indians have better recollection than of
the whereabouts of springs.
THE YUKI DEVIL.
On the reservation there once lived an Indian who was so thoroughly
bad in every respect that he was generally known by the sobriquet of The
Yuki Devil. He committed all the seven deadly sins and a good many
more, if not every day of his life, at least as often as he could. One time
he wandered off a considerable distance from the reservation, accompanied
by two of his tribal brethren, and the three fell upon and wantonly mur-
dered three squaws. ‘They were pursued by a detachment of the garrison,
overtaken, captured, carried back, manacled hand and foot, and consigned
to the guard-house. In some inexplicable manner the Devil contrived to
break his fetters asunder, and then he tied them on again with twine in
such fashion that when the turnkey came along on a tour of inspection he
perceived nothing amiss. Being taken out for some purpose or other
soon afterward, he seized the opportunity to wrench off his manacles and
escape. He was speedily overtaken and brought down with a bullet, which
wounded him slightly, taken back to the guard-house, heavily ironed, and
cast into a dungeon. Here he feigned death. For four days he never
THE YUKI DEVIL. 135
swallowed a crumb of nutriment, tasted no water, breathed no breath that
could be discovered, and lay with every muscle relaxed like a corpse. To
all human perception he was dead, except that his body did not become
rigid or cold. At last a vessel of water was placed on a table hard by,
information of that fact was casually imparted to him in his native tongue,
all the attendants withdrew, the dungeon relapsed into silence, and he was
secretly watched. After a long time, when profound stillness prevailed,
and when the watchers had begun to believe he was in a trance at least, he
cautiously lifted up his head, gazed stealthily all around him, scrutinized
every cranny and crevice of light, then softly crawled on all-fours to the
table, taking care not to clank his chains the while, took down the pitcher
and drank deep and long. They rushed in upon him, but upon the instant—
so fatuous was the obstinacy of the savage—he dropped as if he had been
shot, and again simulated death. But he was now informed that this sub-
terfuge was quite too thin for any further purposes, and as soon as the gal-
lows could be put in order the executioners entered and told him plainly
that the preparations were fully completed for his taking-off. He made no
sien. Then, half dragging, half carrying the miserable wretch, they con-
duct him forth to the scaffold. All limp and flaccid and nerveless as he is,
they lift him upon the platform; but still he makes not the least motion,
and exhibits no consciousness of all these stern and grim preparations. He
is supported in an upright position between two soldiers, hanging a lifeless
burden on their shoulders; his head is lifted up from his breast where it
droops in heavy helplessness; the new-bought rope, cold and hard and
prickly is coiled about his neck, and the huge knot properly adjusted at
the side; the merciful cap which shuts off these heart-sickening preparations
from the eyes of the faint and shuddering criminal is dispensed with, and
everything is in perfect readiness. The solemn stillness befitting the awful
spectacle about to be enacted falls upon the few spectators; the fatal signal
is given; the drop swiftly descends; the supporting soldiers sink with it, as
if about to vanish into the earth and hide their eyes from the tragedy; with
a dead, dull thud the tightened rope wrenches the savage from their upbear-
ing shoulders into pitiless mid-air, and the Yuki Devil, hanging there with-
out a twitch or a shiver quickly passes from simulated to unequivocal and
unmistakable death.
156 THE YUKI.
THE CHU-MAI’-A.
In the Pomo language chu-mai’-a signifies “stranger”, hence “enemy”.
Some writer has finely remarked that it is a good commentary on our civili-
zation that, in frontier parlance, “stranger” is synonymous with “friend”;
but in the Indian tongues it seems to be generally tantamount to “‘enemy”.
The Chu-mai’-a are simply Yuki; the more southerly bands of them, in
Eden Valley and on the Middle Eel, south of Round Valley, are sometimes
called the Spanish Yuki, because their range was southward and this brought
them in contact with the Spaniards from whom they acquired some words
and customs.
They and the Yuki were ever on the war-path against the peaceful and
inoffensive Pomo, and the brunt of their irruptions generally fell on the
Potter Valley Pomo, because the mountains here interposed slighter obstacles
to their passage. At the head of Potter Valley the watershed is very low and
the pass is easy, so easy that it could readily be traversed by heavy masses
of civilized troops. On the summit, a rod or two from a never-failing spring,
there is to this day a conspicuous cairn, which was heaped up by the Indians
to mark the boundary ; and if a member of either tribe in war-time was
caught beyond it he suffered death. When the Chumaia wished to chal-
lenge the Pomo to battle, they took three little sticks, cut notches around
their ends and in the middle, tied them in a fagot, and deposited the same
on this cairn. If the Pomo took up the gauntlet, they tied a string around the
middle notches and returned the fagot to its place. Then the heralds of
both tribes met together in the neutral territory of the Tatu, a little tribe
living at the foot of the pass, and arranged the time and place of the battle,
which took place accordingly. William Potter, the first settler in Potter
Valley, says they fought with conspicuous bravery, employing bows and
arrows and spears at long range, and spears or casual clubs when they came
to a square stand-up fight in the open field. They frequently surged upon
each other in heavy, irregular masses.
The following almost incredible occurrence was related to me by a
responsible citizen of Potter Valley, and corroborated by another, both of
whose names could be given if necessary :
THE TALE OF BLOODY ROCK. 137
STORY OF BLOODY ROCK.
After the whites became so numerous in the land that the Indians
began to perceive they were destined to be their greatest foes, the Chumaia
abandoned their ancient hostility to the Pomo, and sought to enlist them in
a common crusade against the newly-come and more formidable enemy.
At one time a band of them passed the boundary-line in the defile, came
over to the Pomo of Potter Valley, and with presents and many fair words
and promises of eternal friendship, and with speeches of flaming, barbarian
eloquence and fierce denunciation of the bloody-minded intruders who
sacrificed everything to their sordid hankering for gold, tried to kindle
these ‘‘tame villatic fowl” to the pitch of battle. But the Pomo held their
peace, and after the Chumaia were gone their ways they hastened to the
whites and divulged the matter, telling them all that the Chumaia were
hoping and plotting. So the Americans resolved to nip the sprouting mis-
chief m the bud, and fitting out a company of choice fighters went over
on Kel River, feil upon the Chumaia, and hunted them over mountains
and through canons with sore destruction. The battle everywhere went
against the savages, though they fought heroically, falling back from vil-
lage to village, from gloomy gorge to gorge, disputing all the soil with
their traditional valor, and sealing with ruddy drops of blood the pos-
sessory title-deeds to it they had received from nature.
But of course they could not stand against the scientific weapons,
the fierce and unresting energy, and the dauntless bravery of the whites,
and with sad and bitter hearts they saw themselves falling one by one,
by dozens, by scores, fast going out of existence, all their bravest drop-
ping around them. The smoke of burning villages and forests black-
ened the sky at noon-day, and at night the flames snapped their yellow
tongues in the face of the moon, while the wails of dying women and
helpless babes, brained against a: tree, burdened the air.
At last a band of thirty or forty—that was as near the number as
my informant could state—became separated from their comrades, and
found themselves fiercely pursued. Hemmed in on one side, headed off
on another, half-crazed by sleepless nights and days of terror, the fleeing
138 THE YUKI.
savages did a thing which was little short of madness. They escaped up
what is now called Bloody Rock, an isolated bowlder standing grandly
out scores of feet on the face of the mountain, and only accessible by a
rugged, narrow cleft in the rear, which one man could defend against a
nation. Once mounted upon the summit the savages discovered they had
committed a deplorable mistake and must prepare for death, since the rifles
in the hands of the Californians could knock them off in detail. A truce
was proclaimed by the whites, and a parley was called. Some one able
to confer with the Indians advanced to the foot of the majestic rock, and
told them they were wholly in the power of their pursuers, and that it was
worse than useless to resist. He proffered them their choice of three alterna-
tives: Either to continue to fight, and be picked off one after another,
to continue the truce and perish from hunger, or to lock hands and leap down
from the bowlder. The Indians were not long in choosing; they did not
falter, or cry out, or whimper. They resolved to die like men. After con-
sulting a little while they replied that they would lock hands and leap down
from the rock.
A little time was granted them wherein to make themselves ready.
They advanced in a line to the brow of the mighty bowlder, joined their
hands together, then commenced chanting their death-song, and the hoarse,
deathly rattle floated far down to the ears of the waiting listeners. or the
last time they were looking upon: their beloved valley of Eel River which
lay far beneath them in the lilac distance, and upon those golden, oat-coy-
ered and oak-dappled hills, where they had chased the deer in happy days
forever gone. For the last time they beheld the sweet light of the sun
shine down on the beautiful world, and for the last time the wail of his hap-
less children ascended up to the ear of the Great One in heaven. As they
ceased, and the weird, unearthly tones of the dirge were heard no more,
there fell upon the little band of whites a breathless silence, for even the
stout hearts of those hardy pioneers were appalled at the thing which was
about to be done. The Indians hesitated only a moment. With one sharp
ery of strong and grim human suffering—of the last bitter agony—which
rang out strangely and sadly wild over the echoing mountains, they leaped
down to their death.
CHAPTER XV.
THE TA-TU.
The Té-tu are known in their own language as Hiichnom and on the
reservation as ‘‘Redwoods”; the title here given them is that applied to
them by the Pomo of Potter Valley. The Hichnom live along South Kel
River, but that part of them included in the above name live in the extreme
upper end of Potter Valley. They constitute a mere village, a little Indian
Monaco, wedged in between two powerful families, the Yuki and the Pomo,
yet allowed to retain their neutrality and independence most of the time.
As I once before intimated, the Pomo were a harmless and inoffensive
race, yet they had the fondness of most savages for martial trophies and
displays, though lacking the courage to procure them. So they sometimes
employed the Hichnom to make war for them against the Yuki and bring
them scalps, for which they paid at the rate of about 520 a scalp. And
frightful scalps they took! They skinned the whole bust, including the
shoulders, but omitted from the scalp that part of the face within a triangle,
whose angles are the root of the nose and the extremities of the lower jaw-
bone. This is a mercenary transaction quite germane to the character of
the Northern California Indians.
The Tatu wigwams do not differ essentially from-those of the vicinal
tribes; they are constructed of stout willow wicker-work, dome-shaped,
o, with
and thatched with grass. Sometimes they are very large and oblong,
sleeping-room for thirty or forty persons. The assembly-hall is made with
heavier timbers to support the thick layer of earth necessary to render it
air-tight. Having only very contracted holes at the side for ingress and
egress, these wigwams maintain within a most execrable and everlasting
acrid smudge which makes bloodshot and protruding eyes horribly common
+
anong the aged.
140 THE TATU.
At the head of Potter Valley there is a singular knoll of red earth
which the Tatu believe to have furnished the material for the creation of the
original coyote-man. They mix this red earth into their acorn bread, and
employ it for painting their bodies on divers mystic occasions. I supposed
at first that the mixing of this red earth in their bread was a ceremonial per-
formance, but seeing it afterward done by other tribes I came to the con-
clusion that the Indians spoke truthfully in saying that they did it merely
to make the bread sweet, and make it go further. They have quarried out
immense quantities of it from the knoll for these purposes. I visited it
myself, and found that my worthy host spoke truly in saying that they have .
taken out ‘hundreds of tons”. At any rate, I will venture the suggestion
that they must have been living in the valley a thousand years, in order to
have quarried out this quantity of earth for yeast and cosmetics alone.
They are remarkable for their timidity. My host, Mr. Carner, related
how a full-grown, vigorous Tatu in his employ was once frightened to
death in broad daylight by a belligerent turkey-cock. The poor fellow had
never seen that species of fowl before, when one day as he was walking
through the yard the gobbler, being greatly blown out and enlarged in
appearance, made a furious dash at him, and so frighte.ed him that he
straightway took to his bed and expired in two days. Another one of the
same tribe unwittingly trod in a bear-trap when hunting one day with a
companion, whereupon he dropped all in a heap upon the ground, helpless
and lifeless, with unspeakable terror, and died in his tracks in half an hour,
though a subsequent examination revealed the fact that the steel trap had
inflicted no mortal injury on him, and that he undoubtedly perished from
fright. His comrade, instead of unclamping the trap, fled for his dear life,
believing it was the devil they had encountered.
Mr. Carner, himself a Christian who had labored zealously for their
conversion, said he had often seen them engage in wordy quarrels, bicker-
ing, and jangling, and jabbering strange, voluble oaths, until almost the
whole village was involved, and until his own patience was entirely gone,
but never once advance to blows. His Saxon blood once got the better of
his religion, his indignation waxed hot, and he offered them clubs, and told
them either to fight or be silent, but they did neither the one nor the other.
7 i i
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Figure 13.—Hiich’-nom Tattooing.
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SECRET SOCIETY—MEDICAL PRACTICE. 141
A secret society exists among the Tatu something similar to that
described in the Pomo chapter, the members of which, in conversation with
their white acquaintances, make no secret of the fact that it is designed
simply to keep the women in due subjection. To accomplish this highly
laudable purpose they profess to be able to hold communication with the
devil. The Pdm Pomo also do this in the secrecy of the lodge, but the
Tatu go further; they boldly usher him forth into the outer world, and
reveal his corporeal presence to the terrified squaws. In the private lodge
occupied by the society, which is the assembly-hall, they prepare one of
their number to personate that terrific being. First, they strip him naked,
and paint his body with alternate stripes of red and black, spirally, from
head to foot. Then they place on his head a chaplet of green leaves, and
in his hand a sprig of poison-oak. With the leaves of the chaplet drooping
over his face to prevent the squaws from recognizing him, all naked and
hideously painted as he is, he rushes forth with pranks, and lively capers,
and dreadful whoops, while the assembly-hall he has. just left resounds
with diabolical yells. Dipping his wisp of poison-oak in water he sprinkles
it upon the faces of the squaws as he gambols and pirouettes around them,
whereat they scream with uncontrollable terror, fall prostrate upon the
earth, and hide their faces.
Probably the water from the poison-oak blisters their faces slightly,
and as these things are commonly done in the evening when they cannot
perceive the poison-oak, the victimized squaws are confirmed in their belief
of his satanic attributes. They are forbidden to discuss the matter among
themselves, for if one ever sees a spook and mentions it he dies! It is won-
derful that these thin tricks can be maintained for years and centuries per-
haps, unchanged until they are worn down threadbare, and still continue
to work out terror and fainting of heart to the women as before. Yet the
savages are not Pyrrhonists, and these simple souls least of all.
Many varieties of medical practice are in vogue. For instance, Tep,
a great shamin of the Tatu, will sit for hours beside a patient, chanting in
that interminable, monotonous way of the Indians, and beating his knee
with a bunch of rabbit-bladders filled with pebbles, ending finally with a
142 THE TATU.
grand flourish of the bladders in the air, and a whirring chatter of the voice,
to exorcise the evil spirit.
Another and more sensible mode is as follows: A hole is dug in the
ground large enough to admit the sick person, partly filled with stones
painted with red and black stripes; then a fire is kindled in it and continued
until the ground is thoroughly heated. The fire and stones are then
removed, and a quantity of rushes with their joints painted with the sacred
red earth is thrown in, followed by a wisp of damp hay or grass, for the
purpose of creating a steam. First, the practitioner himself lies down on
the hay and wallows his breast and back in it, probably to round it into
shape; then the patient is laid on it, thickly covered with hay or blankets,
and allowed to perspire freely.
Still another method is, to place the patient on his back, naked, stretch
out his arms and legs wide asunder, plant four springy twigs in the ground
at a distance, bend them over, and tie each to a hand or foot with a string.
Then the physician, spirally painted like the devil above described, ap-
proaches with a coal of fire on a fragment of bark, and burns the strings in
two, allowing the twigs to spring up one after another, whereupon the
patient screams. The notion appears to be that the evil spirits lurking in
the several limbs are somehow twitched out or burned.
Mr. Carner described to me an interesting operation which he once
witnessed, whereby a squaw whose nervous system had received a severe
shock from fright was restored by what might be likened to the Swedish
movement-cure. Dr. Tep, the renowned Tatu shaman, officiated on the
occasion, and it seems to have been his exceptional good sense and inge-
nuity which devised the remedy. The woman had been frightened simply
by a pebble falling into the brook where she was drinking; but, however
trivial was the producing cause, there could be no doubt as to the genuine-
ness and intensity of her suffering. The disease appeared to have assumed,
finally, the form of an inflammatory rheumatism, and had baffled the skill
of all their physicians.
At last Dr. Tep assembled nearly the whole village together, placed
the woman in the center on the ground, caused the company to lock hands
in a cirele, and then they commenced a dance around her, accompanied by
Figure 14.—Huch’-nom Tattooing.
Figure 15.—Hiuch’-nom Tattooing.
SPOOKS AND SNAKES. 143
a chant. The singing was slow and mournful at first, corresponding to the
movement of the dance, and the sick woman gave no response to it except
her continual groaning and cry of ‘‘ahwe! ahwe!” The tone of the chant-
ing was full of sadness and commiseration, as if the dancers were deeply
moved with pity for the sufferer, but slowly it quickened, and the dance
gradually became more lively. Still she seemed not to be aware of their
presence, and only continued to cry out piteously, ‘ahwe! ahwe!” Faster
and faster droned the chant, and still more gaily capered the dance, first
round one way, then the other, while animation began to beam on their
countenances. At last the woman seemed to be awakening to the conta-
gious enthusiasm. She could not resist the old familiar frenzy of the dithy-
rambie dance. Still swifter and swifter circled the dancers. Her eyes
began to brighten. Strain now followed strain, instead of the first monotony.
She was plainly catching the infection. That wild and wizard verve of sav-
age fanatics was taking possession of her senses. Her wailing “ ahwe /
ahwe !” began to follow the ever-quickening time of the chant. But still
she was unable to rise. Then the swift circle of dancers swerved suddenly
in their mad enthusiasm, swooped upon her with shouts, she was caught up
in strong arms, and half-carried, half-dragged around the ring, while her
“ahwe! ahwe!” gradually changed into the general voice of the chanting,
and melted out of hearing, and step by step, feebly at first, but carried
irresistibly away at last by the rapture of the hour, she joined in the dizzy
whirl until perspiration had done its perfect work.
Mr. Carner added that two or three days afterward he saw the woman
again, and she was perfectly cured.
The Tatu observe the acorn dance or thanksgiving dance, which is
common among the Pomo, and under one name or another common in all
these parts. Both sexes participate in it, the squaws having as their prin-
cipal ornament plumes of tall feathers in their hair, while the Indians are
decorated with cowls or garlands of white owl’s down, and mantles of eagles’,
buzzards’, or hawks’ tail feathers. This white garland of down is a feature
peculiar to the Yuki and Wailakki, but the mantle is universal in this
region. ‘The extensive use of feathers made by the Eel and Russian River
tribes is attributalle to their fetichism, as they believe that various birds,
144 THE TATU.
especially the great white owl, are devils, and their feathers are worn as a
propitiation,
This dance is performed in the evening, soon after the acorns are ripe,
outdoors, and within a cirele of fires. .A chorister beats time on his
hand with a split stick, and sometimes a trumpeter blows a monotonous
blast on a whistle fashioned from the leg-bone of some animal. At the
proper time the chief delivers an oration, of which the one great burden is
an exhortation to the squaws to lead virtuous and industrious lives.
Transmigration of souls is an article of their credo; that is, they
believe that bad Indians’ spirits take up their abode in various animals,
especially the screech-owl and the coyote, while the souls of the good are
wafted up to heaven in the smoke of the funeral pyre. To one who has
ever heard the eldritch and blood-curdling midnight gibbering of the screech-
owl, it is little wonder that the California Indians so generally assign to him
the souls of the ungodly dead,.or even those of the hobgoblins ; but inas-
much as the coyote was the original of the human kind, it is something
exceptional that he should afterward become the embodiment of the wicked
only. Herein is a crude idea of Italic progression: firsi, coyote; second,
man; third, the good become beatific in heaven, and the bad return to
coyotes.
Thunder, according to the Tatu, is caused by the flight of some Indian’s
many-winged spirit up to heaven, flapping its pinions loudly as it ascends.
Snakes are an object of superstitious belief and of unfeigned terror,
inasmuch as they consider them to be vivified by the souls of the impious
dead, dispatched as special emissaries of the devil to work them evil. They
have a legend of one that lived on Mill Creek, which was a hundred feet
long, with a single horn on its forehead, and which it required over a
hundred Indians to destroy. Another one they tell of was so long that
it reached around a mountain, bit its own tail, and died, and whosoever
crosses the line of its bones to this day straightway gives up the ghost.
They also relate a legend of the coyote which is something different
from that of the Pomo.
LEGEND OF THE COYOTE.
Many hundred snows ago while mankind were yet in the form and
Accra St O76. (Hiichinem)
Sune by Vkasuka, a womare.
m
Ya-a he-le ya-no pee yo-a he-le ya-no restos
=
Yo-a he-le ya-no Hi-lo li-mo he-le ya-lo hi-lo
Sore of the cHuchnom
Suna by old Kekhhoal (blind).
dfizhi-o he-he-o hi-hi-o he-he-o -o he-o, -matinne
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Figure 16.—Hich’nom Ta ttooi ng.
Figure 17.—Huch’nom Tattooi Dg.
BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 145
flesh of the coyote, there dwelt in Eel River Valley a famous coyote with
_his two sons. In those days there came a terrible drought in that region,
which was followed by a plague of grasshoppers, and this by a fire which
destroyed every living thing on the face of the earth except the grasshop-
pers. Then the coyote and his two sons eat very many grasshoppers, for that
all flesh and all grass were consumed by the fire in the mountains; and they
had thirst, and there was no water in all that land; but in Clear Lake there
was water. So they started toward Clear Lake, these three coyotes, and on
the mountain pass, as you go over into Potter Valley, one of the sons died
of thirst, and his father buried him and heaped over him a cairn of stones.
Then they went on to the lower end of that valley, and: as they passed
over the mountain, going to Clear Lake the other son died, and him like-
wise the father buried and heaped stones above him. After that he jour-
neyed on alone to Clear Lake and came into it and drank of the waters,
so much as never was drunk before, until he drained the lake dry. Then
he lay down and fell into a deep sleep. As he slept there came up a man
out of the south country and pricked him with his spear, so that the waters
flowed forth from him and returned into the lake until it was full again,
and the grasshoppers which he had eaten became fishes in the water, and
thus the lake was filled with them.
As to the legends of the huge snakes above mentioned, it is possible
that they refer to some lingering member of a species of gigantic saurian
now extinct. Ifso, the Indians must have been here many hundreds of
years.
The Tatu (Hiichnom) bury the dead with their heads to the north and
their faces to the east, but not invariably.
10 TC
CHAPTER XVI.
THE POMO.
Under this name are included a great number of tribes or little bands—
sometimes one in a valley, sometimes more—clustered in the region where
the head-waters of the Eel and Russian Rivers interlace, along the latter and
around the estuaries of the coast. Below Calpello they do not call themselves
Pomo, but their languages include them in this large family. There are
many dialectic variations as one goes along. An Indian may start from
Potter Valley, which may be considered the nucleus and starting-point of
the family, and go over a low range of mountains, ten miles or so, and
find himself greatly at fault in attempting to converse; ten miles farther,
and he would find himself still more at sea, so rapidly does the language
shade away from valley to valley, from dialect to dialect. Yet the vocabu-
laries printed in the appendix show that they spring from one language,
as do English and Italian from Sanskrit; and in fact any Indian living on
Russian River can learn to speak any dialect spoken anywhere along its
banks much sooner than an American can learn to speak Italian, although,
in proportion to his whole vocabulary, he may have to learn outright more
words of a totally different root than the American would.
In disposition the Pomo are much different from the Yuki and their
congeners, being simple, friendly, peaceable, and inoffensive. They are
also much less cunning and avaricious, and less quickly imitative of the
whites than the lively tribes on the Klamath, to whom they are inferior in
intellect. As to their physique, there prevails on Russian River essentially
the same type as that seen in the Sacramento Valley, which will be described
elsewhere.
Like all California tribes, they have a certain conception of a Supreme
Being, whom they call the Great Man or the Great Chief; but I am satis-
146
KAI POMO AND KASTEL POMO. 147
fied that this is chiefly a modern graft on the stock of their mythology.
The coyote exercised supreme functions in the genesis of all things. It is
singular how great is the admiration of the California Indians for this tricksy
and dishonest beast. He was not only the progenitor, but he has been the
constant benefactor of mankind.
Nearly all their acts of worship are held in honor of beasts, reptiles,
or birds. One of the tribes on the lower reaches of Russian River is named
for a snake, but on the upper waters nearly all the tribal names are formed
from some characteristic or prominent object of the valley where they
dwell. They all believe too that their coyote ancestors were molded
directly from the soil; hence their family designation ‘“‘ Pomo,” though it
now signifies ‘‘people”, originally, I think, meant “‘earth” or “‘earth-people”,
being evidently related to the Wintiin pum, paum, which denotes “earth”.
As the Pomo are less warlike, less cunning and more simple-hearted
than the northern tribes, so they are more devoted to amusement. The
tribes hitherto described engage with passionate eagerness in gambling, and
have certain austere and solemn dances of religion; but the Pomo add to
these a kind of ball-playing, and down about Healdsburg they also have a
curious sort of pantomime or rude theatrical performance.
The broadest and most obvious division of the Pomo family is into Hel
River and Russian River Pomo. There are two tribes on Eel River,
‘between it and South Fork, who call themselves Pomo (Kas’-tel Po-mo and
Kai Po-mo), though it is an assumed name, because they belong to the
Wailakki family, and prefer their company. It was mentioned heretofore
that the Wailakki were rather despised by their neighbors; hence when
any member of these two tribes intermarried with a true Pomo, he or she
went to live with that nation and learned their language; hence also the
fact that nearly every man of the Kai Pomo understands both Pomo and
Wailakki. Nevertheless, because of their name and their claims, I have
included them here.
THE KAS'-TEL PO-MO.
Concerning both this tribe and the next I know very little, for in the
ferocious and destructive wars which their audacity badgered the whites
into waging upon them, both they and many of the old pioneers went down
148 THE POMO.
together. Men now living on South Fork could impart to me little save
bald stories of butchery and bloody reprisal. The Kastel Pomo dwelt
between the forks of the river, extending as far south as Big Chamise and
Blue Rock, and as above mentioned spoke the Wailakki language. They
tattooed the face and nose very much in the fashion of that people and the
Yuki. Mr. Burleigh related to me a curious instance which he once saw
among them of tattooing by a brave, which is exceedingly rare. An old
warrior whom he once found upon the battle-field on South Fork was tat-
tooed all over his breast and arms, and on the under side of one arm was
a very correct and well-executed picture of a sea-otter, with its bushy tail.
Women of this and other tribes of the Coast Range frequently tattoo a
rude representation of a tree or other object, covering nearly the whole
abdomen and breast.
Their lodges, implements, etc., require no description, being made in
the common Eel River fashion with inconsiderable variations. They for-
merly burned their dead, wherein they showed that they were Pomo; but
what of them now remain have generally adopted the civilized custom,
except when one dies at such a distance that the body cannot readily be
conveyed home, when they reduce it to ashes for convenience in transporta-
tion. They generally desire, like the Chinese, to be buried in the ancestral
soil of their tribe. :o
THE KAI PO-MO.
The Kai Po-mo (Valley tribe or People) dwell on the extreme head-
waters of the South Fork, ranging eastward to Eel River, westward to the
ocean, and northward to the territory of the Kastel Pomo. With these latter
they were ever jangling, and from the manner in which Indian trails are
constructed, their wars generally raged on the hill-tops. On the vast wind-
swept and almost naked hog-back between the two forks of Kel River,
some thirty miles or more north of Cahto, looming largely up from the
broad, grassy back of the mountain, is the majestic, rugged, isolated bowlder
called Blue Rock. A few miles still farther north there is an enormous
section of this mountain-chain almost entirely covered with evergreen bush,
whence its name Big Chamise. Between these two points, and more espe-
cially about the base of Blue Rock, is one of the most famous ancient bat-
Religious Song of the Zallo—Kai-Lome-
Dancing Song ve the Fallo-Aai-Lome.
Lotter Valley.
a 141 ES aa 6 a eee
7 FS Va 7 es Ee eet ee t-N—-N—
A-nu-se anu-sa awe hilli oe hopiljortli wela haryu ha-a-a.
=
PREDOMINANCE OF FEMALES. 149
tle-grounds in California, where Indian blood has been poured out like
water, and where the ground is yet strewn with flint arrow-heads and spear-
points. But the bones of the warriors slain on this fatal field are no longer
visible, having been doubtless consumed on the funeral pyre and sacredly
carried home for interment.
The Kai Pomo are the same in all respects as the Kastel Pomo, which
is to say, about the same as the Wailakki. One matter is notable among
these Eel River Indians—I observed it more especially among the Kai
Pomo—and that is the extreme youthfulness of both sexes when they arrive
at the age of puberty. In the warm and sheltered valley of South Fork
(however bleak the naked mountain-tops may be in winter), it was a thing
not at all uncommon, in the days of the Indians’ prosperity, to see a woman
become a mother at twelve or fourteen. An instance was related to me
where a girl had borne her firstborn at ten, as nearly as her years could be
ascertained, her husband, a white man, being then sixty-odd. For this
reason, or some other, the half-breeds on Kel River are generally sickly,
puny, short-lived, and slightly esteemed by the fathers, who not unfre-
quently bestow them as presents on any one willing to burden himself with
their nurture.
There is another noteworthy phenomenon in regard to California half-
breeds which I have observed, and which, when mentioned to others they
have seldom failed to corroborate, and that is the girls generally predomi-
nate. Often I have seen whole families of half-breed girls, but never one
composed entirely of boys, and seldom one wherein they were- more
numerous.
I wish to call attention here to what may be denominated the peculiar
stratification of the tribes in this vicinity. On the northern rivers, which
debouch into the ocean nearly at right angles, each tribe occupies a certain
length of the stream on both sides; but on Eel River, South Fork, and
Van Dusen’s Fork, which flow almost parallel with the coast, every tribe
owns only one bank of a river, unless it chances to dwell between two
waters. It should seem that the influence of the ocean has distributed the
. Indians in certain parallel climatic belts, those living nearest the coast
being darker, more obese, more squat in stature, and more fetichistic; while,
150 THE POMO.
as you go toward the interior, both the physique and the intelligence grad-
ually improve. This kind of stratification does not obtain on Russian
River, but fetichism increases as you ¢o down approaching the ocean.
? Do t=]
THE KA-TO PO-MO.
We now commence with the true Pomo, The Ka-to Pomo (Lake People)
were so called from a little lake which formerly existed in the valley now
known by their name (Cahto). They do not speak Pomo entirely pure,
but employ a mixture of that and Wailakki. Like the Kai Pomo, their
northern neighbors, they forbid their squaws from studying languages—
which is about the only accomplishment possible to them save that of danc-
ing—principally, it is believed, in order to prevent them from gadding
about and forming acquaintances in neighboring valleys, for there is small
virtue among the unmarried of either sex. But the men pay considerable
attention to linguistic studies, and there is seldom one who cannot speak
most of the Pomo dialects within a day’s journey of his ancestral valley.
The chiefs especially devote no little care to the training of their sons as
polyglot diplomatists ; and Robert White affirms that they frequently send
them to reside several months with the chiefs of contiguous valleys to ac-
quire the dialects there in vogue.
They construct lodges in the Russian River manner, and do not differ-
entiate their costumes or utensils to any important extent. In appetite they
are not at all epicurean, and in the range of their comestibles they are quite
cosmopolitan, not objecting even to horse-steak, which they accept without
instituting any squeamish inquiries as to the manner in which it departed
this life. They consume tar-weed seed, wild oats, California chestnuts,
acorns, various kinds of roots, ground-squirrels and moles, rabbits, buckeyes,
kelp, yellow-pine bark (in a pinch), clams, salmon, different sorts of ber-
ries, ete. Buckeyes are poison, but they extract the toxieal principle from
them by steaming them two or three days underground. They first excavate
a large hole, pack it water-tight around the sides, burn a fire therein for
some space of time, then put in the buckeyes, together with water and
heated stones, and cover the whole with a layer of earth. When they go
over to the ocean to fish and dig clams they collect quantities of kelp and’
TENNIS—A “CALL” TO PRACTICE MEDICINE. 151
chew the same. It is as tough as whitleather, and a young fellow with
good teeth will masticate a piece of ita whole day. Kelp tastes a little
like a spoiled pickle, and the Indians relish it for its salty quality, and
probably also extract some small nutriment of juice therefrom.
There is a game of tennis played by the Pomo of which I have heard
nothing among the northern tribes. A ball is rounded out of an oak-knot
about as large as those generally used by school-boys, and it is propelled
by a racket which is constructed of a long, slender stick, bent double and
bound together, leaving a circular hoop at the extremity, across which is
woven a coarse meshwork of strings. Such an implement is not strong
enough for batting the ball, neither do they bat it, but simply shove or
thrust it along on the ground.
The game is played in the following manner: They first separate them-
selves into two equal parties, and each party contributes an equal amount
to a stake to be played for, as they seldom consider it worth while to play
without betting. Then they select an open space of ground, and establish
two parallel base-lines a certain number of paces apart, with a starting-line
between, equidistant from both. Two champions, one for each party, stand
on opposite sides of the starting-point with their rackets, a squaw tosses the
ball into the air, and as it descends the two champions strike at it, and one
or the other gets the advantage, hurling it toward his antagonist’s base-line.
Then there ensues a universal rush, pell-mell, higgledy-piggledy, men and
squaws crushing and bumping—for the squaws participate equally with the
sterner sex—each party striving to propel the ball across the enemy’s base-
line.
They enjoy this sport immensely, laugh and vociferate until they are
“out of all whooping”; some tumble down and get their heads batted, and
much diversion is created, for they are very good-natured and free from
jangling in their amusements. One party must drive the ball a certain num-
ber of times over the other’s base-line before the game is concluded, and
this not unfrequently occupies them a half-day or more, during which they
expend more strenuous endeavor than they would ina day of honest labor in
a squash-field.
Schoolcraft says in his ‘““Onedta” that the chiefs and graver men of the
yt
152 THE POMO.
tribes in the West, however much they encourage the younger men in ball- -
playing, do not lend their countenance to games of hazard. This is not
true of the California Indians, for here old and young engage with infat-
uation and recklessness in all games where betting is involved, though,
of course, the very decrepit cannot personally participate in the rude hustle
of ball-playing. The aged and middle-aged; squaws, men, and half-grown
children stake on this, as well as on true games of hazard, all they possess—
clothing, baskets, beads, fancy bows and arrows, ete.
There is another fashion of gambling, with little sticks or bones rolled
in pellets of grass, which is universal throughout Northern California ; but
as I had an excellent opportunity of observing a great game of it elsewhere
among the Pomo it will be described there.
Among the upper tribes, especially on the Klamath, many women are
honored as shamins and prophetesses; but here none at all are admitted
to the medical profession. It is only the masculine sex who receive a “call”;
there are none but braves whom “the spirit moves”, for it is thus that the
elect are assured of their divine mission to undertake the healing of men.
The methods of practice vary with the varying hour, every physician
being governed in his therapeutics by the inspiration of the spirit of the
moment; and if he fails in effecting a cure, the obloquy of the failure
recurs upon his familiar spirit. For instance, a shamin will stretch his
patient out by a fire, and walk patiently all the livelong day around the fire,
chanting to exorcise the demon that is in him. Thus the modi operandi are
as numerous as the whimseys of this mysterious medical spirit. Besides
these, they have in their pharmacopceia divers roots, poultices, and decoc-
tions, and often scarify their breasts with flint. When the patient delays
dying, if he is old and burdensome he is generally carried forth and cast into
the forest to die alone and unattended ; but the mere removal from the loath-
some smudge and stench of the lodge, and the exposure to the clean, sweet
air of heaven sometimes bring him round, and he returns smiling to his
friends who are nowise pleased.
Formerly all the dead were disposed of by incremation, but in later
times under the influence of the white men a mixed custom prevails. An
intelligent Indian told me that, in case of burial, the corpse was always
AN OGRE—ISLES OF THE BLESSED. 153
placed with the head pointing southward. Most of the Indians thus far men-
tioned believe the Happy Land is in the west or southwest, but their notions
are evidently confused. A young man who was born and bred among the
Pomo told me that they nowadays burn only those killed or hanged by
the whites, and bury the others. I know not if there is any special signifi-
cance in their discrimination. .
Robert White affirms that he has frequently seen an aged Indian or
woman, living in hourly expectation of his demise, go dig his own burial-
place, and then repair thither daily for months together, and eat his poor
repast sitting in the mouth of his grave. The same strange, morbid idiosyn-
crasy prevails among the Wintiin, in the Sacramento Valley.
Before the irruption of the white men had reduced them to their present
abject misery, the Kato Pomo treated their parents with a certain considera-
tion, that is, they would always divide the last morsel of dried salmon with
genuine savage thriftlessness; but as for any active, nurturing tenderness,
it did not exist, or only véty seldom. They were only too glad to shufile
off their shoulders the burden of their maintenance. On the other hand
they gave their children unlimited free play. Men who have lived familiarly
amidst them for years tell me they never yet have seen an Indian parent
chastise his offspring, or correct them any otherwise than with berating words
in a frenzy of passion, which also is extremely seldom.
They have an absurd habit of hospitality, which reminds one of the
Bedouin Arabs. Let a perfect stranger enter a wigwam and offer the lodge-
father a string of beads for any object that takes his fancy—merely point-
ing to it, but uttering no word—and the owner holds himself bound in savage
honor to make the exchange, whether it is a fair one or not. The next day
he may thrust the stranger through with his spear, or crush his forehead with
a pebble from his sling, and the bystanders will look upon it as only the
rectification of a bad bargain.
It is wonderful how these Indians have all the forest and plain mapped
out on the tablet of their memory. There is scarcely a bowlder, gulch,
prominent tree, spring, knoll, glade, clump of bushes, cave, or bit of prairie
within a radius of ten miles which is not perfectly familiar to the savage,
even if it does not bear its own distinctive name. Yet he cannot give any
154 THE POMO. . ,
satisfactory description of this forest or this plain to a white man in English,
or even to a brother Indian in his vernacular. He prefers to go and lead
you to the spot, and if he once can be persuaded to attempt this he will not
fail, he will conduct you to the desired place with the absolute infallibility
of the sun’s rays in finding out the hidden corners of the earth.
There is occasionally a Pomo who is named for some animal, snake,
or bird, in accordance with some whim, or fancied resemblance in the
child’s actions or babyish pipings, as chi-kok’-a-we (quail), mi-sal’-la
(snake), ete.
The Kato Pomo believe in a terrible and fearful ogre called Shil’-la-ba
Shil’-toats. He is described as being of gigantic stature, wearing a high,
sugar-loaf head-dress, clothed in hideous tatters, striding over a mountain
or valley at a step, and like the Scandinavian Trolls, a cannibal, having an
appreciative appetite for small boys. He is very useful to the Indian in the
regulation and administration of his household affairs, and especially in the
“taming of a shrew”, as he has only to rush®into the wigwam with his
eyes judiciously dilated, and his hair somewhat toused, and vociferate,
“Shillaba Shiltoats! Shillaba Shiltoats!” when his squaw will scream with
terror, fall flat upon.the ground, cover her face with her hands—for that
squaw dies who ever looks upon this ogre—and she will remain very tract-
able for several days thereafter. The children will also be profoundly
impressed.
_ This and the other branches of the Pomo living nearest the ocean have
a conception of a sort of Hedonic heaven, which is quite characteristic.
They believe that in some far, sunny island of the Pacifie—an island of fade-
less verdure ; of cool and shining trees, looped with clinging vines; of bub-
bling fountains; of flowery and fragrant savannas, rimmed with lilae shad-
ows, where the purple and wine-stained waves shiver in a spume of gold
across the reefs, shot through and through by the level sunbeams of the
morning—they will dwell forever in an atmosphere like that around the
Castle of Indolence ; for the deer and the antelope will joyously come and
offer themselves for food, and the red-fleshed salmon will affectionately rub
their sides against them, and softly wriggle into their reluctant hands. It
is not by any means a place like the Happy Hunting Grounds of the lordly
POMO BANDS. 155
and eagle-eyed Dakotas, where they are ‘“ drinking delight of battle” with
their peers, or running in the noble frenzy of the chase; but a soft and a
forgetting land, a sweet, oblivious sleep, awaking only to feast and then to
sleep again.
As for the bad Indians, they will be obliged to content themselves
with a palingenesis in the bodies of grizzly bears, cougars, snakes, ete.
Among other noted ceremonials the Kato Pomo observe an autumnal
acorn dance in which the performers wear the mantles and head-dresses of
eagles’ or buzzards’ tail-feathers customary in this region, and which appears
to be much like the thanksgiving dance of the Humboldt Bay Indians, being
accompanied, like that, by the oration of plenty. It is not strictly an anni-
versary dance, but rather a “movable festival” in the Indian fasti dies, cele-
brated when the crop of acorns has proven generous, but otherwise omitted.
Besides the Kato Pomo, there are many other little bands in divers
valleys, of whom the most important are here mentioned. In Potter Valley,
taken as a whole, are the Bal-l6 Kai Pé-mo (Oat Valley People); in Sher-
wood Valley, the Ku-lé Kai Pé-mo (hula is the name of a kind of fruit,
like little pumpkins, growing on water, as the Indians describe it); in Red-
wood Cation, the Da-pi-shil Pé-mo (dapishail means “high sun”; that is,
a cold place, because of the depth of the canon); at Calpello, the Choam
Cha-di-la Pé-mo (Pitch Pine People); at Ukiah City, the Yo-kai’-a Pé-mo
(Lower Valley People); in Coyote Valley, the Shé-do Kai Pé-mo; on
the coast, and along Usal Creek, the Yu-sil Pé-mo or Kam/-a-lel Pé-mo
(Ocean People); at Little Lake, the Mi-toam’ Kai Pé-mo (Wooded Valley
People); on the Rio Grande, or Big River, the Bul’-dam Pé-mo. At Clear
Lake, about Lakeport, is a branch of this family called the Eastern People
(I do not know the Indian word). The Ku-lé Kai Pé-mo are also called
by the Kato tribe, Shi-bal’-ni Pé-mo (Neighbor People).
CHAPTER XVII.
THE POMO, CONTINUED.
I have already intimated my belief that the word ‘ Pomo” is allied to
the Wintiin pum, meaning “earth”. William Potter, one of the pioneers
of Potter Valley, and a man well acquainted with the Pomo language,
informed me that there was a word, poam, in it signifying the same thing,
from which pomo is derived. I questioned the Indians concerning the exist-
ence of such a word, and none of them had ever heard it. They were
young Indians however, and it is possible that this word is an archaism,
and beyond the range of their knowledge. At any rate, it was given by
Mr. Potter as the basis of a tribal name, Poam Pomo, which is equivalent
in extent to Ballo Kai Pomo. And there is a great deal of probability in
this theory, because they believe, as did the Greeks respecting the fabled
autochthones, that their ancestors, the coyote-men, were created directly
from the soil, from the knoll of red earth mentioned in a previous chapter.
THE POAM POMO.
I shall therefore assume this name as equivalent to Ballo Kai Pomo,
which we have seen denotes “Oat Valley People”. Some readers may
raise an objection to this name on another score. Many Californians hold
that wild oats are not a native crop, but an acclimated product, having
spread from early scatterings left by the Spaniards; but the Indians of this
valley declare they have been growing in California so long that they know
nothing of their origin. Indeed the mere fact that the valley bears the name
of this cereal indicates for the latter an existence therein coeyal with the
Indian oceupation.
In regard to government the Pomo are perhaps a little less ochlocratic
156
: MARRIAGE—WANT OF CHASTITY. 157
than the upper tribes. The chieftainship is hereditary to a certain extent,
and dual, which is to say, there are two chiefs, who might be compared, as to
their functions, to the Japanése Tycoon and Mikado, in that one administers
more particularly the secular affairs, and the other the spiritual. But the
Indians designate them as the war-chief (arrow-man) and peace-chief (shell-
man), the war-chief becoming the peace-chief when he grows too decrepit
to conduct them to battle. The peace-chief is a kind of censor morum,
adjusts disputes, delivers moral homilies on certain anniversary occasions,
performs the marriage ceremonies, so far as they extend, and watches over
the conduct of his people, and especially over that of the wanton young
squaws. Even the war-chief is obedient to him at home, and in fact that
functionary is of secondary importance, since the Pomo are eminently a
peaceable people.
There is rather more formality in the marriage ceremony than prevails
among most California Indians. The bridegroom can hardly be said to
purchase his bride, yet he is expected to make generous presents to her
father, and unless these were forthcoming probably the marriage would
not be pernnitted. The peace-chief causes the parties to enter into a simple
covenant in presence of their parents and friends, after which there is danc-
ing and merry-making for a considerable space of time, together with eating
and drinking, but not in such measure or quality as to constitute feasting.
As is true of California Indians generally, there is scarcely such an
attribute known as virtue or chastity in either sex before marriage. Up
to the time when they enter matrimony most of the young women are a
kind of femmes incomprises, the common property of the tribe; and after
they have once taken on themselves the marriage covenant, simple as it is,
they are guarded with a Turkish jealousy, for even the married women are
not such models as Mrs. Ford. Indeed the wantonness of their women is
the one great eyesore of the Pomo Indians, and it seems to be almost the
sole object of government to preserve them in proper subjection and obedi-
ence. The one great burden of the harangues delivered by the venerable
peace-chief on solemn occasions is the necessity and the excellence of female
virtue; all the terrors of superstitious sanction and the direst threats of
the great prophet are leveled at unchastity, and all the most dreadful calam-
158 THE POMO.
ities and pains of a future state are hung suspended over the heads of those
who are persistently lascivious. All the devices that savage cunning can
invent, all the mysterious and masquerading horrors of devil-raising, all the
secret sorceries, the frightful apparitions and bugbears, which can be sup-
posed effectual in terrifying the women into virtue and preventing smock-
treason, are resorted to by the Pomo leaders.
William Potter, a high authority on Indian matters and master of most
of the Pomo dialects described to me as far as he was able a secret society
which exists among the Poam Pomo, and which has branch chapters at
Clear Lake, Calpello, Redwood Canon and several other places, whose
simple purpose is to conjure up infernal terrors and render each other assist-
ance in keeping their women in subjection.
Their meetings are held in an assembly-house erected especially for
the purpose, constructed of peeled pine poles. It is painted red, black, and
white (wood color) on the inside in spiral stripes reaching from the apex to
the ground. Outside it is thatched and covered with earth. When they
are assembled in it there is a door-keeper at the entrance who suffers no one
to enter unless he is a regular member, pledged to secrecy... Even Mr.
Potter, though a man held in high honor by them was not allowed to enter,
though they offered to initiate him, if he desired. They do not scruple to
avow to Americans who are well acquainted with them, and in whose dis-
cretion they have confidence, that their object is simply to ‘raise the devil”,
as they express it, with whom they pretend to hold communication ; and to
carry on other demoniacal doings, accompanied by frightful whooping and
yelling, in order to work on the imaginations of the erring squaws, no whit
more guilty than themselves.
Once in seven years these secret woman-tamers hold a grand devil-
dance (cha'-du-el-keh), which is looked forward to by the women of the
tribe with fear and trembling, as the scourging visit of the dreadful Yu-ku-
ku’-la (the devil). As this society has its ramifications among many Pomo
tribes, this great dance is held one septennium in one valley, another in
anothermand so on through the circuit of the branch societies.
Every seven years, therefore, witnesses the construction of an immense
assembly-house, which is used for this special occasion only. I have seen
ubtooing.
d
otter Valley ‘I
P.
Figure 18.
TERRORIZING THE WOMEN—AMAZONS. 159
the ruins of one which was reared in Potter Valley somewhere about the
year 1860. The pit or cellar which made a part of it was circular, 63 feet
in diameter, and about 6 feet deep, and all the enormous mass of earth
excavated from it was gouged up with small fire-hardened sticks and carried
away in baskets by both men and women, chiefly men. It was about
18 feet high in the center, and the roof was supported on five posts,
one a center-pole and four others standing around it, equidistant from it and
the perimeter of the pit. Timbers from six to nine inches in diameter were
laid from the edge of the pit to the middle posts, and from these to the cen-
ter-poie. Over these were placed grass and brush, and the whole was heavily
covered with earth. Allowing four square feet of space to each person, such
a structure would contain upward of 700 people. In their palmy days hun-
dreds and even thousands of Indians attended one of these grand dances.
When the dance is held, twenty or thirty men array themselves in hatle-
quin rig and barbaric paint, and put vessels of pitch on their heads; then
they secretly go out into the surrounding mountains. These are to per-
sonify the devils. A herald goes up to the top of the assembly-house, and
makes a speech to the multitude. Ata signal agreed upon in the evening
the masqueraders come in from the mountains, with the vessels of pitch
flaming on their heads, and with all the frightful accessories of noise, motion,
and costume which the savage mind can devise in representation of demons.
The terrified women and children flee for life, the men huddle them
inside a circle, and, on the principle of fighting the devil with fire, they
swing blazing firebrands in the air, yell, whoop, and make frantic dashes at
the marauding and blood-thirsty devils, so creating a terrific spectacle, and
striking great fear into the hearts of the assembled hundreds of women,
who are screaming and fainting and clinging to their valorous protectors.
Finally the devils succeed in getting into the assembly-house, and the
bravest of the men enter and hold a parley with them. As a conclusion of
the whole farce, the men summon courage, the devils are expelled from the
assembly-house, and with a prodigious row and racket of sham fighting
are chased away into the mountains.
After all these terrible doings have exercised their due effect upon the
wanton feminine mind, another stage of the proceedings is entered upon.
160 ' THE POMO.
A rattlesnake was captured some days beforehand, its fangs were plucked
out, and it was handled, stroked, fed, and tamed, so that it could be dis-
played with safety. The venerable, white-haired peace-chief now takes his
station before the multitude, within the great assembly-house, with the rattle-
snake before him as the visible incarnation of the dreadful Yukukula.
Slowly and sonorously he begins, speaking to them of morality and femi-
nine obedience. Then warming with his subject, and brandishing the horrid
reptile in his hand full in the faces and over the heads of his shuddering
auditors, with solemn and awful voice he warns them to beware, and
threatens them with the dire wrath of Yukukula if they do not live lives of
chastity, industry, and obedience, until some of the terrified squaws shriek
aloud and fall swooning upon the ground.
Having sucha pother as they do with their own women to keep them
in a proper mood of humbleness, the Pomo make it a special point to
slaughter those of their enemies when the chances of battle give them an
opportunity. They do this because, as they argue with the greatest sin-
cerity, one woman destroyed is tantamount to five men killed. How dif-
ferent this from the treatment of their women by the old German barba-
rians, as deseribed by Tacitus.
In another direction however, the women exercise some authority.
When an Indian becomes too infirm to serve any longer as a warrior or .
hunter, he is thenceforth condemned to the life of a menial and a scullion.
He is compelled to assist the squaws in all their labors—in picking acorns
and berries, in threshing out seeds and wild oats, making bread, drying
salmon, ete. As the women have entire control of these matters without in-
terference from their lords, these superannuated warriors come entirely under
their authority as much as children, and are obliged to obey their com-
mands implicitly. We may well imagine that the squaws, in revenge for
the ignoble and terrorizing surveillance to which they are subjected by the
braves, not unfrequently domineer over these poor old nonagenarians with
hardness, and make them feel their humiliation keenly.
Cronise, in his “Natural Wealth of California ”, makes mention of an
ancient tradition to the effect that when the Spaniards first arrived in Cali-
fornia, they found a tribe in what is now Mendocino county, in which the
ORIGIN OF FIRE—SUPREME BEING. 161
squaws were Amazons and exercised a gyneocracy. I am inclined to think
the fable was not without some foundation. When we consider the infinite
trouble which these Pomo find it necessary to give themselves in order to
keep the women in subjection, and also that the latter actually bear des-
potice rule over childhood and senility—that is, over the beginning and the
ending of human life—we can easily perceive that these Pomo wives are
stronger than the common run of Indian women. At least, by diligent
inquiry, I never found any other trace of such a race of Amazons.
The Poam Pomo believe that lightning was the origin of fire; that
the primordial bolt which fell from heaven deposited the spark in the wood,
so that it now comes forth when two pieces are rubbed together. As to the
lightning itself, they believed it to be hurled by the Great Man Above, as
it was by Jupiter Tonans.
There is no doubt that they believe in a Supreme Being, but as usual
among the California Indians he is quite a negative being, possessing few,
if any, active attributes. His name is Cha-kal-lé. The syllable cha denotes
“man” (though the usual word meaning an ordinary mortal is atabunya),
and kallé signifies “ above”, being apparently derived from the same root
as kalleh in the Gallinomero language. Hence the name denotes ‘The
Man Above”, or ‘The Great One Above”. But as before remarked, he
is a being of no manner of consequence in their cosmogony, for the Pla-
tonic Kon, the active principle, has always resided in the coyote. He it
was who created the world and mankind, or rather he deigned to take on
himself the human form divine.
Their happy land is in the heavens above us, to which, like the Budd-
hists, they believe they will ascend by a ladder. The souls of the wicked
will fall off the ladder in the ascent and descend into negative and nonde-
script limbo, where they will be neither happy nor tormented, but rove
vacantly and idly about forevermore; while others, in punishment for
greater wickedness, transmigrate into grizzly bears, or into rattlesnakes
condemned to crawl over burning sand, or into other animals condemned to
hunger and thirst; to a California Indian, a place where he is hungry is
hell. They believe that every grizzly bear existing is some old savage
Indian thus returned to this world to be punished for his wickedness.
ILE (6)
162 THE POMO.
LEGEND OF THE COYOTE.
Once upon a time there lived a man among the Yuki of the Black
Chief’s tribe, fierce and terrible, with two sons like to himself, bloody-
minded and evil men. For their great wickedness he and his two sons
were turned into coyotes. Then they started from Rice’s Fork and jour-
neyed southward, biting and slaying all the beasts they came upon. As
they passed over the defile to come into Potter Valley, one of the coyote’s
sons drank so much water from the spring near the summit that he died,
and his father buried him, and heaped over him a cairn of stones, and wept
‘for his son. Then they journeyed on through Potter Valley and went
down to Clear Lake, and there the other son drank so much water that he
. died also, and his father buried him and wept sore. Then the father turned
back and went on alone to a place called White Buttes, and came unto it,
and discovered there much red alabaster, of which the Pomo make beads
to this day, which, among them, are to the shell-beads as gold to silver.
And when he had discovered the red alabaster at White Buttes his hair and
his tail dropped off his body, he stood up on his hind legs and became a
man again.
In this silly fable I can discern no other significance than the super-
stitious belief of its inventors, that for an evil action a human being may
be punished by transmutation into a beast, and that for a good one he may
be restored.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE YO KAI’.A, ETC.
This name has been corrupted by the Americans into “Ukiah”, and
applied to the town around which these Indians live. The word yo means
“down below” or “lower”, and kaia is a dialectic variation of the Pomo
kai, ‘‘vailey”. Sometimes they were called by the Pomo, Yokaia Pomo,
and sometimes Yo-kai’-a-mah.
They occupied the fertile and picturesque valley of Russian River from
a point a little below Calpello down to about seven miles below Ukiah.
‘They were once very numerous. In Coyote Valley, near by, Mr. Christy
states that there were between three hundred and four hundred when he
arrived, while now eight American families in the same valley think them-
selves crowded.
Their style of lodge is the same which prevails generally along Rus-
sian River—a huge framework of willow poles covered with thatch, and
resembling a large, flattish haystack. Though still preserving the same
style and materials, since they have adopted from the Americans the use of
boards they have learned to construct all around the wall of the wigwam
a series of little state-rooms, if I may so call them, which are snugly boarded
up and furnished with bunks inside. This enables every family in these
immense patriarchal lodges to disrobe and retire with some regard to de-
ceney, which could not be done in the one common room of the old-style
wigwain.
I paid a visit to their camp four miles below Ukiah, and finding there
a unique kind of assembly-house desired to enter and examine it, but was
not allowed to do so until I had gained the confidence of the old sexton
by a few friendly words and the tender of a silver half-dollar. The pit of
163
164 THE YOKAIA, ETC.
it was about fifty feet in diameter and four or five feet deep, and it was
so heavily roofed with earth that the interior was damp and somber as a
tomb. It looked like a low tumulus, and was provided with a tunnel-like
entrance about ten feet long and four feet high, and leading down to a level
with the floor of the pit. The mouth of the tunnel was closed with brush,
_and the venerable sexton would not remove it until he had slowly and de-
voutly paced several times to and fro before the entrance. Passing in I
found the massive roof supported by a number of peeled poles painted
white and ringed with black, and ornamented with rude devices. The floor
was covered thick and green with sprouting wheat which had been scat-
tered to feed the spirit of the captain of the tribe lately deceased.
Not long afterward a deputation of the Se-nel’ came up to condole with
the Yokaia on the loss of their chief, and a dance, or series of dances was
held which lasted three days. During this time of course the Senel were
the guests of the Yokaia, and the latter were subjected to a considerable
expense. I was prevented by other engagements from being present and
shall be obliged to depend on the description of an eye-witness, Mr. John
Tenney, whose account is here given with a few changes :
There are four officials connected with the building, who are proba-
bly chosen to preserve order, and to allow no intruders. They are the
assistants of the chief. The invitation to attend was from one of them, and
admission was given by the same. These four wore black vests trimmed
with red flannel and shell ornaments. The chief made no special display
onthe occasion. In addition to these four, who were officers of theassembly-
chamber, there was an old man and a young woman who seemed to be priest
and priestess. The young woman was dressed differently from any other,
the rest dressing in plain calico dresses. Her dress was white, covered
with spots of red flannel, cut in neat figures, ornamented with shells. It
looked gorgeous, and denoted some office, the name of which I could not
ascertain.
Before the visitors were ready to enter, the older men of the tribe
were reclining around the fire smoking and chatting. As the ceremonies
were about to commence, the old man and young woman were summoned,
and standing at the end opposite the entrance they inaugurated the exer-
DANCE FOR A DEAD CHIEF. 165
cises by a brief service, which seemed to be a dedication of the house to
the exercises about to commence. Each of them spoke a few words, joined
in a brief chant, and the house was thrown open for their visitors. They
staid at their post until the visitors entered and were seated on one side of
the room. After the visitors, then others were seated, making about two
hundred in all, though there was plenty of room in the center for the danc-
ing. Before the dance commenced the chief of the visiting tribe made a-°
brief speech, in which he no doubt referred to the death of the chief of the
Yokaia, and offered the sympathy of his tribe in this loss. As he spoke
some of the women scarcely refrained from crying out, and with difficulty
they suppressed their sobs. I presume that he proposed a few moments of
mourning, for when he stopped the whole assemblage burst forth into a
bitter wailing
g, some screaming as if in agony. The whole thing created
such a din that I was compelled to stop my ears. The air was rent and
pierced with their cries. This wailing and shedding of tears lasted about
three or five minutes, though it seemed to last a halfhour. Ata given signal
they ceased, wiped their eyes, and quieted down.
Then preparations were made for the dance. One end of the room
was set aside for the dressing-room.
The chief actors were five men, who were muscular and agile. ‘They
were profusely decorated with paint and feathers, while white and dark stripes
covered their bodies. They were girt about the middle with cloth of bright
colors—sometimes with variegated shawls. A feather mantle hung from the
shoulder, reaching below the knee, strings of shell ornamented the neck,
while their heads were covered with a crown of eagle-feathers. They had
whistles in their mouths as‘they danced, swaying their heads, bending and
whirling their bodies; every muscle seemed to be exercised, and the feather
ornaments quivered with life. They were agile and graceful as they bounded
about in the sinuous course of the dance.
The five men were assisted by a semicircle of twenty women, who
only marked time by stepping up and down with short step; they always
took their places first and disappeared first; the men making their exit
gracefully one by one.
The dresses of the women were suitable for the occasion. They
166 THE YOKAIA, ETC.
wore white dresses trimmed heavily with black velvet. The stripes were
about three inches wide, some plain and others edged like saw-teeth. This
was an indication of their mourning for the dead chief in whose honor they
had prepared that style of dancing. Strings of Haliotis and Pachydesma
shell-beads encircled their necks, and around their waists were belts heavily
loaded with the same material. Their head-dresses were more showy than
those of the men. The head was encireled with a bandeau of otters’ or
beavers’ fur, to which were attached short wires standing out in all directions,
with glass and shell beads strung on them, and at the tips little feather flags
and quail plumes. Surmounting all was a pyramidal plume of feathers,
black, gray, and scarlet, the top generally being a bright scarlet bunch,
raving and tossing very beautifully. All these combined gave their heads
a very brilliant and spangled appearance.
The first day the dance was slow and funereal, in honor of the Yokaia
chief who died a short time before. The music was mournful and simple,
being a monotonous chant, in which only two tones were used, accompanied
with a rattling of split sticks and stamping on a hollow slab.
The second day the dance was more lively on the part of the men, the
music was better, employing airs which had a greater range of tone, and
the women generally joined in the chorus. The dress of the women was
not so beautiful, as they appeared in ordinary calico.
The third day, if observed in accordance with Indian custom, the danc-
ing was still more lively and the proceedings more gay, just as the coming
home from a Christian funeral is apt to be much more jolly than the going
out.
A Yokaia widow’s style of mourning is peculiar. In addition to the
usual evidences of grief she mingles the ashes of her dead husband with
pitch, making a white tar or unguent with which she smears a band about
two inches wide all around the edge of the hair (which is previously cut
off close to the head), so that at a little distance she appears to be wearing
a white chaplet.
It is their custom to “feed the spirits of the dead” for the space of one
year by going daily to places which they were accustomed to frequent
while living, where they sprinkle pinole upon the ground. A Yokaia mother
who has lost her babe goes every day for a year to some place where her
FEEDING THE SPIRITS OF THE DEAD. 167
little one played while alive, or to the spot where its body was burned, and
milks her breasts into the air. This is accompanied by plaintive mourning
and weeping, and piteous calling upon her little one to return, and some-
times she sings a hoarse and melancholy chant, and dances with a wild,
eestatic swaying of her body..
The one great charm and panacea of the Yckaia physician or powwow
is a stuffed lizard, while his Ausculapian robes are a mantle of black eagle’s
tail-feathers and a gaudy plume of the same. Equipped with the one and
panoplied in the others, he pirouettes, curvets and prances around the
patient, brandishing the lizard aloft, with many wild and lunatic whoops
and crooning chants; now dancing swiftly up to him, then backward away
from him, to draw out the evil spirits. Then he stoops down and waves
the lizard over him with countless motions, gradually advancing from the
body to the extremities of the limbs as if thus driving out the devil at his
fingers’ ends.
In Coyote Valley I saw some of this tribe motu proprio cultivating a
little garden of corn which belonged to themselves. They employ neither
plow nor hoe, but the squaws sit sheer down on the ground beside the hills,
and work probably fifteen minutes at each one, digging up the earth deep
and rubbing it all up fine in the hands. By this means they can till only
an extremely small crop, but they do it excellently well and get a greater
yield than Americans would.
Following is a table of numerals, showing how the Pomo language
changes as one comes down Russian River. The first column was taken at
Cahto, the second at Ukiah, the third at Sanel, the fourth at Healdsburg:
1 | cha. | ta-ro ta-to. | chah.
DW ACO: ka. | ko. | 4-ko.
3 | sib’-bo. sib’-bo. | sib’-bu. | mi-sib’-bo.
4 | tak. | du-ha. du-ko. mif-tah.
5 | shal. nd-twi. na-to. | tu-sbuh.
6 | fA-deh. ts4-deh. tsd-deh. _ Jan’-kah.
7 | ké-pa. hoi’-nait. ké-i-naz _ lat’-ko.
8 | ké-wal. _ ké-go-dol. | k6-go-dol. ko-mi-tah.
9 | shal’-shal. nem’-go-shun. | nt-mo-shun. cha-ko.
10 | sa-la. nem’-po-tek. — na-va-ko-tek. | cha-sti-to.
168 THE YOKAIA, ETC.
THE SE-NEL’.
The Se-nel’, together with three other petty tribes, mere villages, occupy
that broad expansion of Russian River Valley, on one side of which now
stands the American village of Sanel. Among them we find unmistakably
developed that patriarchal system which appears to prevail all along Rus-
sian River. They construct immense dome-shaped or oblong lodges of
willow poles an inch or two in diameter, woven in square lattice-work,
securely lashed and thatched. In each one of these live several families,
sometimes twenty or thirty persons, including all who are blood relations.
Each wigwam therefore is a pueblo, a law unto itself. And yet these
lodges are grouped in villages, some of which formerly contained hundreds
of inhabitants, and one of which will presently be described.
During the dry season they abandon these huge wigwams entirely,
and live in booths close by the river side, in the cool shadows of the willows,
where they can almost dip up the salmon-trout and the skeggers, as they lie
on their leafy couches. Here in the damp silt they have nowadays patches
of maize, with a few squashes, beans, and melons, where they can sling
water over them from the shrunken river with their hands or baskets, if there
is need of irrigation. But, like little children, they generally eat the melons
prematurely, and the squashes unwholesomely green, the latter being roasted
whole. When the rainy season sets in they return to the wigwams, though
they generally burn the old ones to destroy the vermin, and construct new
ones.
Just opposite the American village of Sanel, on the east side of the
river, are the ruins of an old Indian town which was once probably more
populous than its civilized suecessor will ever become. I wandered over it
one day, traced out its streets and the sites of its barbaric temples (assembly-
houses), sketched it, and endeavored to form some estimate of its ancient
population. ‘The streets were quite straight, and each wigwam formed a
block, the sites of them being plainly discernible by the hollows which
were rounded: out. Owing to their custom of burning old wigwams occa-
sionally, it is not easy to determine what the population was, since the
largest limits of the town may never have been occupied at once, part being
built upon and part being in ashes. The assembly-houses are the best
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AN OLD INDIAN TOWN. 169
standard of measurement, because most permanent. ‘There were five of
them, each of which would contain a hundred persons; and as they were
intended for men chiefly it is safe to estimate that the town once numbered
1,500 souls. Mr. March states that in 1847 it still contained between 300
and 400 people.
When a Senel woman is: sterile she and her husband go on a long
journey into the mountains, where they take upon themselves certain vows,
make certain offerings, and perform rites, none of which are proper sub-
jects for description. All this they do in hope ef having offspring.
Their ceremonial dances are much the same as those of the Pomo, both
in the manner, objects, and accouterments worn.
According to the Senel, the sun and moon are active, potent, and
malignant spirits, the same as the innumerable other devils in whom they
believe. Hence if one has the headache or sunstroke he thinks he is
tormented by one or the other of these evil luminaries—sun-poisoned or
moon-poisoned. As a means of relief he sometimes thumps his head
unmercifully, causing his nose to bleed. They torture their bodies too,
not only for themselves, but also for their friends when afflicted. They
believe that by lacerating themselves they help to placate the wrath of the
evil one, and thereby alleviate the distress of their relatives.
The dead are mostly burned. Mr. Willard described to me a scene of
incremation that he once witnessed which was frightful for its exhibitions
of fanatie frenzy and infatuation. The corpse was that of a wealthy chief-
tain, and as he lay upon the funeral pyre they placed in his mouth two
gold twenties, and other smaller coins in his ears and hands, on his breast
etc., besides all his finery, his feather mantles, plumes, clothing, shell-money,
his fancy bows, painted arrows, etc. When the torch was applied they set
up a mournful ululation, chanting and dancing about him, gradually work-
ing themselves into a wild and ecstatic raving—which seemed almost a demo-
niacal possession—leaping, howling, lacerating their flesh. Many seemed
to lose all self-control. The younger, English-speaking Indians generally
lend themselves charily to such superstitious work, especially if American
spectators are present; but even they were carried away by the old con-
170 THE YOKAIA, ETC.
tagious frenzy of their race. One stripped off a broadcloth coat, quite new
and fine, and ran frantically yelling and cast it upon the blazing pile.
Another rushed up and was about to throw on a pair of California blankets,
when a white man, to test his sincerity, offered him 516 for them, jingling
the bright coins before his eyes; but the savage (for such he had become
again for the moment), otherwise so avaricious, hurled him away with a
yell of execration and ran and threw his offering into the flames. Squaws,
even more frenzied, wildly flung upon the pyre all they had in the world—
their dearest ornaments, their gaudiest dresses, their strings of glittering
shells. Screaming, wailing, tearing their hair, beating their breasts in their
mad and insensate infatuation, some of them would have cast themselves
bodily into the flaming ruins and perished with the chief had they not been
restrained by their companions. Thus the swift, bright flames with their
hot tongues licked this ‘“‘cold obstruction” into chemice change, and the once
“delighted spirit” of the savage was borne up—
“To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world”.
It seems as if the savage shared in Shakspeare’s shudder at the thought
of rotting in the dismal grave, for it is the one passion of his super-
stition to think of the soul of his departed friend set free and purified by
the swift, purging heat of the flames, not dragged down to be clogged and
bound in the moldering body, but borne up in the soft, warm chariots of
the smoke toward the beautiful sun, to bask in his warmth and light, and
then to fly away to the Happy Western Land. What wonder if the Indian
shrinks with unspeakable horror from the thought of burying his friend’s
soul! of pressing and ramming down with pitiless clods that inner something
which once took such delight in the sweet light of the sun! What wonder
if it takes years to persuade him to do otherwise, and follow our custom !
What wonder if even then he does it with sad fears and misgivings! Why
not let him keep his custom? In the gorgeous landscapes and balmy climate
of California and India incremation is as natural to the savage as it is for
him to love the beauty of the sun. Let the vile Esquimaux and the frozen
A THEORY OF INCREMATION. 171
Siberian bury their dead if they will; it matters little; the earth is the same
above as below; or to them the bosom of the earth may seem even the
better ; but in California, do not blame the savage if he recoils at the thought
of going under ground! This soft, pale halo of the lilae hills—ah, let him
console himself if he will with the belief that his lost friend enjoys it
still.
The narrator concluded by saying that they destroyed full $500 worth
of property. ‘The blankets,” said he, with a fine Californian scorn of such
absurd insensibility to a good bargain, ‘‘the blankets that the American
offered him $16 for were not worth half the money.”
After death the Senel hold that bad Indians return into coyotes. Others
fall off a bridge which all souls must traverse, or are hooked off by a raging
bull at the further end, while the good escape across.
Like the Yokaia and the Konkau, they believe it necessary to nourish
the spirits of the departed for the space of a year. This is generally done
by a squaw, who takes pinole in her basket, repairs to the scene of the
incremation or to places hallowed by the memory of the dead, where she
scatters it over the ground, meantime rocking her body violently to and fro
in a dance, and chanting the following chorus:
“ Hel-lel-li-ly
Hel-lel-lo,
Hel-lel-lu ”.
This refrain is repeated over and over indefinitely, but the words have
no meaning whatever.
Their ‘ Big Indians” profess to believe that the whole world was once
a globe of fire, whence that element passed up into the trees, and now comes
out whenever two pieces of wood are rubbed together. So, also, they hold
the world will finally be consumed by fire. They may have acquired these
notions from the Spaniards, but I think not, for the California Indians while
accepting our outward customs cling tenaciously to their ancient beliefs.
Nearly all the Wintiin tribes entertain the same notion, and-the earthquakes
of California are suflicient to account for it.
Clear Lake was created by a coyote which drank too much brine trom
12 THE YOKAIA, ETC.
the ocean, and fell sick before he traveled far, whereupon he vomited up
this lake.
Besides the Senel, there live in this vicinity the So-ké-a, the Lé-ma,
and the Si-a-ko, very small tribes or villages.
THE KO-MA-CHO.
These Indians live in Rancheria and Anderson Valleys, and are a
branch of the great Pomo family, although more nearly related to the Senel
than to the Pomo proper. Their name is derived from their present chief,
whose authority extends over both valleys.
One custom is observed by the Komacho, which I have not heard of
among the Pomo or any other Indians in the State. It is the levying of a
kind of free-will tax on the people for the support of the chief. Every
autumn, on the occasion of the great annual gathering which prevails quite
generally throughout California upon the ripening of the acorns, they bring
up their voluntary contributions to himself and to the members of his family
as regularly as the medieval Englishman paid his Rome-scot on Lammas-
day. Dried salmon, acorn-bread, fine buckskins, baskets ornamental and
baskets useful, strings of shells; all these are acceptable. Also, when one
of the chief’s family dies all the tribe assemble at his wigwam to condole
with him, and each brings an offering according to his several ability, for
himself or some member of his family.
Their principal anniversary dance is the watermelon dance. It is cele-
brated with the same sacred costumes of feathers, and with very much the
same manner of chanting and dancing as have been described in the chap-
ters on the Pomo. ‘They stand around the fire in two circles, the women
outside, and the men dance or rather stamp with one foot only, while the
women simply sway themselves to and fro and swing their handkerchiefs.
Like the Senel, they frequently torture themselves in behalf of their
sick relatives. When any one dear to them is lying at the point of death
the squaws are stricken with the wildest frenzy of grief, and fling into the
air handful after handful of their most valuable shell-money. Then they
suddenly fall to the earth as if in a trance, where they lie motionless and
lifeless for hours, like those smitten by the “power” in a negro revival.
THE KOMACHO—TORTURES. 1g
They do this with the hope of creating a diversion, to induce the torment-
ing spirits to quit their relatives and assault themselves. They believe that
by distracting or dividing their attention they can overpower and expel
them.
When dancing around the funeral pyre they show the same passionate
and frenzied sorrow and make the same fanatic manifestations as do the
Senel. Everything belonging to the deceased, even to his horse, is sacri-
ficed.
CHAPTER XIX.
THB GAL-LI-NO-ME-RO.
In Russian River Valley, from Cloverdale down to the redwood
belt and south to Santa Rosa Creek, and also in Dry Creek Valley, live the
remnants of a tribe whom the Spaniards called the Gal-li-no-me’-ro nation
The Gallinoméro proper occupy enly Dry Creek and Russian River, below
Healdsburg, within the limits above named; while above Healdsburg,
principally between Geyserville and Cloverdale, are the Mi-sal’-la Ma-giin’,
or Mu-sal-la-kiin’, and the Kai-mé. This nation may be considered a
branch of the great family of the Pomo, whose habitat is co-extensive with
Russian River Valley, covers the lowlands on the northwest of Clear Lake,
and includes all the habitable coast from Usal Creek down to Bodega.
- What their vernacular name was neither the chief, Ventura, nor his
Cardinal Woolsey, Andres, though both are quite intelligent, can now recol-
lect if they ever knew. It is a good instance of that moral feebleness and
abdication of the California Indians which accepts without question any
name the pale-face bestows, and adopts it instead of their own. Their
mountainous neighbors, the Ashochimi, have a rather more honorable reason
for accepting from the Spaniards their name (Wappos), for it was given to
them by the latter when smarting under the terrible whippings which they
used to suffer at the hands of that valorous tribe. From the fetichism pre-
vailing in Russian River Valley generally, I am inclined to think the Gal-
linoméro were named after some species of birds, owls or hawks, to which
they paid a kind of worship, as to devils who were to be feared and pro-
pitiated. At any rate, the early Spaniards named one of their great chiefs
Gallina (a cock), from whom the tribe derives its present title.
As with most of the aborigines in that valley, their social and govern-
meutal organization is patriarchal and the chiefship hereditary, though the
174
SOCIAL AND GOVERNMENTAL ORGANIZATION. 175
functions of that office are nebulous. The remnant of them now living a
little way below Healdsburg occupy one great wigwam, Ventura with his
subjects, twenty or thirty together, on the most democratic equality. This
wigwam is in the shape of the capital letter L, made up of slats leaned up to a
ridge-pole, and heavily thatched. All along the middle of it the different
families or generations have their fires, while they sleep next the walls, lying
on the ground underneath rabbit-skin and other less elegant robes, and
amid a filthy clutter of baskets, dogs, large conical-shaped baskets of acorns
stacked one upon the other, and all the wretched trumpery dear to the
aboriginal heart. There are three narrow holes for doors, one at either
end and one at the elbow.
They are nearly black, Ventura being the blackest of all; and ona warm,
sunny day in February when he is chopping wood briskly his cuticle shines
like that of a Louisiana field-hand. The nose is moderately high, straight
and emphatic, with thick walls, and ovoid or nearly round nares; lips rather
thick and sensual; forehead low, but nearly perpendicular with the chin;
face rounder and flatter than in the Atlantic Indian; eyes well-sized and
freely opened straight across the face, with a sluggish but foxy expression ;
color varying from old bronze or brown almost to black, though an ocea-
sional freckled face and sparse whisker betray a touch of Castilian blood in
the veins. They live on the land of a good-natured farmer, and do occa-
sional small services in the field in return for casual flitches of dubious
bacon, baskets of specked apples, cast-off clothing, and the like. These
and the contributions of the neighbors eke out their stock of salmon and
acorns and enable them to live in considerable affluence. In the matter of
providing for the casual necessities of the patriarchal household, Ventura is
worth all the dozen or so of his male subjects; and he demonstrates daily
his right to the chiefship by chopping wood, breaking mustangs, fishing,
and otherwise playing an altogether manly part.
Their small dogs are fat and churlish, and they themselves look well
fed, their black-brown faces shining out oleaginous amid their tatters.
Whisky is interdicted by a wise and humane statute which is generally
obeyed, and they appear to dwell together in great tranquillity, dozing
away their vacuous lives from day to day in the sun and calmly brushing
176 THE GALLINOMERO.
off the flies. The California Indian has a negro’s fondness for the sun-
shine.
But the men provide all the wood needed in the scullery and bring it
in. Neither are they sluggards in this matter at all. I have seen Ventura
and two or three of his right-hand men chopping lustily on a warm day in
February until the perspiration rolled in great drops down their grave,
dark, furrowed faces. Sometimes they have two or three cords of wood
neatly stacked in ricks about the wigwam. Yet even then, with the heart-
less cruelty of the race, they will dispatch an old man to the distant forest
with an ax, and you may see him returning, with his white head painfully
bowed under a back-load of knaggy limbs, and his bare bronzed bow-legs
moving on with that cat-like softness and evenness of the Indian, but so
slowly that the poor old creature scarcely seems to get on.
Strange mingling of cruelty and generosity! Give the chief a hand-
ful of buns on Christmas or a bottle of Bourbon, of which they are most
covetous and stingy, yet will he distribute to alla portion, making his own
no larger than any other.
These Indians walk more pigeon-toed than do those on the Klamath,
at least in old age, and they emit an odor which is a trifle more offensive.
An Indian scarcely ever totters in his walk, no matter how old. All his
life long he has put down his feet with so even and steady a motion that, if
he can get on his legs at all, he moves forward with balance.
They have the avarice common to the California Indians amusingly
developed. One day I offered Ventura half a dollar if he would tell me
what traditions he knew. He refused because he had been at the trouble
of learning Spanish. He said it was worth more than half a dollar to learn
Spanish, and if I wanted the traditions cheaper I must learn Indian. I did
learn some Indian during the winter, and discovered that the sly old man
had no traditions to speak of.
When a strange Indian arrives in a camp of the Gallinomero some one
says to him, ‘“d-mi-ka” (is that you)? To this he replies, “hi-0”, (yes)
The stranger then advances into the circle or enters the wigwam, as the
case may chance, and squats down without ceremony and without a word.
A squaw brings him some food in a small basket, of which he partakes in
SERA net cs
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Figure 20.—Ventura’s Lodge.
APPRENTICESHIP—INFANTICIDE. We
silence, neither does any one address him so much as a word until he has
finished his repast. Then he is gradually drawn into conversation and is
expected to give some account of himself. In primitive times these Indians
frequently lay flat on their bellies in eating. =
When a young Gallinomero loses his parents and older brothers he
can bind himself to others by a sort of apprenticeship. That is to say, with
a certain amount of shell-money he can purchase parents and brothers for
himself who are bound to guarantee him the same protection that they
would if they were blood relations. If he possesses the requisite amount of
money to pay them for this service he does not become more beholden to
them than before the contract ; but in default of it he becomes an appren-
tice or slave to his adopted parents.
In like manner a refugee or exile from another tribe can find among
the Gallinomero a kind of Alsatia, and entitle himself to citizenship and
protection by buying parents and brothers. Joseph Fitch related an in-
stance of a squaw who came from some tribe in Sacramento Valley, pur-
chased parents and brothers, and by thus becoming naturalized and owing
allegiance to the tribe could not be taken away by her own people. From
this one would infer that extradition treaties were unknown.
No crime is known for which the malefactor cannot atone with money.
It seems to be the law however, that in case of murder the avenger of
blood has his option between money and the murderer’s life. But he does
not seem to be allowed to wreak on him a personal and irresponsible ven-
geance. The chief takes the criminal and ties him to a tree, and then a
number of persons shoot arrows into him at their leisure, thus putting him
to death by slow torture.
According to their own confession, and the statements of the early
settlers, they were addicted to infanticide. They do not seem to have lim-
ited themselves to twins, or to have made any distinction of sex, but cut
off boys and girls alike, especially if deformed. When resorted to the act
was immediate; it was done by pressing the knees on the infant’s stomach.
If allowed to live three days its life was thenceforth secure. They did not
call it a “relation” until they had decided to spare its life. When remon-
strated with for this abominable practice, they plead “not guilty”; they
12 0 ¢
178 THE GALLINOMERO.
say they do not kill it, but “God kills it”. It seems to have been that mere
heartless and stolid butchery which comes of over-population, and of that
hard and grim penury which stamps out of the human heart its natural
affections. They are grossly licentious, like all California Indians, but this
horrible crime did not result from the shame of dishonest motherhood.
Neither was it caused, as in later years, by that deep and despairing melan-
choly which came over the hapless race when they saw themselves perishing
so hopelessly and so miserably before the face of the American.
If in regard of their treatment of infants they resemble the Chinese,
in their bearing toward the aged they are as far removed from them as light
from darkness. While the Chinaman sometimes slays his helpless babe
that he may the better support his equally helpless parents, the Gallinomero
reverses the practice. He puts his decrepit father or mother to death.
When the former can no longer feebly creep to the forest to gather his
back-load of fuel or a basket of acorns, and is only a burden to his sons,
the poor old wretch is not unfrequently thrown down on his back and
securely held while a stick is placed across his throat, and two of them seat
themselves on the ends of it until he ceases to breathe. I could hardly
have believed this horrible thing, and I record it only on the testimony of
two trustworthy men, Joseph Fitch and Louis Pina, both veteran pioneers
who had lived among them many years.
A young Gallinomero buys his wife, in accordance with the usual cus-
tom, without any preceding courtship, but the parents must give their con-
sent to the marriage. If dissatisfied with her, and he can strike a bargain
with another man, he sells her to him for a few strings of shell-money.
They very seldom beat their wives, but if they do not like them they
quietly abandon them, so that in case of separation or divorce the wite
always retains the children.
Being eminently a peaceable people they have no war-dances, and
take no scalps when they do go to battle. Among themselves there was
never anything that could be dignified with the name of a battle, hardly
even a fisticuff, but they were sometimes compelled to fight with the war-
like Wappos. So timid were they that when the Spaniards first made their
appearance among them on horseback they fled with the greatest terror
A THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE. , 179
and secreted themselves in the bushes. To this day they do not eat the
flesh of a horse, though they will ride that noble animal even unto death
if they can possess themselves of one. There are many old Indians, how-
ever, especially squaws, whom the younger ones will never succeed to the
day of their death in inducing to bestride a horse. They will lug all the
baggage they can possibly go under, and fall far behind in the march,
coming into camp only after nightfall, or perhaps not arriving until the
mounted party are ready to start on next morning, rather than mount the
animal which caused them such a precious fright thirty or forty years ago.
There is one very curious exhibition—a kind of pantomime or rude
theatrical performance—which deserves a somewhat minute description, as
it does not generally prevail among the California Indians. They give it
no other name but k0o-ha, which signifies simply “dance”, although they
translate it into Spanish by “fandango”; but I will call it by way of dis-
tinction, the spear dance. It might also be called the coward’s dance, for
it seems to be intended as a kind of take-off on the greatest coward in the
tribe, much on the same principle that a wooden spoon is presented to the
ugliest man in Yale.
First they all unite, men and squaws together, in a pleasant dance,
accompanied by a chant, while a chorister keeps time by beating on his
hand with a split stick. In addition to their finest deer-skin chemises and
strings of beads, the squaws wear large puffs of yellow-hammers’ down over
their eyes. The men have mantles of buzzards’, hawks’, or eagles’ tail-
feathers, reaching from the arm-pits down to the thighs, and circular head-
dresses of the same material, besides their usual breech-clouts of rawhide,
and ave painted in front with terrific splendor. They dance in two circles,
the squaws in the outside one; the men leaping up and down as usual, and
the squaws simply swaying their bodies and waving their handkerchiefs in
a lackadaisical manner. Occasionally an Indian will shoot away through
the interior of the circle, and caper like a harlequin for a considerable space
of time, but he always returns to his place in front of his partner.
After this is over, the coward or clown is provided with a long, sharp
stick, and he and his prompter take their places in the ring ready for per-
formances. A woman as nearly nude as barbaric modesty will permit is
180 THE GALLINOMERO.
placed in the center, squatting on the ground. Then some Indian intones
a chant, which he sings alone, and the sport, such as it is, begins. At the
bidding of the prompter the coward makes a furious sally in one direction,
and with his spear stabs the empty air. Then he dashes back in the oppo-
’ site direction and slashes into the air again. Next he runs some other way
and stabs again. Now perhaps he makes a feint to pierce the woman.
Thus the prompter keeps him chasing backward and forward, spearing
the thin air toward every point of the compass, or making passes at the
woman, until nearly tired out, and the patience of the American spec-
tators is exhausted, and they begin to think the whole affair will ter-
minate in ‘mere dumb show”. But finally at a°word from the prompter,
the spearman makes a tremendous run at the woman, and stabs her in the
umbilicus. She falls over on the ground quivering in every limb and the
blood jets forth in a purple stream. The Indians all rush around her
quickly and hustle her away to another place where they commence lay-
ing her out for the funeral pyre, but huddle around her so thickly all the
while that the Americans cannot approach to see what is done. Thus they
mystify matters, and hold some powwow over her for a considerable space
of time, when she somehow mysteriously revives, recovers her feet, goes
away to her wigwam, encircled by a bevy of her companions, dons her
robe, and reappears in the circle as well as ever, despite that terrible spear-
thrust. ,
Men who have witnessed this performance tell me the first time they
saw it they would have taken their oaths that the woman was stabbed unto
death, so perfect was the illusion. Although this travesty of gladiatorial
combat is intended merely for amusement, yet all the Indians, these stoics
of the woods, gaze upon it with profound and passionless gravity. If they
laugh at all it is only after it is all over, and at the mystification of the
Americans.
As an evidence of their peaceful disposition, it may be mentioned that
Joaquin Carrillo, a cousin of the celebrated Pio Pico, established himself on
the Santa Rosa Plains as early as-1838, and lived alone far from any gar-
rison in perfect security. He was surrounded by hundreds of them, and
he gathered around him a baronial following, as the custom of the early
MEDICAL PRACTICE—INCREMATION, WSL
Spaniards was. Senor Carrillo mentions that in 1838, there were no wild
oats growing on the plains, though they were found in patches on the
mountains, and that they subsequently took root-on the plains from seed
scattered by the Indians.
In autumn is held the wild-oat dance. Not only is there no feasting
on the part of anybody, but none who. participate in the dance are allowed
to partake of any meat. One of the most singular circumstances touching
the California Indians is the number of occasions when they are required to
abstain from flesh. One is constantly reminded of the ancient Israelites.
In their medical practice they make use of several conjurations, one of
which is to place the patient in a pole pen which is ornamented with owls’,
hawks’, buzzards’, and eagles’ feathers as a propitiation to those diabolical
birds. Then they chant and caper around the pen in a circle. Sometimes
the shamin scarifies the person, sucks out some blood, gargles his mouth
with the same, then ejects it in a hole dug in the ground, and buries it
out of sight, thinking he has thus eliminated from the body the materia pec-
cans. The physician must abstain rigidly from food while performing his
conjurations over a patient, and they sometimes continue a good part of a
day.
As soon as life is extinct they lay the body decently on the funeral
pyre, and the torch is applied. The weird and hideous scenes which ensue,
the screams, the blood-curdling ululations, the self-lacerations they perform
during the burning are too terrible to be described. Joseph Fitch says he
has seen an Indian become so frenzied that he would rush up to the blazing
pyre, snatch from the body a handful of burning flesh and devour it. To
augment the horror of these frightful orgies, the horse or dog belonging to
the deceased is led up to the spot, and cut off with butcherly slaughter.
When the fire is burned down they scoop up the ashes in their hands and
scatter them high into the air. They believe that they thus give the disem-
bodied spirit wings, and that it mounts up to hover forever in the upper
regions, westward by the sea, happy in the boundless voids of heaven, yet
ever near enough still to delight itself with the pleasant visions of earth.
But different Indians hold different views, and the totality of them believe
in a greater number of heavens than the Shakers. Some of them believe
182 THE GALLINOMERO.
that they go to the Happy Western Land beyond the sea; others, that they
ascend up indefinitely. The bad return into coyotes, or sink immeasurably
deep into the bowels of the earth.
There is one very curious conceit which they entertain concerning that
region, which is not to be mentioned to ears polite. They say it is an island
in the bitter, salt sea, an island naked, barren, and desolate, covered only with
brine-spattered stones, and with glistening salt, which crunches under the
tread, and swept with cursed winds and blinding acrid sea-spray. On this
abhorred island bad Indians are condemned to live forever, spending an
eternity in breaking stones one upon another, with no food but the broken
stones and no drink but the choking brine. They are forced to this unend-
ing toil by a task-master who is the most hideous of conceivable beings.
Though created in the human form, he is scarcely recognizable ; one shoul-
der is higher than the other; his face is horribly contorted and drawn to
one side; one eye is protruded and ten times its natural size, while the other
is shrunken, bleared, and infernal; one arm is twice as long as the other;
one of his legs is wrenched forward, and the other backward; they are of
uneven length, ete.
The dead are mourned for a year. Every morning and evening for
about two hours, during that length of time, the relatives seat themselves
in a circle on the ground, and set up their mournful wails and chants, while
they beat themselves and tear their hair. Lifting their eyes to heaven,
they cry out, ‘Wa, toch-i-dé! Wa, toch-i-dé!” (O, my mother!) or whatever
may be the relation. During the remainder of the day they go about their
several employments with their ordinary composure.
They have a vague notion of a great ruling power somewhere in the
heavens, whom they call Kal-li-top’-ti, which means “The Chief Above”.
But the coyote performed all the work of creation. They do not pretend
to explain the origin of the world, but they believe that astute animal to
be the author of man himself, of fire, of the luminaries of heaven, ete. Fire
he created by rubbing two pieces of wood together in his paws, and the
sacred spark he has preserved in the tree-trunks to this day.
ORIGIN OF LIGHT.
In the early days of the world all the face of the earth was wrapped
ORIGIN OF LIGHT—THE MISALLA MAGUN. 185
in darkness, thick and profound. All the animals ran to*and fro in dire
confusion; the birds of the air flew wildly aloft, then dashed themselves
with violence upon the ground, not knowing whither to steer their course.
By an accident of this kind the coyote and the hawk happened to thrust
their noses together one day, and they took counsel how they might remedy
this sore evil. The coyote groped his way into a swamp and gathered a
quantity of dry tules which he rolled into a large ball. This he gave to
the hawk, with some flints, and sent him up into heaven with it, where he
touched it off and sent it whirling around the earth. This was the sun.
The moon was made the same way, only the tules happened to be damp
and did not burn so well.
THE MI-SAL’-LA MA-GUN’.
This branch of the nation was named after a famous chief they once
had. A Gallinomero told me the name was a corruption of mi-sal'-la-a'-ko,
which denotes “long snake”. Another form for the name is Mu-sal-la-ktin’.
Resembling the Gallinomero so closely, they require only a few para-
graphs. They and the Kai-me’ occupy both banks of Russian River from
Cloverdale down to the territory of the Rincons (Wappos), about Geyser-
ville.
Like all California Indians they are very hospitable and sociable, and
are continually inventing pretexts for one of their simple dances. When
their friends of a neighboring village come to visit them, straightway they
must have a dance of welcome. Men and women form in two circles, the
women on the outside. The chorister climbs up in a tree or mounts a rude
kind of rostrum, with a crooked twig in his hand for a baton. Perhaps two
or three others get up with him, each with two or three or four wooden
whistles in his mouth, on which they blow intensely monotonous blasts,
while the dancers leap up and down and chant lively as a grig.
The Misalla Magiin occasionally commit infanticide to this day, for
they say they do not wish to rear any more children among the whites.
There seems to have fallen on them a great and bitter despair, so far as
their natures are capable of entertaining any profound emotion; they see
themselves slowly and surely throttled by the white man with his busy
184 THE GALLINOMERO,
engines, his vast enterprises, his thundering locomotives; all their fine broad
valleys wrenched from them with bloody violence; themselves jostled,
elbowed back, crushed to earth; all their rich nut-bearing forests filled with
the swarming flocks and herds of the avaricious and never resting American,
consuming the acorns which are their subsistence, and for presuming to
gather which off lands which were their own from time immemorial, and
for which they have never received the compensation of one poor dollar,
they have been sometimes pursued and shot unto death like jackals. They
see themselves swiftly dwindling, dwindling, melting away before some
mysterious and pathless power, which they can neither comprehend nor
resist; they foresee that they can leave to their degraded and unhappy off-
spring nothing but a heritage of contempt, isolation, and discontent; and
in the voiceless and unreasoning bitterness of their ‘‘small-knowing souls”,
in mere sullen ‘dumb despair”, they resolve to cut them off im unconscious
infancy from a fate so miserable and so sad.
To me the prevalence of infanticide among the Indians of California
(for other tribes also confess it) is an eloquent testimonial to their great
antiquity as a race, for we see it likewise among the Chinese, confessedly
one of the oldest races on the globe, and in many things, especially in their
dark and abominable cruelties, closely resembling the Indians of this vicinity ;
and it testifies not alone to their antiquity, but also to the dense masses of
population who must have existed here before the advent of either Spaniard
or American.
LITTLE HARVEY BELL.
For many months during the year 1571 the stage-road between Healds-
burg and Cloverdale was so infested by robbers that many and valuable
packages were frequently sent through hidden deep in the capacious bodies
of lumiber-wagons. The bandits were commanded by one Houx, and among
them was a little Indian boy, called Harvey Bell, who was supposed to be
about fourteen years old. At last all of the band were arrested except little
Harvey, who it appears was not suspected. Being left alone he could not
at once abandon his calling, but like that chicken-thief mentioned by the
Chinese philosopher Mencius he could break off only by degrees. So on
Christmas day, in the soft gloaming which was rendering all things dim, he
LITTLE HARVEY BELL. 185
equipped himself with a redwood picket, advanced boldly upon the stage
which just then came rattling and teetering along, near Geyserville, and,
presenting his stick ordered the driver to halt. The driver obeyed and
asked what was wanted. Little Harvey swelled his voice out big and gruff
and commanded him to throw out the express-box (the usual summons of
California robbers). The driver quietly obeyed. This little matter of busi-
ness having thus passed off pleasantly without any ill-feeling and with
true Californian nonchalance and gentlemanliness, the boy ordered the
driver to proceed. A third time he obeyed, and was presently out of sight
in the darkness, while the boy proceeded to break open the box.
The California Indians are so often charged with the most arrant cow-
ardice that it gives me much pleasure to record the above circumstance.
CHAPTER XX.
THE GUA-LA-LA.
This tribe is closely related to the Gallinomero, both belonging to the
ereat Pomo family, and they understand each other with very little difh-
culty. They are separated, however, by the low coast-mountains, a range
about twenty-five miles in width, as the Gualala live on the creek called by
their name, which empties into the Pacific in the northwest corner of Sonoma
County. Fort Ross, on the coast, is the seat of the old Russian Mission and
colony for the supply of Sitka; and here to-day within the line of the
stockade is the quaint old Greek chapel with its bell-tower from which on
Sunday rang out the imperious summons to prayers, for stern was the rule
of the Russian commandant. It is pretty well summed up in the saying,
““Go to church and say your prayers, or stay at home and take your dozen”.
Though these mongrel Russians have long since hoisted anchor and sailed,
and sailed, farther up the coast, until they quitted the continent altogether
a few years ago, and the Aleuts have gone in their baidarkas, and the
neophytes alone remain, debauched and dwindled by this pseudo-civiliza-
tion and this religion which was taught to them with the cat-tail and the
knout, there still remain traces of the Russian occupation among them.
After the rigorous rule of the Ivans, they are if possible a little more indolent
and a little more worthless than those who were subject to the Spaniards.
To this day they use the Russian word for ‘“milk”—malako—which they
have corrupted into meluko; and they sometimes use the Russian for “gun”,
which is sooshyo. But the grim Northmen have not left so many traces of
their physiognomy as did the Spaniards.
They construct their conical wigwams principally with slabs of red-
wood bark. I saw in the possession of a Gualala squaw a fancy work-basket,
186
GATHERING SEEDS—PREPARING ACORNS. 187
which evinced in its fabric and ornamentation quite an elegant taste and an
incredible patience. It was of the shape common for this species of basket—
that of a flat, round squash, to use a homely comparison—woven water-
tight of fine willow twigs. All over the outside of it the down of wood-
peckers’ scalps was woven in, forming a crimson nap which was variegated
with a great number of hanging loops of strung beads and rude outlines of
pine trees, webbed with black sprigs into the general texture. Around the
edge of the rim was an upright row of little black quail’s plumes gayly
nodding. There were eighty of these plumes, which would have required
the capture of that number of quails, and it must have taken at least one
hundred and fifty woodpeckers to furnish the nap on the outside. The
squaw was engaged three years in making it, working at intervals, and
valued it at $25. No American would collect the materials and make it for
four times the money.
Charles Hopps, a veteran pioneer, told me that such richly-ornamented
baskets were quite frequent among the California Indians, but the Ameri-
cans were seldom permitted to see them.
These Indians make considerable account of the wild oats growing so
abundantly in California, which they gather and prepare in the following
manner: The harvester swings a large, deep, conical basket under his left
arm, and holds in his right hand a smaller one furnished with a suitable
handle. When the oats are dead ripe they shatter out easily, and he has
only to sweep the small basket through the heads in a semicircle, bringing it
around to the larger one, into which he discharges the contents at every stroke.
When the hamper is full he empties it in a convenient place, and the squaws
proceed to hull the grain. They place a quantity in a basket, moisten it
slightly, then churn and stir the mass with sticks which causes the chaff to
accumulate on the surface, when they burn it off by passing firebrands over
it. This process is repeated until the grain is tolerably clean.
They then beat it into flour with stones, and roast it for pinole or man-
ufacture it into bread ; and the latter article is said by those who have eaten
it to be quite palatable and nutritious.
Like all their brethren they are also very fond of acorns, and the old
Indians still cling tenaciously to them in preference to the finest wheaten
188 THE GUALALA.
bread. To prepare them for consumption they first strip off the shells one
by one, then place a large basket without a bottom on a broad, flat stone,
pour into it the hulled acorns, and pound them up fine with long, slender,
stone pestles. I had often noticed these bottomless baskets before, and
wondered how the bottoms were worn out while the sides remained so good ;
but here I learned that they were so made for a good reason. The flour
thus obtained is bitter, puckery, and unfit to be eaten, but they now take it
to the creek for the purpose of sweetening it. In the clean, white sand they
scoop out capacious hollows, and with the palms of their hands pat them
down smooth and tight. The acorn flour is poured in and covered with
water. In the course of two or three hours the water percolates through
the sand, carrying with it a portion of the bitterness ; and by repeating this
process they render the flour perfectly sweet. The bread made from it is
deliciously rich and oily, but they contrive somehow to make it as black as
a pot, not only on the crust but throughout. Generally it is nothing but a
kind of panada or mush, cooked with hot stones in baskets.
In a time of scarcity they cut down the smaller trees in which the
woodpeckers have stored away acorns, or climb up and pluck them out
of the holes.
And here I will make mention of a kind of sylvan barometer which
Hopps told me he had learned from the Indians to observe. It is well known
that a species of California woodpecker (Melanerpes formicivorus) drills holes
in soft-wooded trees in autumn, into each of which the bird inserts an acorn,
in order that when it gets full of worms in winter he may pull it out and
devour the same. ‘These acorns are stowed away before the rainy season
sets in, sometimes to the amount of a half-bushel in a tree, and when they
are wetted they presently swell and start out a little. So always when a
rain-storm is brewing, the woodpeckers fall to work with great industry a
day or two in advance, and hammer them all in tight. During the winter,
therefore, whenever the woods are heard rattling with the pecking of these
busy little commissary clerks heading up their barrels of worms, the Indian
knows a rain-storm is certain to follow.
The Gualala also eat a considerable quantity of a wild potato, proba-
bly cammas, which they call hi-po, and which-is said to be quite good
A SYLVAN BAROMETER—ABORIGINAL ART. 189
eating when cocked and peeled. There is a certain locality on Gualala
Creek, called by them Hi-po-wi, which signifies ‘potato place”. Unlike
the Atlantic tribes, those on this coast seldom consume anything raw,
except dried smelt and salmon.
Clams and mussels are great dainties in the season. They also trap
ground-squirrels ‘and such small deer” by means of a noose attached to a
pole bent over, which springs up and hoists the animal into the air.
It will be observed by the traveler that the quality of aboriginal art,
as a general thing, is inferior in Southern and Central California to that in
the northern parts of the State. The tobacco-pipe affords a convenient illus-
tration. Among the Hupa it is made of beautiful manzanita or laurel wood,
and very elegantly, though plainly, carved into the form of a cigar-holder ;
it is as round as if turned with a lathe, and is frequently encircled at the
outer end with a thin rim or band of stone. But among these southern
tribes the rudest kind of a pipe answers all purposes. The Indian takes
any straight stick he happens to find and whittles out of it a stem a foot
long and as large as one’s little finger, with a rough lump of wood at the
end, which is burned or bored out a little to serve for a bowl, the whole
pipe being straight, so that the smoker must cant it up a good deal or lie on
his back.
While among the Gualala I had an excellent opportunity of witness-
ing the gambling game of wi and tep, and a description of the same, with
slight variations, will answer for nearly all the tribes in Central and South-
ern California.
After playing tennis all the afternoon they assembled in the evening
in a large frame-house of one room, made by themselves with tolerable
skill, and squatted on the ground around a fire, which it was the children’s
task constantly to replenish with shavings. There were about forty men,
women, and youngsters. They first divided off in two equal parties, and
then proceeded to make up the grand sweepstake. One Indian would lay
down a half dollar, and another of the opposite section would cover the
same. Another would deposit a blanket or a pair of trousers, and one of
the other side would match it with an article agreed to be of equal value.
A squaw would contribute a dress, or a chemise, or a string of beads, which
190 THE GUALALA.
would be covered as above, and so on until they deemed the stake large
enough to be worth their while. It consisted of $8 in silver coin, a large
hatfull of strings of shell-money, and an immense heap of clothing and
blankets, some of them new and very good, and it was worth at least $150.
They gamble with four cylinders of bone about two inches long, two
of which are plain and two marked with rings and strings tied around the
middle. The game is conducted by four old and experienced men, fre-
quently gray-heads, two for each party, squatting on their knees on oppo-
site sides of the fire. They have before them a quantity of fine dry grass,
and, with their hands in rapid and juggling motion before and behind them,
they roll up each piece of bone in a little bale, and the opposite party pres-
ently guess in which hand is the marked bone. Generally only one guesses
at a time, which he does with the word ‘‘tep” (marked one), ‘‘w7” (plain
one). Ifhe guesses right for both the players, they simply toss the bones
over to him and his partner, and nothing is scored on either side. If he
guesses right for one and wrong for the other, the one for whom he guessed
right is “out”, but his partner rolls up the bones for another trial, and the
cuesser forfeits to them one of the twelve counters. If he guesses wrong
for both, they still keep on, and he forfeits two counters.
There are only twelve counters, and when they have been all won
over to one side or the other the game is ended. Each Indian then takes
out of the stake the article which he or she deposited, together with that
placed on it, so that every one of the winning party comes out with double
the amount he staked.
All this is extremely simple, but it took me a long time to penetrate
into the whole mystery of it, such a wonderful amount of jugglery, mum-
mery, and manipulation do the Indians encompass it with. As soon
as they commence rolling up the bones in the hay they fall to whip-
ping their arms to and fro, before and behind them, swaying their bodies
backward and forward, and chanting ‘“Ha-man’, ha-man’, ha-man'!” or “Kai-
yai, kai-yai', kai-yai'!” or something similar, each chanting an independent
refrain, but keeping perfect time the while with his companion. Then
presently they bring up their hands to their breasts, with elbows akimbo,
twist their bodies as if in mortal agony, and reduce the chant to a mere
fo)
A GREAT GAMBLING GAME. 191
grunt ‘ Uh-uh’, uh-uh’, uh-uh'!” though they still keep perfect time with the
twisting motion. Then they interpolate divers and sundry highly super-
fluous shouts and roll their eyes, as if the very deuce were in them or a
violent attack of colonitis.
Besides that, the old mustaches who are about to guess put on a won-
derful amount of fancy flourishes. You shall see one with his eyes shining,
almost glaring, as if he were possessed, slowly stretch out his hand, gradu-
ally extend his forefinger, lean far forward, and hiss out fiercely between
his teeth, ‘‘wi-i-i-i/” or, more abruptly, “tep!” Sometimes he stretches
one arm out, shakes it violently a while, hissing through his teeth or chant-
ing in their strange, frenzied manner; then suddenly jerks it home as if
pulling in a sturgeon, and shoots out the other, whereupon the open palms
smite together in passing with a report almost like a pistol-shot, and out
hisses ‘“‘wi-i-i-i!” or “tep!”
All these things are conducted with that fanatic frenzy, that weird super-
fluity of unction, so characteristic of the California Indian, These multi-
plied manipulations and juggleries attract the stranger’s attention so much
that he forgets to notice the simple machinery of the matter for a long time.
After contemplating it for a full half-hour my mind was still in about as
lucid a condition as it is after reading the following quatrain:
“The twain that, in twining, before in the twine,
As twins were intwisted, he now doth untwine;
*Twixt the twain intertwisting a twine more between,
He, twirling his twister, makes a twist of the twine.”
But the Indians are so accustomed to all this blue fire that the circle of
spectators look on with that stolid and imperturbable gravity peculiar to
the race; and no matter how deeply any one may be involved in the issue,
one can discern no indications of itin his countenance. This singular game
was protracted until midnight, when we came away, and we learned next
morning that it was not concluded till two o'clock. One thing is praise-
worthy in the Indian gamblers, and that is the good nature with which they
accept all their losses. They very seldom quarrel over a game, and never
fight unless inflamed with the white man’s a’-ka bish-i-tu (bad water).
But for all kinds of gambling both sexes and all ages have a positive
passion. The Gualala wife of Hopps, although the mother of two little
192 THE GUALALA.
children, abandoned them utterly to her husband’s care, watching the game
until the ‘wee sma’ hours”, when it closed; and, in consequence, Hopps
was obliged to get breakfast next morning, a task to which he seemed to be
accustomed, and which he accepted with becoming resignation.
While sitting near these Gualala and looking at the circle of swarthy
faces which the staggering blazes redly lighted up, I was not a little im-
pressed with their resemblance to those calm, grand faces of old Egypt.
Probably the reader will smile here, and I am well aware how greatly
inferior these poor Diggers are to the mighty race who builded Cheops and
Karnak, and whose wisdom was a beacon even to Athenian philosophy;
but they are not much if any lower than the modern Fellahs who toiled
in the sand of the Suez Canal, and who are said to retain the features of
their great ancestors. I saw here the same scanty beard; the same full,
voluptuous lips; the same straight, strong noses, with thick walls and dilated
nostrils; the same broad cheek-bones; the same large and prominent eyes
in most; the same expression of restful and placid strength that I have seen
among the Egyptian sculptures of the Berlin Museums and the British
Museum of London. The differences are that the Indians open their eyes
more freely except in extreme old age, when they are shriveled and nearly
burnt out by the smoke, and have lower foreheads and more shrunken
cheeks.
It cannot be denied that there was a certain grave and savage strength
of feature, perhaps due to a slight infusion of Russian blood, in that mid-
night circle of dark faces, such as one would little expect to find in men so
entirely empty of mental force and originality, however imitative they may
have beens Such faces joined to such intellects go hard to demolish all
physiognomy theories. And yet these are elevated several degrees above
the lowest savages. They reckon their beads “by the two hundred”, as one
explained to me, up to a thousand, the word for which is tush-op’-te (literally
“five two-hundreds”). In marriage they observe strictly the Mosaic table
of prohibited affinities, accounting it “poison”, as they say, for a person to
marry a cousin or an avuncular relative. True, they occasionally practiced
infanticide formerly by their own confession, but they appear to have sacri-
ficed generaily only the weakest and deformed infants; and the amount of
CLEANLINESS—AUTUMNAL GAMES. 193
dancing which they can endure for ten or fifteen days together, day and
night, is astonishing, when we remember that the manner of dance practiced
by the men is terribly hard work; but like all savages they can stand the
fatigue of amusements much better than they can the steady, hard grub-
bing which gets bread and meat.
It is a curious fact that there is no word for “lazy” in their language,
and they have borrowed a word from the Spanish. Some qualities are
known by themselves, and some only by their opposites; hence, as the
Indian knew nothing of industry, he also knew nothing of laziness.
Besides their sweat-house heats and their regular cold-water baths in
the morning, they have another habit which is on the side of cleanliness ;
they sleep stark naked, even when they have learned to wear civilized gar-
ments. I was first made aware of this fact by an amusing incident. Near
the farmer’s house there was a campoody, and in the night the swine became
frightened and ran through the wigwams, and when we looked out we saw
them come shooting out from the opposite door-hole, first an Indian on all-
fours, then a pig, one as naked as the other. I afterward chanced to ob-
serve this fact several times in the central and southern parts of the State.
What little aboriginal clothing they wore was of a material not comfortable
to lie in; besides which, as they never washed it, it was a relief to lay it
off at night, and doubtless conducive to health, as they themselves argue.
Man and wife do not sleep apart, as in some Algonkin tribes, but lie down
snugly together in a kind of nest, and draw a hare-skin rug over them.
The chieftainship is hereditary unless the heir is incompetent, though its
functions are very nebulous, and their social system nowadays is patri-
archal. But as on Russian River the remnant of them is so shrunken and
narrowed down that it saddens their hearts, and they dwell all in one wig-
wam together for the comforting of their souls, though some who thus
abide in common are nowise related.
Eyery year brings around the great autumnal games, which continue a
matter of two weeks. Besides the spear dance, tennis, gambling, and the
like, they amuse themselves with divers other entertainments. One of them
is the devil dance, which is gotten up to terrify the women and children,
like the haberfeldtreiben of the Bavarian peasants. In the midst of the
13 2¢
194 THE GUALALA.
ordinary dances there comes rushing upon the scene an ugly apparition in
the shape of a man, wearing a feather mantle on his back reaching from
the arm-pits down to the mid-thighs, zebra-painted on his breast and legs
with black stripes, bear-skin shako on his head, and his arms stretched
out at full length along a staff passing behind his neck. Accoutered in
this harlequin rig he dashes at the squaws, capering, dancing, whooping ;
and they and the children flee for life, keeping several hundred yards
between him and themselves. If they are so unfortunate as to touch even
his stick all their children will perish out of hand.
The object of this piece of gratuitous foolery seems to be, as among
most of the Pomo tribes, merely to exhibit to the squaws the power of their
lords over the infernal regions and its denizens, and thereby remind them
forcibly of the necessity of obedience.
Their fashion of the spear dance is different from the Gallinomero.
The man who is to be slain stands behind a screen of hazel boughs with his
face visible through an aperture; and the spearman, after the usual pro-
tracted dashing about and making of feints, strikes him in the face through
the hole in the screen. He is then carried off, revives, ete.
The Gualala say the world was made by the Great Man above assisted
by the Old Owl; here we doubtless have a Russian graft on their aborigi-
nal belief. The lower animals were created first; man and woman after.
Around Fort Ross there is a fragment of the tribe called by the Gua-
lala, E-rus’-si; which name is probably another relic of the Russian occu-
pation.
THE E-RI’-0.
Such is the name given by the Spaniards to the tribe living at the
mouth of Russian River. Both they and the Gualala have more affinity
with the Pomo in language than with the Gallinomero, though a Potter
Valley Pomo must associate with them a few weeks before he can under-
stand them readily.
They practice cremation and give a reason for it which I had not heard
before, that is, if the dead are not burned they will become grizzly bears.
Probably some such reason prevails everywhere, though they are extremely ,
loth to give any reason. Hence cremation is an act of religion, of redemp-
tion, of salvation, which it were a heinous impiety to the dead to pretermit.
ERIO—SAN RAFAEL—CHOKUYEN. 195
In their autumnal games, which continue as long as the provisions they
have brought hold out, they have the spear dance, the dance of seven devils,
the black-bear dance, ete. The dance of seven devils is like the devil dance
of the Gualala, only there are seven devils instead of one, and they are more
devilish, having horns on their heads, forked tails, and the like. In the
black-bear dance they dress a man in a black bearskin and dance around
him with hideous noise, being naked, but zebra-painted with black, and
wearing coronals of long feathers. Possibly this may be an act of fetichism,
performed, as the Indians cautiously say of all such doings, “ for luck”;
because nearly all tribes regard the black bear in distinction from the griz-
zly as peculiarly of happy omen.
THE SAN RAFAEL INDIANS.
Under this name the Spaniards collected at the San Rafael Mission
most of the Indians of the peninsula who spoke a different language from
the Gallinomero. Among them were the Té-mal from whom Mount 'Tamal-
pais is named, and the Li-kat’-u-it, whose last great chief was Ma-rin’. Havy-
ing lost most of their aboriginal usages they are not of interest here.
THE CHO-KU-YEN.
The same is true of this tribe, who occupied Sonoma Valley, which
was named from one of their celebrated chiefs.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE ASH-O-CHEMI.
Probably this tribe would be more readily recognized under the Span-
ish name of Wappo. The Spaniards never forgot the keen and stinging
defeat inflicted by old Colorado upon them under the lead of General M.
G. Vallejo; and they embodied the qualities which worsted them in a
name which the Ashochimi use yet in preference to their own—Wappo the
Unconquerable. Although the battle-ground between them and the Span-
iards was on the edge of Big Plains, northeast of Healdsburg, their ancient
proper home was in the mountains. They ranged from the Geysers to the
Calistoga Hot Springs, inclusive, and in Knight’s Valley; and holding thus
two of the great natural wonders of the State they disputed for their pos-
session more heroically than did even the famous tribe of Yosemite.
The Geysers were discovered by means of one of their well-worn
trails; and they were early aware of the healing virtues of the Calistoga
waters. Their invalids were accustomed to wallow in the hot, steaming
mud and pools, receiving benefit therefrom into their bodies.
There is an ancient tradition that the Wappos were once at war with
their neighbors, and were by the latter hemmed in and straitly besieged in
the head of Calistoga Valley. They were at last so sore pressed with hun-
* ger that they were fain to resort to cannibalism, and stripping off the flesh
of their companions who died or were slain they boiled it in the springs.
From this horrid use arose the name Carne Humana sometimes given to
this celebrated spa by the early Spaniards. The Indians of to-day know
nothing of this story.
After the Spanish conquest had decimated and enervated their lowland
neighbors, the Gallinomero, the yet untainted Wappo descended from their
mountain homes upon them, and worsted them in a pitched battle. The
196
YUKI AND WAPPO LANGUAGES. 197
two tribes then entered into a treaty by which the Gallinomero ceded to
the Wappo a_portion of Russian River Valley about ten miles long north
and south, and reaching across from mountain-top to mountain-top. That
portion of the Wappo who occupied this tract became known as the Rin-
cons. In descending this valley, I was surprised to find a break in the
Pomo dialects, beginning about Geyserville and reaching down to Healds-
burg. It was accounted for by this recent Wappo conquest, by which a
foreign language had been interjected into the Pomo. With this exception
the Pomo dialects are continuous from the head to the mouth of Russian
River; while along the mountain chain east of it runs a parallel body of
language of nearly equal length, namely, the Yuki or Wappo.
That the Wappo and the Yuki are somewhat related is shown by the
similarity of some words, thus:
YUKI. HUCHNOM. WAPPO.
One. pong’-weh. pu-weh. pa-wah.
Two. é-peh. hé-peh.
Seven. o-pi-diin’. o-pi-hiin’.
To go. ko-at'-tah. chau-a-si.
Tree. oal. hoal.
Yesterday. sim. su’-ma.
This resemblance and manifest relationship between the two lan-
guages is singular, when we consider that they are separated by an inter-
val of at least sixty miles, with a branch of the Pomo (in the mountain
gap leading over from Ukiah to Clear Lake) interpolated between them.
This raises the question, Did the Yuki-Wappo once occupy the Russian
River Valley and yield it to its present occupants”? What was the course
of migration or conflict which some time or other in the past has disrupted
and broken asunder these two languages so clearly of a common origin ?
In regard of this treaty, Dr. E. Ely relates this: He was once out hunt-
ing in company with a Gallinomero, when he beat up a fine buck and shot
it. He told the Indian to shoulder the carcass and carry it home, but to
his great surprise the savage refused. It appeared that the buck lad
198 THE ASHOCHIMI.
dropped a few yards inside the Wappo territory, and though the Gallino-
mero had the powerful backing of a white man, and the lickerish sniff of
venison in his mind’s nostril, he dreaded the possible divulgence of the
matter, and the Wappos’ secret vengeance; so strictly are these Indian
treaties observed, through fear.
The Wappo presents a finer physique than the lowland Gallinomero.
He is shaded perceptibly lighter; has a more even and well-rounded head,
though it is large like the Yuki head; less angularity and coarseness of
feature; a much more prominent chin; a brighter eye; less protuberance
of belly.
The Wappo language, like its congener, the Yuki, is clear-cut, sharp,
and easy of expression to an American. The words are mostly short, and
seldom is there one that cannot be neatly and accurately spelled from the
Indian’s lips. Thus hell is “fire”; pi is “white”; poll is “earth”; and
hell-pi-poll (literally, ‘“ fire-white-earth”) is “ashes”. The agglutinative
feature prevails, as usual. Thus mi is “you”, md-deh is “father,” and
mai'-ah is “your father”. The verb takes a different form for the
past tense, but not for the future; thus chau-d-sy, chau-d-ky, chau-d-sy
are the three forms for the present, imperfect, and future of ‘‘go”. The
Wappo display great readiness in learning their neighbors’ tongues. Old
Colorado was said by the whites to have spoken in his prime fourteen lan-
guages and dialects. He is still alive, but blind, extremely shriveled and
helpless, probably a hundred years old—a pitiable shadow of a once great
warrior, who over and over again routed the brave Spaniards.
In the main the social customs of the Wappo are like those of the Gal-
linomero, but they do not commit parricide, and less frequently infanticide.
In regard to the latter, both whites and Indians have so often asserted its
existence that there is no room for incredulity ; but I have seen only one
man who could afiirm that he had actually witnessed the deed. A.S. Nelson
stated that he once saw a Wappo woman put her foot on the neck of her
healthy, new-born babe, and throttle it.
When a young man beholds a maiden who is beautiful in his eyes, he
goes to her father and lays down before him in the wigwam a quantity of
shell-money. Both of them maintain a profound silence. and the old man
J ] :
MARITAL RIGHTS—PLACATING THE OWL. 199
feigns to take no notice whatever of the money, though he surreptitiously
squints at it now and then. If he thinks there is not enough, or he does
not like the youth, after a sufficient time has elapsed to suit the aboriginal
ideas of dignity and red-tape, he reaches out his hands and returns it, and
the suitor goes away without a word, or remains and adds another string.
If accepted, the old Indian calls his daughter to him, joins her hand to her
lover’s, makes them sit down together on the ground before his knees, and
addresses them a few words of advice. Thereupon they arise and go away
husband and wife.
Their custom allows the wife unlimited rights in recovering a truant
husband, if only she has the muscular force to exercise them. A Wappo
once abandoned his wife at Cloverdale and journeyed down the river to
the ranch of William Fitch where he abode for a season with a second love.
But the lawful wife soon discovered his whereabouts, followed him up, con-
fronted him before his paramour, upbraided him fiercely, and then seized
him by the hair and led him away triumphantly to her bed and basket.
Some author has said that love warmed up is not enduring. This love
remained warm two years, when the Indian again met his enslaver and
again eloped.
They worship the owl and the hawk; that is they regard them as
potent and malignant spirits which they must conciliate by offerings and by
wearing mantles of their feathers. When a great white owl alights near a
village in the evening and hoots loudly, the head-man at once assembles
all his warriors in a council to determine whether Mr. Strix demands a life
or only money (for they understand him to say, like the California foot-pad,
‘“‘Your money or your life!”). If they incline to the belief that he demands
a life, some one in the village is doomed and will speedily die. But they
generally vote that he can be placated by an offering, and immediately a
quantity of shell-money and pinole must be brought in by the squaws,
whereupon the valorous trencher-men fall to and eat the pinole themselves,
and in the morning the head-man decorates himself with owl feathers, car-
ries out the shell-money with much solemn formality, and flings it into the air
under the tree where the owl perched. The hawk is appeased in a differ-
ent manner. A stuffed specimen of that bird is placed on top of a pole, and
200 THE ASHOCHIMI.
long strings of shell-beads are stretched from the ground up to its feet.
Then, decorated with mantles and head-dresses of hawks’ feathers, they
dance around the pole in a cirele, with chanting and various gestures, and
afterward solemnly commit the money to the flames.
In case of death the body is immediately incinerated, and the ashes
flung into the air. They believe that the spirit is thus borne aloft and flies
away to a grotto hard. by the sea at Punta de los Reyes. In this grotto is
a fire which burns without ceasing, and which no living being may behold
without being instantly stricken blind The disembodied spirit enters,
hovers over and around this fire for a season, then flutters forth again and
wings its flight over the ocean to the Happy Western Land.
They have a legend of the Deluge which runs as follows: Long ago
there was a mighty flood which prevailed over all the land and drowned
all living creatures save the coyote alone. He set himself to restore the
population of the world in the following manner: He collected together a
great quantity of owls,’ hawks’, eagles’, and buzzards’ tail-feathers, and with
these ina bundle he journeyed over the face of the earth and carefully
sought out all the sites of the Indians’ villages. Wherever a wigwam had
stood before the flood, there he planted a feather in the ground anid scraped
up muck around the same. In due time the feathers sprouted, took root,
grew up, branched and flourished greatly, finally turnmg into men and
women; and thus was the wor!d repeopled.
Like all mountaineers, they are much braver in pursuit of game than
the lowlanders. They snare even grizzly bears, and then boldly assault
and kili them with no weapons but sharp, fire-hardened sticks, with which
they pierce them. These snares are made of a species of wild flax (I saw
no samples of it), from which they twist out ropes, small, but very strong.
The following legend relating how the Geysers were discovered by
Indians pursuing a grizzly bear is taken from the San Francisco Bulletin:
A LEGEND OF THE GEYSERS.
In passing up the gorge in which are situated the Pluton Geysers you
will notice a human head carved in stone. It bears so striking a resem-
blance to a half-finished piece of statuary that the most casual observer
LEGEND OF THE GEYSERS. 201
asks its history. This is the legend as told by the Indians who inhabit the
Coast Range:
The discovery of the Geysers is a comparatively modern event.‘ From
the time when the memory of man runneth not to the contrary” peaceful
tribes of Indians inhabited the rich, luxuriant valley of Russian River and
its tributaries. With hunting and fishing, with clover, wild oats, and acorns,
with the various roots, berries, and fruits provided by Nature, they lived a
happy, contented life. The dense chaparral which covers the mountains
and lines the canons of the region surrounding the Geysers effectually con-
cealed these wonderful springs. It was since the Spaniards and Mexicans
began to settle the country and fatten their immense herds upon the rank
herbage that the Indians were compelled to put forth greater exertions for
food. Two of their young men were hunting on the south side of the river,
below where Cloverdale now stands, when they caught sight of an unusually
large grizzly bear. Simultaneously they fired their sharp-barbed arrows
into the monster's side. He dropped as if dead, but well knowing it to be
a habit of the grizzly to fall to the ground upon receiving the slightest
wound, they again let fly their flint-headed shafts, and again struck the
bear. Sorely wounded, the animal instinctively staggered toward the thick
underbrush, leaving a trail of blood behind. Sure of their game, the hunt-
ers followed the blood stains into the chaparral and up the canon. Here
and there the weary monster lay down to rest for a moment, and upon
arising left a gory pool to attest the severity of his hurt. The thews and
sinews of the California grizzly almost give him a charmed life. The eager
hunters would several times have given up the chase, but fresh indications
of the bear’s weakness, the hope of so rich a prize, and the fear of the ridi-
cule of their companions, spurred them forward. The wounded animal
never once swerved from a direct course up the canon. Mile after mile he
tottered straight forward, although his fast-ebbing life frequently caused
him to stumble and fall. Just as his merciless pursuers were ready to turn
back, baffled and discouraged, they saw him writhing in agony on a little,
open grassy plot half a mile distant. Most of their route, until now, had
been through close-timbered forests, thick-set with chaparral and scrub-oak.
The sun had moved far down the heavens, and the lofty western mount-
ain shut out his beams from the gorge. At sight of their dying game, the
202 THE ASHOCHIMI.
Indians gave a loud, exultant shout. The grizzly startled by the sound
rose from the ground, and with the last glimmering ray of life plunged into
the ravine ahead. Running across the intervening space, the hunters
saw his lifeless body in the bottom ef the gorge. In their eager haste they
had not noticed the thousand minute jets of steam issuing from the hillside,
uor did they hear the hoarse, rushing sound that filled the canon with a
continuous roar, until just as they reached the body.
Halting, amazed, they found themselves standing on the brink of the
Witches’ Caldron, in the midst of the hissing, seething Geysers. One hor-
rified, ghastly look at the smoky, steaming hillsides; one breath of the puff-
ing, sulphurous vapor; one terrified glance at the trembling, springy earth,
and the frightened hunters darted back down the canon. With stoical
skepticism the aged chief and council listened to the tale the hunters told
as the tribe gathered around the camp-fire. Earth that smoked! Water
that boiled and bubbled without fire! Steam that issued from holes in the
ground with a noise like the rushing of the storm-wind! Impossible! But
the two young braves were noted for courage and truthfulness, and at last
they prevailed on a score of their fellows to return with them. It was all
true. There lay the dead bear by the black, seething waters that were
hotter than fire could make them. After a thorough examination, the medi-
cine-men concluded that the strange mineral waters must have rare healing
properties. Booths of willows were erected over the jets of steam, and the
sick laid thereon. The canon became a favorite resort of the red men, and
all the Coast Range tribes came hither with their invalids | Many wonder-
ful cures were effected, and yet, occasionally, things happened that con-
vineed the superstitious medicine-men that the place was under the control
of an evil spirit.
Finally, one cloudy night, a strange, rumbling sound rose through the
darkness, and the earth trembled violently. After that no one approached
the spot for many days.
It is a common belief among the Coast Indians that evil spirits fre-
quently dwell within the bodies of grizzlies. It was now universally believed
that the spirit of the slaughtered bear had charge of the Geysers. There
were many sick and dying with a strange plague, or pestilence that had
suddenly appeared among the tribe. Something must be done. Many
HEALING THE SICK. 203
urged a return, at all hazards, to the medicinal springs; others held that
the angry demon of the gorge had sent the pestilence upon them. At last
a gray-haired seer whose hand was skilled in all cunning craft was per-
suaded to try to appease the spirit by making a graven image near the
Witches’ Caldron. Enough of the idolatrous traditions of their ancestors
were remembered to enable them to have faith in this strange attempt at
propitiation. Day after day the good old sculptor went all alone to the
cafion, and chiseled away the rock until the semblance of a human face
appeared. As the work neared completion, he often lingered later, in his
anxiety to finish the statue. It was believed that when the task was entirely
ended the demon would retire, and let the people be healed. A few more
days and the finishing strokes would be made on the figure. Every one
was full of hope The old man was working at the dawn, and when the
evening came and the twilight shadows stole down the mountain and up
the ravine he had not returned. Suddenly a weird, hollow moan seemed
to tremble on the shuddering air, and at the next instant the earth shook
so violently that the cliffs toppled from their base. The terrible shocks
were felt several times during the night, and when the sun arose the old
seer was gone from earth. The cold, stony face of the image alone
remained. Not the slightest trace was ever discovered of the faithful sculp-
tor, yet during the night new springs had burst forth three-quarters of a
mile down the river. Here the sick were brought, and from that day to
the present time the Indians used only the lower springs. Scaffolds are
raised above the steam-jets -three or four feet, and willows and brush are
laid across. On these the sick are placed, and the mineral vapors encircle
and heal them.
Years after, the white men came to the great valley of the Russian
River, and in due time were guided to the springs. The Indian guides
would not go farther than the lower springs, but the pale-faces found the
image still guarding the ravine. Enterprise and love of gain have built_a
beautiful hotel across from the Geysers, and hundreds of tourists annually
flock thither.
The Indians, however, firmly believe that the wrathful demon still holds
sway, and they can never be induced to approach the gorge of the main
Geysers.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE KA-BLNA-PEK.
In the Clear Lake Basin the Indians may be divided into two main bodies,
those on the west side and those on the east. On the west they are related
in language slightly to the Pomo; on the east, equally slightly, to the Pat-
win. In the northwest corner of the basin a constant communication was
kept up with the Pomo; hence the villages about Lakeport speak a Pomo
dialect, and are properly included with that large nation; but all the dwell-
ers around the lake should be enumerated as distinct peoples, being divided
into the two bodies above mentioned. Big Valley and Cobb Valley were
the principal abode of the western lacustrine tribes; Héschla Island and
the narrow shore adjacent that of the eastern.
The Kéa-bi-na-pek living on lower Kelsey Creek may be taken as
representative of the western division, though they formed only one village
of the many in Big Valley. The myriads of fish in the lake and the abund-
ance of acorns supported a dense population in this valley, estimated by
the pioneers at many thousands. They were brave and independent mount-
aineers, even more infinitesimally subdivided and less coherent, if possible,
than is the wont of the California Indians. They had no chiefs of general
and large authority ; nothing but head-men or captains of villages.
Coming up from Russian River to Clear Lake one receives at first the
impression that the natives here are a sickly race on account of their lighter,
brassy color and longer faces. Indeed some pioneers insist stoutly that
they are altogether a different race from the “ Diggers”, perhaps a remnant
of some ancient, indigenous people who were forced into these mountain
valleys by an invasion of the lowlands. It will be shown further along that
this theory is erroneous. Still they always were and yet are a much finer
204
AN INDIAN BARBECUE—AN ARCHITECTURAL COMMISSION. 205
race than the Russian River tribes, being tall and stalwart, often of a noble
physical mould, weighing not unfrequently 180 to 200 pounds. They have
a quicker apprehension, readier imitation, and a brighter intelligence than
their neighbors on the river, and they are as brave as the Wappo. They
are less dependent on the whites, more frequently cultivate their own
patches of ground, or hire out for a wage. Not long ago they held a bar-
becue whereat an ox and several sheep were roasted whole, and white
spectators affirm that they ate there as fine pastry, puddings, and roast beef,
all prepared by Indian women, as they ever saw at an American party; and
that the tables were laid with the cleanest of linen and a full service of
crockery. Better than all, the leading Indians banished strong drinks from
the place, and formed a police force from their own numbers to preserve
order. Whenever a drunken or disorderly fellow intruded on the premises,
these officials arrested him at once, carried him out bound hand and foot,
and laid him carefully away behind the bushes to cool off.
In the spring of 1872, on the occasion of a great festival to be described
shortly, the Kabinapek dispatched a commission who traveled two or three
months among the surrounding tribes examining different styles of assem-
bly-house architecture. On their return they reported voluminously in a
council, and it was voted to build the new assembly-house on a model
different from anything previously seen on Clear Lake. Instead of con-
structing it in the shape of a blunt cone, only three or four feet excavated in
the ground, they dug a circular cellar ten or twelve feet deep, timbered it up
around the sides, and roofed it over nearly flat and level with the earth. It
is common to say that the California Indians never change any of their
customs except at the instance of the Americans. Whether this style of
assembly-house was any improvement or not, I do not know; but it was
wholly novel and of their own contriving.
They take three kinds of fish, mostly in the creeks in the spawning
season, for they fish comparatively little in the lake. The lake whitefish
furnishes by far the greatest proportion of the catch. In the spring they
ascend the creeks in such vast numbers that the Indians, by simply throw-
ing in a little brushwood to impede their motion, can literally scoop them
out. In 1872 there was a remarkable run. I arrived in the valley too late
206 THE KABINAPER.
to see it, but the sides and bottom of Kelsey Creek were yet strewn and
malodorous with fish that had perished by reason of the crowding.
The Kabinapek language is extremely rugged, hirsute, and guttural, so
that I was deterred from doing anything beyond getting a meager vocabu-
lary; and even these few words were very difficult to spell. ‘That it is an
offshoot of the Pomo is clearly proven by the fact that it possesses in
common with it a few such words of hourly occurrence as “water”, “dog”,
“deer”, ete. But the numerals are changed beyond all recognition. The
personal pronouns are radically the same, but have been gutturalized by
these mountaineer fish-eaters.
There is presented in this tribe an interesting but unanswerable inquiry.
As the Kabinapek and the other villages are descended from the Pomos,
their language must once have been identical with that spoken on Russian
River. Let us suppose that the parent language had 3,000 words. At
this day, so widely have the two resultant languages departed from the
original that, judging from the limited vocabularies I took, they have not
above 100 in common. How long would it take each of them to change
1,500 words beyond the recognition of the other? It must have taken
many hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
About the only act which can be considered religious is the pu-¢-si,
“raising the dead”. It is the same as the custom which prevails on the east
side, and will be described in speaking of that people.
Like all California Indians, these are extremely sensual. In the
spring when the wild clover is lush and full of blossoms and they are eating
it to satiety after the famine of winter, they become amorous. This season,
therefore, is a literal Saint Valentine’s Day with them, as with the natural
beasts and birds of the forest.
A peculiarity of this tribe is the intense sorrow with which they mourn
for their children when dead. Their grief is immeasurable. They not
only burn up everything that the baby ever touched, but everything that
they possess, so that they absolutely begin life over again—naked as they
were born, without an article of property left. A young Indian was
drowned at Lower Lake, and so great and bitter was the grief of his mother
over his untimely death that she besought her friends to take away her life
FQ:TICIDE—A SCENE OF CREMATION. 207
also. Moved by her passionate sorrow and her entreaties, they complied
with her wishes; she was hanged, and then laid upon the funeral pyre
beside her son, and together they were burned. Such is the tradition.
It is very generally asserted that unlike the river tribes they never
committed infanticide before the advent of our countrymen. When whites
took Indian women for wives, they were often mortified at the receipt of
little pledges of love; and to their lasting shame and infamy be it written,
(this fact is well authenticated,) they compelled them either to give them
away or destroy them outright. But even if they were not originally
addicted to infanticide, they were sometimes guilty of fceticide, which was
accomplished, not by drugs, but by violent physical means. This fact was
stated to me by an accomplished lady who had lived among them many
years with her husband.
They are singular also in their devotion to the formality of incinera-
tion. ‘Two Indians were once drowned in the lake near Kelsey, and their
relations searched for them assiduously for weeks that they might reduce
their bodies to ashes, without which they believed they would never behold
the Happy Western Land. A lady described to me a scene of cremation
which she once witnessed, and instead of the revolting exhibitions seen
among some tribes it was conducted with seemly and mournful tenderness.
The body was carefully wrapped in blankets, laid upon the pyre, and the
torch applied, and as the flames advanced fresh blankets were continually
thrown over the body to conceal its loathsomeness from sight until it was
consumed. A woman, one of the chief mourners, sat at the head, with her
eyes upturned to heaven, chanting, mourning, and weeping. The mother,
bowed down and broken with grief, with close-cropped head, and face
disfigured with the blackest pitch, as the emblem of mourning, sat at the
foot, lamenting and lacerating her face until she was exhausted. She then
rose, tottered away and fell at the feet of her husband who encircled her
with his arm and tenderly stroked down her hair while he mingled his
tears with hers. An Indian counts it no unmanliness to weep for his friends.
They believe, like all others, that the soul can be disembodied and set
free by the agency of fire alone; hence the necessity of burning. Hence,
also, when a person of a goodly fatness is burning, and his flesh sputters
208 THE KABINAPEK.
and pops in the flames, the spectators shout the loudest, believing that
his spirit is enjoying a happy release.
The Kabinapek have a vague conception of a Supreme Being, whom
they call Kin’-tash-i; but, as usual, he is a wholly negative person who
takes no part or interest in mundane affairs—evidently a foreign graft upon
their cosmogony.
AN INDIAN REVIVAL.
From time immemorial it has been the custom of the Clear Lake In-
dians to celebrate a large harvest of acorns, or a heavy run of fish in the
spring, with a season of dancing, protracted for two or three weeks, an
occasion in which the religious element manifestly mingled. For some
years there had been neither one, hence no opportunity for the great dance;
and the assembly chambers wherein they were held have partly been
burned by accident, partly fallen into disuse at the instance of the Ameri-
cans. In the autumn of 1871 the acorns were plenty, and the next spring
the fish ascended the creeks in unprecedented numbers ; and now there was
double occasion for the long-neglected festival. The old Indians, who still
clung tenaciously to the ancient traditions had often upbraided the younger
generation for their impiety, and now they renewed with redoubled force
their exhortations to them to rebuild the fallen assembly-houses, the edes
labentes deorum, and return to the pious and time-honored usages of their
ancestors.
It was done. With all the ardor of the Israelites rebuilding the temple
of Solomon the young men fell to cutting and peeling timbers, excavating
pits, timbering them up, ete. As above recorded, a commission was sent
out to study the best models. Ina short time the new assembly-houses
were completed and then they fell to dancing all around the lake with
great enthusiasm. Night after night the assembly-houses sounded to the
songs of the singers and the monotonous clacking of the sticks. Though
the old Indians had persisted that their neglect of the dance was bringing
on them the displeasure of the spirits, yet they had been healthy all these
vears; but now they began to cough and wheeze withal. When they went
naked, these sweat-house heats were undoubtedly good, but after they had
learned to wear clothes they were injurious. The Kabinapek danced so
A PILGRIMAGE OF THE TRIBES. 209
hard that two of them yielded up the ghost and went to the Happy Western
Land.
By that subtle system of telegraphy which exists among them, all the
surrounding tribes heard of the great revival of antique customs at Clear
Lake; they heard of the singing and the dancing, of the fish and the eating
thereof. About that time the Lone Pine earthquake occurred, and some ot
their prophets dreamed dreams and beheld visions of another which was to
follow and destroy all the whites. By fleeing to Clear Lake the Indians
would escape the dies ire. More than that, in all waters except those of
the lake there was a comparative scarcity. Hundreds of Indians round-
about flocked to the lake to have a good time, a good mess of fish, and by
the sight of a multitude of their race refresh the memory of better days.
The coming earthquake was a vague matter, and disturbed them little; the
fishing and the dancing were rare good things.
In all directions they came, but especially from Russian River. Half-
way over the mountains from Cloverdale isa station called Ellis’s Ranch,
which they passed in almost continual procession. One stalwart Wappo
slung a rawhide band across his forehead and down over his shoulders, like
a swing, wherein his old and decrepit father sat and rode, clasping his sen
around the neck. Another bore two aged squaws this way, carrying first
one to a resting-place, then returning for the other. In painful contrast to
these instances of filial devotion, the Wappos of Knight’s Valley abandoned
a squaw thought to be 120 years old, in the valley, and she would have
perished but for the compassion of Americans.
Toiling over the mountains on this pious pilgrimage they would arrive,
faint and weary at this half-way house. Ragged and insolent young louts
jingling their huge bell-spurs on their naked heels, two of them, perhaps,
great, strapping fellows, bestriding the least mite of a mustang, and riding
like Jehu up hill and down dale, would approach the gate and impudently
demand food and tobacco. In beautiful contrast to this was the conduct
of a squaw, who with her little one had no victual for the journey.
Seeing the good matron of the station approach with a pan of milk, she
ran and fell down on her knees before her, looked up into her face, and
clasped her hands before her in silent thankfulness.
14 1
210 THE KABINAPER.
Thus they flocked to Clear Lake by hundreds. Some of them being
‘‘apprenticed” to white men, had written leaves of absence and_ passes,
ranging from twelve to twenty days. Like children, they greatly over-
stayed their time. With an Ethiopian passion for the dance, all these
hundreds yielded themselves up to it with an absolute infatuation, and
week after week slipped away unperceived. The time was going by for
the planting of their own small crops and those of the whites who depended
on their labor. Their best friends earnestly warned them to have done.
Men and timid women were scared at the unwonted multitude of dusky
faces in a feeble settlement. Citizens banded together in places and chased
them away. ‘The atmosphere began to be big with rumors of a removal to
the dreaded reservation; but this cry of “wolf” had been so often sounded
that the savages laughed it to scorn. The fascinations of the dance were
irresistible, and Indians that had formerly been so industrious as to inspire
their patrons with high hopes that they were reclaimed to civilization now
danced all night for weeks together and slept all day. The haleyon
days of savagery had returned, with all their pleasant and lazy witcheries.
But at last, after several months had elapsed, and some in a neighboring
valley had actually been sent to a reservation, better counsel prevailed, the
dancers gradually dispersed, and the whites around Clear Lake once more
slept secure.
It only remains now to describe this dance, as I witnessed it one night
among the Kabinapek Some acquaintances and myself were on the
ground at nightfall, but it was fully an hour before anything was done
toward collecting the dancers, who after so many weeks’ frenzied excite-
ment were extremely sluggish until they got enlivened in the dance. A
herald finally mounted half-way up the low dome of the assembly-hall, and
with a hard and rattling loudness of voice made proclamation substantially
as follows, uttering a sentence about once a minute :
“He, come to the sweat-house! He, make haste to the dance! THe,
make haste, everybody! He, be not angry with the strangers He, steal
nothing from the strangers! He, give them plenty of food! He, make
haste to the dance, men and women! He, do not steal the strangers’ things
while they dance !”
MIDNIGHT EXERCISES. 211
By “strangers” was meant any Indians who did not live in the Kabin-
apek village. He proclaimed thus for about a half-hour, using a vast deal
of repetition, and then he descended. It was about half an hour yet before
anybody responded, when the dancers began to assemble, gliding with slow
and noiseless tread through the darkness. It was fully an hour before a
low humming inside announced that the performances were about to begin,
whereupon we bowed our heads half-way to the ground, and advanced sev-
eral feet along a narrow, sloping passage, and found ourselves in the cir-
cular arena of the assembly-hall. There were about sixty persons in it,
squatting around in concentric circles, leaving a central space about 20 feet
in diameter for the performers. There was a bright fire burning right at
the entrance, and as there was only one other small air-hole at the opposite
side the atmosphere was already horribly foul, and we had to stop in the
passage and squat as low as possible to prevent ourselves from being stifled.
The orchestra, eight in number, all young men, were squatted together
opposite the entrance, four facing four. Between them was a hollow slab,
serving as a kind of drum, to be beaten by a drummer with the naked foot,
and each of them held in his right hand a little stick, split half-way down,
to be used as a clapper in keeping time. The dancers were all young
women, who stood in a curved row in front of the orchestra. All of them
were decked out in their bravest apparel, and dancers and orchestra alike
had a single ornament, which was the only thing aboriginal in their cos-
tume. The long feathers of the yellowhammer (the sacred ornamental
bird of California) were evenly laid together, butt to tip alternately, and
strung on strings, forming a bandeau about 4 inches wide and 15 long,
which was passed across the forehead and tied behind the head with strings
fastened to it half-way back, leaving the ends to flop backward and for-
ward over the ears.
The orchestra hummed several little choruses, accompanied by the
clacking of the sticks, before the dancers took their places. Then they
sung a chorus, as follows:
Yo-hi-o-he-i, (four times,)
Le-lo-mu-he,
Hu-di-go.
In this the dancers joined, sometimes facing the orchestra, sometimes
212 THE KABINAPEK.
the audience, but each one always keeping in place. Like everything
they sung, it has no meaning. They all sung in a high falsetto voice,
the women especially, so that they were less agreeable to listen to than
the men. The sharp, monotonous clacking of the sticks, and the dull
tunk, tunk of the slab-drum were execrable. I am no judge of harmony,
except to know that they kept perfect time, and am, as Wordsworth says
of himself, ‘‘in music all unversed;” but I have listened to simple melodies
that affected me even to tears; and I declare without hesitation that there
was one short passage in this chorus which when chanted by the men
alone was one of the most moving I ever heard. Those three rude, bar-
baric, and wholly unintelligible syllables, hu-di-go, were trilled and pro-
longed out with a sweet, soft, and wild melodiousness that I shall not forget
to my dying hour. Never have I so regretted my inability to write down
music by the ear, that I might make good this assertion by submitting the
passage to musical critics.
About this time appeared on the scene the two performers, who were
the principal characters of the evening. They wore richly ornamented
and beaded buckskin tights, reaching from the hips half-way to the knees;
mantles composed of long, black eagles’ feathers netted together in succes-
sive courses, sweeping gracefully down from the shoulders to the knees,
but leaving the arms free; and brilliantly bespangled head-dresses of
feathers and beads. On the breast and face they were smeared with a
number of black stripes, crossing in squares. But for this absurd use of
the charcoal they would have presented really splendid figures, their
smooth, round, finely molded limbs setting off the spangles handsomely.
Their feet were bare.
They danced before the audience in lively fashion, sometimes stamping
with one foot with great force, sometimes chasing one the other around the
fire in a kind of hippity-hop, their magnificent mantles sailing and rustling,
while their heads wagged from side to side, and their arms were brandished
aloft in free and graceful gestures. The suppleness and agility of their
softly-rounded, full, almost feminine forms were wonderful. | Notwith-
standing their violent motions, the eye perceives no hard, knotted contor-
COMPLIMENTS OF THE DANCE. PA ie)
tions of the muscles as in an American athlete; all that rapid play of the
tendons goes on beneath the skin with a snaky smoothness and strength.
They finally created quite a dust, and an aged “super” went around
with a basket of water and sprinkled the course. At the termination of
each chorus they would end off with a prodigious stamping, then suddenly
wheel and bow to the women dancers with a profundity and elegance that
would have done the highest honor to Chesterfield. But very unfortu-
nately the women would wheel at the selfsame time toward the orchestra
and slightly incline their heads, so that they would receive this magnificent
compliment of the two performers, not facing toward them, but quite the
reverse! The audience would then applaud with a loud “ho”! After each |
chorus, which would occupy about five minutes, there would be a pause of |
about a minute. Each chorus was chanted five or six times over, then
some other was taken up. Another that I wrote down was as follows:
Hu-pé, hu-pé, hu-pé, la-ha.
The men would chant this once, then the women, then both together,
then this together:
Hu-pe-li, hu-pe-la.
Once more I must assert, at whatever risk, that there were occasional
passages in these barbaric chants which were very beautiful indeed.
We lingered till midnight, going out frequently to avoid being asphyx-
iated, and then took our departure. How these performers could endure
to keep up such violent leaping and stamping for five hours longer, as they
did, passes comprehension.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MAKH/-EL-CHEL.
This is the name by which they are known among the surrounding
Indians and the Americans, but whether it originated with themselves I
cannot state. Their principal, and formerly only, abode was an island on
the east side of Clear Lake, a few miles above Lower Lake. In their
language hésch’-la signifies “island”, which has been corrupted and applied
both to the island and the tribe; and our undiscriminating countrymen
pronounce it with great impartiality Hessler, Kessler, Hesley, Kelsey, and
several other ways.
The Makh’-el-chel are in some respects a remarkable race. So fine
and almost Caucasian is their physiognomy, so light their color, so quick
their intelligence, so exclusive and haughty are they (or once were), that
many persons refuse to believe they are of the same blood with the
degraded and miserable beings on the Lower Sacramento. Pioneers with
a good eye for the fine points in a man, and knowing nothing of the subtle
laws of philology, insist that they cannot be “Diggers”, but must be a
remnant of some previous, ancient race. But the indications of language
cannot be disregarded. Words of such common occurrence as “water”,
“earth”, ‘ panther”, and the personal pronouns, which they have in common
with the Patwin or Wintiin, could not have been borrowed from the latter,
but must have come to them by inheritance. They are undoubtedly
descended from the Sacramento Valley tribes, and are a fine illustration of
the ennobling effects of a mountain climate:
They are singular also for their exclusiveness. They are one of the ~
very few tribes who would put a woman to death for committing adultery
with or marrying an American. All blue-eyed and fair-haired children they
destroyed without remorse, regarding the whites with the same disdain that
214
TRADITIONS—LANGUAGE—MANUFACTURES. 215
the Chinese do. In an early number of the Overland Monthly, under the
title of “The King of Clear Lake”, the reader will find an interesting story
bearing on this feature. It relates how the chief, Salvador, hanged one of
his subjects for adultery with a.white man; and it has an additional interest
as showing that in this tribe the chief exercised the power of life and death,
which was unusual. But even among the Makhelchel the title “king” is
hardly appropriate.
In their pride and haughtiness they insist on an indigenous origin for
themselves, and refuse to believe that their mortal ancestors ever dwelt in
any other country, though they admit that the Great Man, their divine
creator, came from the west in a remote antiquity, and formed them from
the soil of their beloved island. The primordial fire also came from the west,
instead of the east, as in the traditions of other tribes. Further, they relate
a curious legend about a glorious and resplendent beast which once existed
in the west, and which no man, no living being, could destroy or injure.
Its name was pa’-teh, from which it would seem to have been related to the
panther, pat'-ta.
Their language is like the Kabinapek phonetically, even more harsh and
difficult. It is full of hissing sounds, and at times there occurs a kind of
click, apparently like that in certain African languages, produced by the
tongue against the roof of the mouth Sometimes a word is preceded both
by a hissing and a click—a combinatiou almost impossible for an American
to imitate.
They construct cabins of slender willow poles set upright in the ground,
with others crossing them horizontally, forming a square lattice-work. In the
season of fish-drying each one of these apertures, hundreds in number, has
a fish stuck in it—a singular spectacle. Wild fowl are slain by means of
bullets of hard-baked clay projected from a sling, which they handle with
great dexterity. They construct boats of tule, with indifferent skill. First,
two or three long tule-stalks are sewed together for a keel, and hammered
hard. Then others are laid alongside of them, each one overlapping the last
a little in length, sewed on and beaten. When finished the bottom is twenty
or thirty feet long, elliptical in shape, sharp at the ends, three or four layers of
tule thick, and all hammered hard and water-tight. The sides are then
216 THE MAKNHELCHEL.
built up perpendicular, but only one or two tules thick, and not ribbed.
After being in the water awhile the thick bottom becomes water-logged, and
if the boat is capsized it rights itself in an instant, like a loaded cork. One of
these boats will last five years, and carry several men or a ton of merchandise
in a heavy sea. The Makhelchel are bold watermen and skillful fishers.
Yet they take most of their fish in the creeks in spring, which they frequently
do by treading on them with their naked feet in the crevices of the rocks.
They burn the dead, and always if possible on their native island.
W. C. Goldsmith described a funeral he once witnessed, where a squaw was
conducted from the main-land where she had died, across the lake by night,
followed by a long procession of boats in single file, carrying torchlights,
and filled with mourning women, chanting and wailing as the cortege moved
with noiseless paddles across the water—a mournful and impressive spec-
tacle. The relations do no mourning, which is performed by hired mourners.
But on the occasion of a funeral of some friend of Salvador, an irreverent
American offered him a dollar if he would ery, whereupon the avaricious
old chief moved by the seductive coin lifted up his voice and wept, though
he may have done it from grief at the insult. As all good Indians are burned,
so the wicked are “holed”. Their neighbors on the east, the Patwin, whom
they heartily despise, always bury; hence the greatest contumely these
people can offer an Indian is to ‘thole” him.
Once this tribe had occasion to make a treaty with the Cache Creek
Indians for the privilege of fishing in a certain creek. Four captains, two
for each tribe, squatted down together on some deer-skins, surrounded by a
great circle of their followers. After an impressive silence of some minutes
one of them lifted up his voice and chanted without ceasing for nearly three-
quarters of an hour, gesturing the while toward the four quarters of heaven.
Then one of the opposite party took up the refrain for an equal length of
time. Altogether they were several hours crooning a wholly unmeaning
farrago, simply as a solemnization of a matter already consummated. All
such treaties as these they observe with religious scrupulosity—until they
are strong enough to break them.
One of their modes of medical practice deserves mention for its naive
exhibition of human nature. The patient is wrapped tight in skins and
AN INSTANCE OF HEROIC GALLANTRY. 2
blankets, deposited with his feet to the fire, a stake driven down near his
head, and strings of shell-beads stretched from it to his ankles, knees,
wrists, elbows, ete. hese strings of money exercise the same magical effect
on the valetudinary savage that a gold “twenty” does, placed in the palm
of the doctor, upon the dyspeptic pale-face. The cunning Esculapian adjusts
the distance of the stake, and the consequent length of the strings, accord-
ing to the wealth of the invalid. If he is rich, then by the best divining
and scrutation of his art the stake ought to be planted about five feet distant ;
if poor, only one or two. After he has powwowed sufficiently around the
unfortunate person to make a sound man sick, or deaf at least, he appro-
priates the money.
One day in early spring seven Indians and a young squaw of this tribe
set out in a small boat to cross the lake, near the upper end, and the boat
was capsized three miles from land. They righted it, but as the lake was
rough they could not bail it out, and while full of water it would not sup-
port more than one person. The men put the girl in and held on the edges
of the boat, supporting themselves by swimming until exhausted and
chilled through by the cold water, and then dropped off and sank one by
one. ‘They showed no thought of disputing the young woman’s exclusive
right to the boat, and she was saved by their heroic self-sacrifice.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PAT-WIN’.
On the middle and lower Sacramento, west side, there is one of the
largest nations of the State, yet they have no common government, and not
even a name for themselves. They have a common language, with little
divergence of dialects for so great an area as it embraces, and substantially
common customs, but so little community of feeling that the petty sub-
divisions have often been at the bitterest feud. For the sake of convenience,
and as a nucleus of classification, I have taken a word which they all employ,
pat-win', signifying ‘‘ man”, or sometimes “ person ”.
Antonio, chief of the Chen’-po-sel, a very intelligent and traveled
Indian, gave me the following geographical statement, which I found to be
correct so far as I went. In Long, Indian, Bear, and Cortina Valleys, all
along the Sacramento from Jacinto to Suisun, inclusive, on Cache and Puta
Creeks, and in Napa Valley as far up as Calistoga, the same language is
spoken, which any Indian of this nation can understand. Strangely, too,
the Patwin language laps over the Sacramento, reaching in a very narrow
belt along the east side from a point a few miles below the mouth of Stony
Creek down nearly to the mouth of Feather River. In the head of Napa
Valley were the Wappo, and in Pope and Coyote Valleys there was spoken
a language now nearly, if not quite, extinct.
The various tribes were distributed as follows: In Napa Valley the
Napa; on the bay named after them the Su-i-sun’, whose celebrated chief
was Solano. In Lagoon Valley were the Ma-lak’-ka; on Ulatus Creek and
about Vacaville the Ol-u-l4-to ; on Puta Creek at the foot-hills the Li-wai’-
to. (These last three names were given to me by a Spaniard and I could
find no Indians living by whom to verify them, except that the aboriginal
name of Puta Creek was Li-wai’.) On Lower Puta Creek they were called
218
BOUNDARIES AND POPULATION. 219
by the Spaniards, on account of their gross licentiousness, Putos, and the
stream Rio de los Putos. In Berryesa Valley were the To-pai’-di-sel; on
upper, middle, and lower Cache Creek, respectively, the Ol’-po-sel, Chen’-po-
sel, and Wi-lak-sel, which signify “upper tribe”, “lower tribe”, and ‘tribe
on the plains”. In Long Valley are the Lol’-sel or Lold’-la; Jol denotes
“Indian tobacco”, and sel is a locative ending; hence the name means
“Indian tobacco place”, applied first to the valley, then to the people in it.
At Knight’s Landing are the Yo-det’-a-bi; in Cortina Valley the Wai’-ko-sel
(north tribe); at Colusa the Ko-ri-si (corrupted to the present form), whose
most celebrated chiefs were Sai’-ok and Hu-kai’-leh. On Stony Creek the
Patwin intermarried with the Wintiin and were called by the latter No-yt-
ki (southern enemies).
If all the immense plains from Stony Creek to Suisun had been occupied
the population would have been very great; but for several more or less
obvious reasons they were not. In winter there was too much water on
them, in summer none at all, and the aborigines had no means of procuring
an artificial supply. Besides there was no wood on them, and the over-
flowed portions in early summer breed millions of accursed gnats, which
render human life a burden and a weariness. Hence they were compelled to
live beside water-courses, except during certain limited periods in the win-
ter, when they established hunting-camps out on the plains. Nor could
they even dwell beside the Sacramento, save on those few low bluffs, as at
Colusa, where the tule swamp does not approach the river. At a point
about four miles south of Colusa there are indications in the shape of cir-
cular excavations that they once had somewhat substantial dwellings far
from water; yet these may have been only permanent hunting-camps.
They also had temporary camps in winter along the edge of the tule
swamp for the purpose of snaring wild-fowl.
But along the streams the population was dense. General Bidwell
states that, in 1849, the village of the Korusi contained at least one thou-
sand inhabitants. In Spring Valley, on the Estes Ranch, a cellar was lately
dug which revealed a layer of bones six or eight feet below the surface,
lying so thick that they formed a white stratum all around the side of the
cellar. At Vacaville great numbers of bones have been discovered in
220. THE PATWIN.
various excavations. Senor Pina, who was in the country ten years before
the gold discovery, states that on Puta Creek the Indians lived in multi-
tudes. They had an almost boundless extent of plains whereon to hunt
game and gather grass-seed; before the streams were muddied they swarmed
with untold myriads of salmon; and the broad tule swamps in winter were
noisy with the quacking and screaming flocks.
In addition to the modes of gathering and preparing food heretofore
described the Patwin had some different processes. On the plains they
gathered the seed of a plant called yellow- blossom (Ranunculus californicus),
crushed it into flour with stones, then put it into baskets with coals of fire
and agitated it until it was cooked and burned pot-black, when they made
it into pinole. The Korusi and probably others had an ingenious way of
capturing wild ducks. They set decoy-ducks, carved and colored very life-
like, and when the living birds approached they rose from concealment and
scared them in such a manner that they flew into nets stretched above the
water. ‘The Suisun fashioned clumsy rafts of tule with which they cruised
about in pursuit of water-fowl. When wild clover came into blossom they
frequently ate it so greedily as to become distressfully inflated with gas, (a
condition which when superinduced in his cattle by the same cause the
farmer calls ““hooven”). A decoction of soaproot was administered for one
remedy, and careful squaw-mothers kept a quantity of it on hand against
any indiscretion on the part of their children. But a more frequent treat-
ment was to lay the sufferer on his back, grease his belly, and let a friend
tread it. A gentler way was to knead it. The Spaniards affirm that the
Solano plains were well covered with wild oats as early as 1838, but the
Patwin did not make very extensive use of it then. Wild sunflower and
different kinds of grass were pulled or cut on the plains, thrashed out on
smooth ground, winnowed in the wind, the seed beaten up and made into
a kindof panada. Along the Sacramento they gathered many blackberries
in the season.
On the plains all adult males, and children up to ten or twelve, went
perfectly naked, while the women wore only a narrow slip of deer-skin
around the waist. In the mountains where it was somewhat cooler, the
women made for themselves short petticoats from the inner bark of the
wh
Figure 21.—Earth-lodges
of the Sacramento Valley.
i} er uy me
‘
Ah,
FAMILY INFLUENCE POWERFUL. 221
cottonwood. In making a wigwam they excavated about two feet, banked
up the earth enough to keep out the water, and threw the remainder on the
roof dome-shaped. In a lodge thus covered a mere handful of sprigs would
heat the air agreeably all day. In the mountains where wood was more
abundant they frequently put on no roofing of earth. It has been thought
by some that they used wood in the mountains in order to make a sharper
roof as a precaution against the weight of snow, and in the Sierra this con-
sideration had its weight also, but the real explanation is that they simply
used the material which lay nearest to hand.
With the Lolsela bride often remains in her father’s house and her
husband comes to live with her, whereupon half the purchase-money is
returned to him. Thus there will be two or three families in one lodge.
They are very clannish, especially the mountain tribes, and family influence
is all-potent. That and wealth create the chief, with such limited power as
he possesses. The chief of the Lolsel was and is Klai’-ty, but his brother
at one time became more powerful than he through his family alliances,
created an insurrection, involved the tribe in civil war, and expelled nearly
half of it with Klaity to the head of Clear Lake. They remained there
several years, but when the Americans arrived they intervened and secured
a reconciliation. A man who is wealthy sometimes purchases ‘‘relatives”
in order to augment his family influence; and one who has none at all
does the same to secure himself protection.
This clannishness begets conspiracies, feuds, and secret assassinations.
The members of a powerful Korusi family have been known to assemble in
secret session, during which they appeared to determine on the death of
some person who was considered dangerous, for immediately afterward that
individual was shadowed and soon disappeared. The Lolsel and Chenpo-
sel are noted for the savage family vendettas which prevailed between them,
some of which have been kept alive to this day.
In war the Patwin employed bows and arrows and flint-pointed spears,
and often fought in open ground with much bravery. No scalps were taken
from the slain, but the victors often decapitated the most beautiful maiden
they had captured, and one held up the bloody head in his hand for his
companions to shoot at to taunt and exasperate the vanquished. Men who
222 THE PATWIN.
had a quarrel about a woman or any other matter sometimes fought a duel
with bows and arrows at long distances.
When a Korusi woman died, leaving an infant very young, the friends
shook it to death in a skin or blanket. ‘This was done even with a half-
breed child. Occasionally a squaw destroyed her own babe when she was
deserted by her husband and had no relations, for the sentiment that the
men are bound to support the women—that is to furnish the supplies—is
stronger even than among us, especially in these days of endless discussion
of “woman’s sphere”. No American woman would be upheld in destroy-
ing her child because it had no supporter but herself, but the Indians up-
hold it always. In Long Valley a woman who was about to give birth toa
child was so strongly threatened by its American father that she consented
to make away with it; but the neighbors interfered, collected a sum of
money and a quantity of supplies, and presented them to her on the condi-
tion that she should preserve its life—a condition to which she gladly
assented. Afterward the child was bought of her for $10, and lived with
one of its purchasers eighteen years.
Parents are very easy-going with their children, and never systemati-
cally punish them, though they sometimes strike them in momentary anger.
On the Sacramento they teach them to swim when a few weeks old by
holding them on their hands in the water. I have seen a father coddle and
teeter his baby in an attack of crossness for an hour with the greatest patience,
then carry him down to the river, laughing good-naturedly, gently dip the
little brown smooth-skinned nugget in the waves clear under, and then lay
him on the moist, warm sand. The treatment was no less effectual than
harmless, for it stopped the perverse, persistent squalling at once.
The Patwin presents as good an illustration as any of the traditional
Digger Indian physique, and it will be well to describe it somewhat
minutely. There is a broadly ovoid face, in youth almost round, and in
old age assuming nearly the outlines of a bow-kite. The forehead is low,
but disproportionately wide, thickly covered with stiff, bristly hair on the
corners, and often having a sharp point of hair growing down in the middle
toward the nose; not retreating, but keeping well up toward a perpendicu-
lar with the chin, and frequently having the arch over the eye so strongly
CALIFORNIA INDIAN PHYSIQUE. 223
developed as to be asharp ridge; the ciliary hairs sparse, never spanning
across over the nose; beard and mustache very thin, almost totally lacking,
and carefully plucked out; the head small and brachycephalic, often found
to be startlingly small when the fingers are thrust into the coarse shock of
hair enveloping it; but the skull phenomenally thick. So depressed is it
that the diameter from temple to temple, judging by the eye, is equal to
that from base to crown, if not greater. This gives the forehead its great
width. Small as the cranium actually is, when a widow has worn tar in
mourning, and then shaved her poll to remove it, the hair, growing out
straight and stiff for two or three inches, gives her the appearance of having
an enormous head. In youth the eyes are well-sized, often large and lus-
trous, but at a great age they became smoke-burnt and reduced to mere
points, or else swollen, bleared, and disgusting. Probably there is no feat-
ure in this race so characteristic as the nose. So slightly is it developed at
the root, and so broad at the nostrils that it outlines a nearly equilateral
triangle upon the face. Perfectly straight like the Grecian, it is yet so
depressed at the root that it seems to issue from the face on a level with the
pupils of the eye. Owing to the great lateral development of the nares,
their longer axes frequently incline so much as to form nearly one continuous
line. In this case the outer axial line of the nose is foreshortened, so that the
eye of the beholder is directed into the opening of the nostrils, a repulsive
spectacle. The color varies from a brassy and a hazel almost to a jet black.
In young women the breasts are full and round, but after they have borne
children they hang far down, so far that a woman when traveling will suckle
her babe over her shoulder. ‘This may be partly due to the fact that they
wear no dresses to assist in staying them up. Their frames are small, and
the hands and feet might well be the envy of the Caucasian belle, being so
delicate that in youth they seem out of all proportion to the body, and it is
only when age has stripped off the gross mass of fat that they return to their
normal relation of size. In walking the Indian throws more weight on the
toes than an American, which is probably due in part to his stealthy, cat-
like habits. There is a tendency to walk pigeon-toed, especially when
barefoot, but it is by no means universal. As to the body, the most notable
feature is the excessive obesity of youth, and the total, almost unaccounta-
994 THE PATWIN.
ble collapse with advancing years. The watery and unsubstantial nature
of their food doubtless has something to do with this; and it is this phe-
nomenal shrinkage which causes them to become so hideously wrinkled and
repulsive. I have seen nonagenarians who it seemed to me would scarcely
weigh fifty pounds. An aged squaw of the Sacramento, with her hair close
cropped, the wrinkles actually gathered in folds on the face, and smutched
with blotches of tar, the face so little and weasened, and the blinking,
pinched eyes, is probably the most odious-looking of human beings. On
the other hand, take a Patwin girl of the mountains, at that climacteric when
she is just gliding out of the uncomfortable obesity of youth, her com-
plexion a soft, creamy hazel, her wide eyes dreamy and idle, and she pre-
sents a not unattractive type of vacuous, facile, and voluptuous beauty.
Klaity, the chief of the Lolsel, was turning white in spots. The
process had been going forward slowly for several years—he was probably
over eighty years old—not by any sloughing off, but by an imperceptible
change from black to a soft, delicate white. The old captain appeared to
be rather proud of the change than otherwise, hoping eventually to become
a white man. When asked by the interpreter where he expected to go after
death, he replied that he did not know, but he was going to follow the
Americans wherever they went.
From the above descriptions, it will be guessed that the Patwin rank
among the lowest of the race. Antonio told me that his people who could
not speak English had no name or conception whatever of a Supreme
Being, and never mentioned the subject, and that they never spoke of
religion, a future state, or anything of the kind. But this must be taken
cum grano salis. The Lolsel speak of a divinity whom they call Kem’-mi
Sal-to (the white man of the clouds), but this is too manifestly a modern
invention made to please their patron, Hanson.
Neither have they any ceremony that can be ealled worship. They
have dances or merrymakings (p0-noh) in celebration of a good harvest of
acorns or a plentiful catch of fish. he Patwin have a ceremony of raising
the dead, and another of raising the devil, but both are employed for
sordid purposes. The former was in early times used merely to keep the
women in subjection, but now merely to extort from them the gains of the
prostitution to which they are foreed by their own husbands and brothers!
RAISING THE DEVIL—“TAR-HEADS.” 225
In the ceremony of raising the dead there is first a noisy powwow in
the assembly-hall, and then a number of muffled forms appear, before
whom the women pass in procession in the darkness, with fear and trembling
and weeping, and deposit gifts in their hands. Thus their rascally~ and
indolent masters get possession of their base earnings without using coer-
cion.
In raising the devil there is a still greater ado. About the time of
harvest it would appear that the Old Scratch had determined to get them
all. They go out and kindle fires on all the hills about at night; they
whoop, halloo, and circle around as if driving in game; finally they chase
him in and tree him, then fling down shell-money underneath the tree to
hire him to take himself off. Sometimes he makes for the assembly-house,
fantastically dressed, and with harlequin nimbleness capers about it awhile,
then bows his head low and shoots into the entrance backward. He is now
intrenched in the stronghold of their power, and literally the devil is to
pay. Presently they pluck up courage to follow him in, and for awhile
there prevails the silence of the grave, when a pin could be heard to drop.
Then they fling down money before him, and dart out with amazing agility
After a proper length of time he steals out by some obscure trap-door,
strips off his diabolical toggery, and reappears as a human being. The
only object of this gratuitous and egregious foolery appears to be to assist
them in maintaining their influence over the squaws.
A widow wears tar on her head and face as long as she is in mourning;
sometimes two or three years, sometimes as many weeks. When she
removes it, it is understood she wishes to remarry; but if an Indian makes
advances to her before its removal, she considers herself insulted, and
weeps.
The knowledge of medicine is a secret with the craft; to learn it a
young man pays his teacher all that he possesses, and begins life without
anything left. But he soon reimburses himself from his patients, charging
them often from $10 to $20 shell-money for a single dose. For a felon, a
Korusi shaman split a live frog and bound one portion on the affected part,
which cured the same. When a person is manifestly sick unto death, the
Korusi sometimes wind ropes tight around him to terminate his sufferings.
15 TC
226 THE PATWIN.
A mixed practice prevails in disposing of the dead, but most are buried.
Those living near Clear Lake are somewhat influenced by the example of
their neighbors in favor of cremation, but on the plains burial was and is
almost universal. The Korusi thrust the head between the knees, wrap up
the body with bark and skins, and bury it on the side in a round grave.
Previous to interment, the body is laid outside of the assembly-hall, and
each of the relatives passes around it, wailing and mourning, and calling
upon the dead with many fond, endearing terms; then ascends the assembly-
hall, smites his breast, faces toward the setting sun, and with streaming
eyes waves the departed spirit a last, long farewell, for they believe it has
gone to the Happy Western Land. But the souls of the wicked return into
coyotes.
Of legends, there are not many to relate. It is a nation not very
ingenious, though occasionally there is a shrewd head. An old chief in
Napa Valley was once bored by a number of that description of men who
appear to think the Indians know more of earthquakes and the like than
our own scientists. Pointing to the mountains, he asked, ‘“You see them
mountains?” He was informed that they saw them. ‘Well, me not so
old as them.” Then pointing to the foot-hills, he asked again, ‘You see
them little mountains?” Again they replied in the affirmative. ‘Well,
me older than them.”
The Liwaito relate that there was once a great sea all over the Sacra-
mento Valley, and an earthquake rent open the Golden Gate and drained it
off. This earthquake destroyed all men but one, who mated with a crow,
and thus repeopled the world. The Korusi hold that in the beginning of
all things there was nothing but the Old Turtle swimming about in a limit-
less ocean, but he dived down and brought up earth with which he created
the world.
_ The Chenposel account as follows for the origin of Clear Lake: Before
anything was created at all the Old Frog and the Old Badger lived alone
together. The Badger-wanted a drink and the Frog gnawed into a tree,
sucked out and swallowed the sap and discharged it into a hollow place.
ORIGIN OF CLEAR LAKE—ORIGIN OF WATER. Q2Ai
He created other little frogs to assist him and by thétr concentrated efforts
they finally made the lake. Then he created the little flat whitefish, which
voyaged down Cache Creek and turned into the great salmon, pike, stur-
geon, and other fishes that swim in the Sacramento.
The Chenposel also tell this :
THE GREAT FIRE.
There was once a man who loved two women and wished to marry
them. Now these two women were magpies (atch’-atch), but they loved
him not and laughed his wooing to scorn. Then he fell into a rage and
cursed these two women, and went far away to the north. There he
set the world on fire, then made for himself a tule boat, wherein he
escaped to the sea and was never heard of more. But the fire which he
had kindled burned with a terrible burning. It ate its way south with
frightful swiftness, licking up all things that are on earth—men, trees,
rocks, animals, water, and even the ground itself. But the Old Coyote saw
the burning and the smoke from his place far in the south, and he ran with
all his might to put it out. He took two little boysin a sack and ran north
like the wind. So fast did he run that he gave out just as he got to the
fire and dropped the two little boys. But he took Indian sugar (honey-
dew) in his mouth, chewed it up, spat it on the fire, and so put it out.
Now the fire was out, but the coyote was mighty thirsty, and there was no
water. Then he took Indian sugar again, chewed it up, dug a hole in the
bottom of the creek, covered up the sugar in it, and it turned to water, and
the earth had water again. But the two little boys cried because they were
lonesome, for there was nobody left on earth. Then the coyote made a
sweat-house, and split out a great number of little sticks, which he laid in
the sweat-house over night. In the morning they were all turned to men
and women, so the two little boys had company, and the earth was re-
peopled.
It seems probable that this story relates to some great volcanic erup-
tion, perhaps to that of which an account was given by Professor Le Conte
in a paper read before the California Academy of Sciences in the spring of
1874.
228 ’ THE PATWIN.
~
THE RE’-HO.
This was one name of the tribe in Pope Valley, derived from a chief.
They were also called by the Patwin, Tu-lo-kai’-di-sel. They early became
extinct. As far back as 1842 there were only three living. The Spaniards
carried away a great portion of the tribe to the Sonoma Mission about the
year 1838, and within a few weeks of their arrival hundreds perished of the
small-pox. Nothing is preserved of their language, and almost nothing of
their customs.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE WIN-TUN’.
There is presented in this nation an illustration of the venerable saw,
flecti, non frangi. Ranking among the lower types of the race; supersti-
tious and grossly sensual, but industrious and well provisioned for savages;
joyous, blithe-hearted, excessively fond of social dances and gayeties ;
averse to war and fighting; timid, peaceful, and gentle, they have never-
theless seen more heroic peoples melt away around them like the dew.
With that toughness and tenacity of life characterizing some of the lower
orders of beings, they have lived on and possess their homes while better
and braver races have gone to oblivion. They early learned to let the
Americans well alone, and they have dumbly and placidly beheld the latter
sweep out of existence bold mountaineers who were wont of old te make
their lives a terror. They have gone out widely from their ancient domain;
I have seen them in Inyo County, in Yreka, and in various other parts of
the State; and a small colony of them settled in Huerfano Park, Colorado.
IT saw a Wintitin who, as servant to a traveler, had visited New York, China,
and other places; and another who had acquired a good education (for a
born savage), including a remarkably correct and grammatical use of
English.
Their name, Wintin, denotes “Indians” or ‘‘people”, and is one of
which they are proud, and use constantly as if it were, The People, the Great
People, whereas the Patwin never use theirs in anational sense. This inter-
pretation seems to be sustained by the fact that win-ti means “ chief”.
Generally speaking, they occupy the whole of the Upper Sacramento
and the Upper Trinity. In designating the various tribes, they always pre-
fix the point of the compass wai, nor, pu’-i, noam (north, south, east, west),
but they show much ingenuity in diversifying the terms, employing Los,
lak'-ki, su, mok, kekhl, yu'-ki (house, tongue, nation, people, tribe, enemy), to
229
230 THE WINTUN.
avoid repetition. The nucleus or home of the nation is on Cottonwood
Creek, and here they are Dati-pum Win-tiin (Valley Indians). On Ruin
River, a tributary of Cottonwood, are the Num’-mok (Western People).
On Stony, Thomes, and Elder Creeks, in the mountains and on the edge of
the plains, are the Noam/-lak-ki; on Lower Stony Creek, the Nu’-i-mok
(Southern People). The latter are intermarried with the No-yu’-ki (South-
ern Enemies), living at Jacinto, who belong to the Patwin nation. On
Lower Elder and Thomes Creeks are the Pu’-i-mok (Eastern People), who
also lap over on the east side of the Sacramento, and extend in a strip
about a mile wide from Rock Creek up to the mouth of Pit River. All
these tribes above-mentioned were called, in general, by the Cottonwood
Indians, Nor’-bos (Southern House or Branch); and the latter, in turn,
ealled the Cottonwoods, and others above them, Wai’-lak-ki (North Tongue
or Branch). Both sections called the Indians over the Coast Range, Yu’-ki,
a name which we have seen explained; and sometimes Noam’-kekhl
(Western Tribe), corrupted by Americans into Noam’-kult. The Noam’-
lak-ki were forever at war with their lowland neighbors, the Pu’-i-mok, but
were always obliged to confine themselves to the upper plains and mount-
ains until after the whites arrived. In 1855 they conquered’ at last, and
followed down the streams which belonged to them, taking up their abode
on their banks, as far down as the river. The Wai’-lak-ki, who called
themselves such (in distinction from the general appellation above-men-
tioned), lived on both sides of the Sacramento, from the Cottonwood up
to the Pit. On McCloud’s Fork are the Win’-ni-mim (from wai, win'-ni,
“north”, and mem, mim, ‘‘river”); and what few lived on Pit River were
called the Pu’-i-mim. On the extreme Upper Sacramento and in Squaw
Valley there was originally a mixed race, the result of intermarriage between
the Wintiin and the Pit River nations. The latter are called by the Wintin,
Pu’-i-su, or Pu’-shish, who range down to the big Bend of the Pit, called
by the Indians Cher’-ri-paum (Sandy Place).
In the Trinity Valley is another large branch. On the Upper Trinity,
reaching up to Scott Mountain, are the Wai’-kén-mok (People up North).
Irom Douglas City, or thereabout, down to North Fork, lived a tribe
called 'Ti-en’-Ti-en’. This name is said to signify “Friends”, and we can
AN ANCIENT METROPOLITAN TRIBE. Dei
well believe it does since these peaceful Win-ttiin living within reach of
the incursions of the powerful and warlike Hupa would be very likely to
seek to avert peril by calling themselves friends. On Hay Fork, as far
down as Hai’-en-pum (High Hill), are the Nor’-mok, or Nor’-rel-mok.
The Wintiin appear to have been originally a sort of metropolitan
tribe for the whole of Northern California below Mount Shasta. An intel-
ligent pioneer who had made himself well acquainted with their language
told me he was inclined to believe, from its richness in forms and syno-
nyms, that the Wintin had attained a higher point of development than
any of the surrounding tongues and might once have been, perhaps, a dip-
lomatic or court language over a wide extent of territory, as the Hupa is
yet. The broad, rich and beautiful valley of the Cottonwood is a natural
center for leagues upon leagues of the rolling, barren wastes that surround
it, being to this day a chosen spot of reunion for the scattered and wasted
tribes of the Wintin—‘‘a Mecca of the mind”, the seat of power of The
People; and we can easily believe that in the by-gone days of their glory
and greatness it may have witnessed large assemblages of gay revelers, and
the transaction of mighty affairs of state with savage pomp.
Physically considered the Wintiin are apt to be obese to a degree,
though not more so than others living in Sacramento Valley. At an early
day while the wild-clover pastures were yet good,.when it was fresh and
ereen in the spring, the nursing-women might be seen sitting on the ground
covering nearly a yard square with their fat persons, “larding the lean
earth”, like Falstaff; gathering clover and putting it in baskets, while their
little ones frolicked and tumbled on their heads in the soft sunshine, or
cropped the clover on all-fours like a tender calf. ‘They were very numer-
ous, swarming on the face of the earth like the long-eared rabbits of the
chaparral. They were a healthy race in this way; that is, a very large num-
ber of children were born, though many died young; but when a child once
survived the hardships of savage rearing and arrived at years of discretion,
the chances were good that it would live a tolerably long and healthy life.
But there were few very old people.
It is the testimony of the pioneers that even before they were cor-
rupted by the whites they were rather neglectful than otherwise of the
2a2 TIME WINTUN
sick and aged. About 1846 there was an epidemic among them which pro-
duced fever and raging thirst; and in a camp near Red Bluff several of the
invalids crawled down to the river to drink and fell in, owing to their
weakness, and were allowed to float away and drown.
A prominent disease among them, in aboriginal times, was various
phases of lung complaint.
As a tribe they were indifferent hunters but good fishermen, and they
kept their larders abundantly supplied with dried salmon. It is not too
much to say that as fisnermen they were industrious; they seem to take
no small pleasure in waiting and watching for the approach of the fish; it
is a lazy and a loafing occupation which is eminently congenial to the
indolent nature of the California Indian. Their squaws were also indus-
trious in collecting roots, nuts, berries, farinaceous seeds, ete.
Mrs. Wm. Shard, whose husband settled near Red Bluff in 1844,
relates the following instance of infanticide witnessed by herself. In a
‘amp near her husband’s house a women died soon after confinement, and
her young infant was buried alive in the grave with her, although Mrs.
Shard begged them to give it to her and promised to rear it with the
utmost care.
The Wintin language has many words in common with the Patwin,
a third or more according to my brief vocabularies, though it would not
so appear from the numerals:
WINTUN. PATWIN.
One. | ket’-tet. e-té-ta.
Two. | pal’-lel. pam’ -pet.
Three. | pan-é-khel. po-né-thle.
Four. | kla’-wit. i-mu-sta.
Five. | chan’-shi. et-i-sem’-ta.
Six. sé-pan-oakh. | sér-poat’-la.
Seven. | lo-lok’-it. ser-po-té-ta.
Eight. | sé-kla-wit. pan-i-mos’-ta.
Nine. | chan-klé-wit. | pan-i-me-té-ta.
Ten. | ti-kel-fes. pam-pa-sem’-ta.
FONDNESS FOR WATER—FISHING-STATIONS. 233
In the Wintiin, five is literally ‘‘one-half hand” or ‘‘one side hand”
(shi, from sem), that is, one hand, for by the simple word sem the Indian
means both hands. In the Patwin, five is “one hand”. The Wintiin,
nine is ‘one side and four”; ten is ‘none lacking”. In the Nummok
dialect nine is ‘fone lacking”, that is one finger minus.
In the matter of dress a fashionable young woman sometimes makes
for herself a very pretty habit, which consists simply of a broad girdle of
deer-skin, the lower edge ‘slit into long fringe with a polished pine-nut on
the end of each strand, while the upper border and other portions are
studded with brilliant bits of shell. An old Wintiin wife occasionally
appears in the light and airy costume of a grass rope wound once or twice
around. ‘The squaws all tattoo three narrow lines, one falling from each
corner of the mouth, and one between.
They are as remarkable as all Californians for their fondness for being
in, and their daily lavatory use of, cold water. They are almost amphibi-
ous, or were before they were pestered with clothing. Merely to get a
drink they would wade in and dip or toss the water up with their hands.
They would dive many feet for clams, remain down twice as long as an
American could, and rise to the surface with one or more in each hand and
one in the mouth. Though I have never given special attention to the
singular shell-mounds which occur in this State, I have often thought they
might have been originated by an ancient race of divers like these Wintiin.
T am not aware that the latter accumulate the shells in mounds, but they
are seen scattered in small piles about their riparian camps. In ancient
times, two rival rancherias might have striven to collect each the larger
heap of shells, as to-day two hunting or fishing parties will carry their
friendly contention to the verge of fool-hardiness to secure the greater
amount of game or fish.
For a fishing-station the Wintiin ties together two stout poles in a
cross, plants it in deep water, then lays a log out to it from the shore.
Standing here, silent and motionless as a statue, with spear poised in the
air, he sometimes looks down upon so great a multitude of black-backed
salmon slowly warping to and fro in the gentle current, that he could
scarcely thrust his spear down without transfixing one or more. At times,
234 THE WINTUN.
he construets a booth out over the water, but it is not nearly so ingenious
and pretty a structure as those on the Klamath. His spear is very long
and slender, often fifteen feet in length, with a joint of deer’s bone at the
end about three inches long, fashioned with a socket to fit on to the main
spear-shaft, to which it is also fastened by a string tied around its middle.
The Indian aims to drive this movable joint quite through the fish, where-
upon it comes loose, turns crossways, and thus holds the fish securely,
flouncing at the end of the string. The construction of this spear shows a
good knowledge of the gamy, resolute salmon; the string at the end allows
him to play and exhaust himself, while a stiff spear would be broken or
wrenched out of him. Meas athe Ne
ae Ne ey cape oi" WL NE
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, Noy ethen Maiti a Trey
Le a my ‘o
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7 We SR + ah of tag pO Pe Wee ener
Cee Pei sain chs mR poe a Si,
orth ai is. get = a (2 re iti a 4 i
a =.” e fh, = Wh ter, " eat ae a
‘ So She Ties cena © ty heh. « rene naa :
Ol ad tered ; a6 ; at ee ‘ote
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TREATY-MAKING—EXCHANGING NAMES. QA4T
warm clothing of skins). Sometimes they also swap names, which renders
the treaty very sacred. The following amusing circumstance is related of
the treaty made in 1852 by Col. Redick McKee with Tolo, for the posses-
sion of the upper part of Scott Valley. The colonel was vestured in a
scarlet waistcoat and other raiment calculated to produce a profound impres-
sion on the aboriginal mind, while Tolo’s skin shirts were frayed and other-
wise very objectionable to a civilized man. The old savage considered it ab-
solutely necessary to the solemnization of the treaty that he should get him-
self inside of that scarlet vest. But McKee’s views did not coincide with his,
and after much persuasion and the promise of a herd of beef-cattle as a
douceur, he secured Tolo’s assent to the treaty merely on condition that they
2, else the treaty
should exchange names. They must exchange something,
would be, and remain, null and void; so the old natural called himself
McKee, and gave the American his name. He was quite proud of the change
for a long time, and always strenuously insisted on being called McKee.
But month after month passed away, and there came no beef-cattle. As
he began to get hungry, and still no hoof ever arrived, the name did not
seem to him so ornamental. At last the unwelcome conviction dawned
upon him that he had been swindled. One morning he came into the
American camp, and when addressed by his Christian appellation he repu-
diated it with indignation, and declared that he had no name, that it was
“Jost”. Ever afterward, to the day of his death, he refused to be called
anything, declaring that his name was “lost”.
In 1874, Hon. J. K. Luttrell asserted in Congress that fifteen annual
appropriations had been made for this tribe and that they never received
a dollar of them all, the Indian agents having appropriated the money to
themselves. Thus it was Tolo got nothing fer his valley but a name.
A wife is purchased of her father for shell money or horses, ten or
twelve cayuse ponies being paid for a maid of great attractions. The
pioneers testify with much unanimity that the Shastika women were formerly
more virtuous than those on the Sacramento; but now, like so many others
living near mining camps, they are compelled by their indolent lords to go
out on errands of prostitution, and then compelled again to give up the
rewards of their infamy. They are to be pitied more than the California
248 THE SHASTIKA.
women, for they always had to slave for their masters more than these, and
they are now driven correspondingly more into lives of prostitution.
One day a band of Indians were aimlessly strolling about Yreka, when
some outrage was perpetrated upon them and they started to leave. They
had hardly gained the suburbs, when a squaw came running after them
furious with anger; caught up her calico dress and rent it from top to bot-
tom, as if to show at once her impatience at being a woman, and her loath-
ing of the hated race which it represented; seized a rifle off the shoulder
of an Indian; leaped upon a little hillock by the roadside, and in words of
the fiercest passion called upon them, if they were not recreants and das-
tards, to follow her and avenge the insult with blood. She started back,
but the Indians had tasted rather oftener than she the quality of American
cold lead, so they restrained her and took away the rifle and persuaded
her to go home peaceably.
Often of old the women went out with their lords to the battle. Alvy
Boles relates this story: In 1854, when Captain Judah was campaigning
against the Shastika on the Klamath, north of Yreka, women were fre-
quently seen among the Indians fighting, and sometimes found among the
dead. One day the savages came suddenly upon him, advancing rapidly
over the brow of a hill, and filling the air with a perfect shower of arrows.
3ut not a male barbarian was in sight! Before them, in serried line of
battle, their women were moving to the charge, while the warriors slunk
along behind them, discharging their arrows between the women. For a
moment the Americans were taken aback. Their traditional gallantry, not
a whit diminished by residence on the frontier, forbade their firing on the
tender sex. But what could be done? They could not shoot bullets around
a corner, or over the women’s heads at a right angle. Then the order rang
out loud and clear, “‘ Break down the breastworks!” It was done. In his
report Captain Judah mentioned that ‘‘a few squaws were killed by acci-
dent.”
I do not give entire credence to this story. It is the custom of the
Modok, and perhaps also of this tribe, to go into battle in couples, one
warrior crouching along behind another; and this circumstance may have
originated the above anecdote.
WOMAN’S RIGHTS—VENDETTAS. ; 249
Not only do the women go to war if they will, perform most of the
labor, and practice medicine, but they own property in certain instances.
A widow retains all the baskets and trinkets made by herself, and if she
subsequently acquires a pony or two it is against the traditions of the tribe
that they should be wrested from her. But money may be taken from her
by any male relative, and if he has not the manliness to do it openly he
may steal it, and it is accounted no crime to him.
One reason why the Shastika have hastened so rapidly toward extinc-
tion is the murderous ferocity with which feuds have always been prosecuted
between the Scott and Shasta Valley sections. An assassination never rested
long in either valley; it was bandied to and fro like a shuttlecock. As
many as fifteen Indians have been known to be slaughtered in a year as
the result of a single family vendetta.
Sweating and cold plunge-baths are less employed as remedial agencies
than among the California tribes. This is a natural consequence of their
colder climate and their more cumbrous dress. There is a class of priests
or rain-makers, who have an occult language not understood by the com-
mon Indians.
One thing is especially noticeable of the Shastika, as it is more or less
throughout California, and that is their strong yearning to live, die, and be
buried in the home of their fathers. If an Indian is overtaken by sudden
death away from his native valley, and must needs close his eyes far from
home and kindred, the prayer which he breathes with his dying breath to
his comrades is a passionate adjuration to them not to let his body molder
and his spirit wander houseless, friendless, and_alone in a strange country.
He conjures them by all that is good and pleasant in this life, by all the
mournful tenderness which is due to the awed and shuddering soul that is
going down to the grave, by all the solemn obsequies that are owed to the
unreturning dead, and as they themselves hope for like consolations when
growing faint, and weak, and dim-eyed in the shadows of death, and for
like common humanity at the hands of their tribe when all is ended, not
to suffer alien hands to bring indignity upon his helpless corpse, and alien
earth to press upon his stilled and silent lips. This request is religiously
observed. As they anciently had no efficient means of transportation, so
250 THE SHASTIKA.
the scarred and arrow-pierced body of the warrior fallen on the battle-field
within the enemy’s country, as well as that of the captive maid who had
yielded up her life heneath some white man’s roof beyond the mountains,
was first reduced to ashes, which were carefully gathered up and borne
home to rest in the ancient patrimony of the Shastika. But when one dies
at home he is buried, generally not in a grave, but upon a hill-top, or on
some bold promontory overlooking the village, where the body is covered
with a cairn of stones. This seems to he dictated by the idea so prevalent
in California that if the body is buried in the earth the soul cannot escape
from it.
This tribe have no clover, pine-nut, or acorn dances, and the like
merry-makings. There is a “doctor dance” held nearly every night, but
what it is I could not clearly discover; probably a combination of dancing,
singing, and jugglery. The puberty dance is observed, and the maiden is
compelled to fast quite rigorously, being obliged to abstain from animal
food ten or twelve days.
Their language is a difficult one, many of the words being polysyllabie
and harsh. A great many of the verbs assume a different radical in forming
the oblique tenses, and in the imperative. The pronoun is agglutinated to
the noun, and one substantive to another to form the genitive case. Aggluti-
nation prevails extensively, complicating the already forbidding language.
The numerals in Scott Valley are as below:
| |
| |
One. cha-mo. | Six. cho-wé-ta.
| Two. | hu-ka. | Seven. | ho-ké-da. |
| Three. | hats’-ki. | Eight. | hats-ki-wé-da. |
| Four. | id-i-hoi’-a. | Nine. cham-i-dakh’-i-wa. |
| 1 | / | mon | ,
| Five. | etch’-a. | Ten. etch-¢-weh.
They speak of a Great Man (Yu-ma-chuh), but his attributes are of a
negative sort, as usual, for the world was created by the Old Mole (7d’-7-dok),
a huge animal that heaved creation into existence by burrowing underneath
somewhere. A long time ago there was a fire-stone in the distant east,
white and glistening like the purest crystal, and the coyote journeyed east,
TRADITIONS OF THE SUN AND MOON—LEGENDARY HORSES. 251
brought this stone, and gave it to the Indians; this was the origin of fire.
Originally, the sun had nine brothers, all like to himself, flaming hot with
fire, so that the world was like to perish; but the coyote slew nine of the
brothers, and so saved mankind from burning up. The moon also had nine
brothers, all like unto himself, made of ice, so that in the night people went
near to freeze to death. But the coyote went away out on the eastern edge
of the world with his knife of flint-stone, heated stones to keep his hands
warm, then laid hold of the nine moons one after another and slew them
likewise, and thus men were saved from death by freezing.
When it rains there is some Indian sick in heaven, weeping. Long,
long ago there was a good young Indian on earth, and when he died all the
Indians wept so much that a flood came on the earth, and rose up to
heaven and drowned all people, except one couple.
Many: hundreds of years ago, according to the old Indians, there
existed on earth a horse and amare which were extremely small. The
Indians called them by a name (sd-to-wats), which they at once applied to
the first horses brought by the Spaniards. They perished long before
white men ever saw California. It is possible that these liliputian ponies
of the Indian fable refer to an extinct species of horse, of which the
remains have been discovered by Mr. Condon, in Oregon.
CHAPTER XXVIL.
THE MO/-DOK.
Some persons derive this name from Mo’-dok-us, the name o a former
chief of the tribe, under whose leadership they seceded from the Klamath
Lake Indians and became an independent tribe. Others assert that it was
originated by the Shastika, being at first pronounced Mo’-a-dok, and that
it denoted “aliens”, applying in its earlier usage to all the enemies of the
Shastika, and subsequently narrowed down to this one tribe. The first
derivation is the more probable, for there are other instances in California
where a seceding fragment of a tribe gradually came to be called by the
name of the chief who led the movement.
Their proper habitat was on the southern shore of Lower Klamath
Lake, Hot Creek, Clear Lake, and Lost River. They ranged as far west
in summer as Butte Creek to dig cammas, and at long intervals made an
incursion into the unoccupied and disputed territory around Goose Lake.
The great plains south, east, and west of this lake were thickly inhabited
of old, as is demonstrated by the number of stone mortars, fashioned with
a sharp point, to be inserted into the ground, which have been found on
Davis Creek and elsewhere; but within the historical period they have been
deserted. The Indians relate that, long ago, the Modok, Pai-u-ti, and Pit
River tribes contended for their possession in many bloody battles, but
none of them ever gained a permanent advantage, and at last they
abandoned the ferocious and wasting struggle from sheer exhaustion.
Always afterward, even when the all-equalizing Americans had arrived,
none of them ever ventured into this Golgotha, except now and then a
band of warriors on a brief hunting or fishing excursion, armed to the
teeth, and slipping through with haste and with stealth.
They present a finer physique than the lowland tribes of the Sacra-
ono
APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER—WARS. 953
mento, taller and less pudgy, partly, no doubt, because they engaged in
the chase more than the latter. There is more rugged and stolid strength
of feature than in the Shastika now living; cheek-bones prominent; lips
generally thick and sensual; noses straight as the Grecian, but depressed
at the root and thick-walled; a dullish, heavy cast of feature; eyes fre-
quently yellow where they should be white. They are true Indians in their
stern immobility of countenance.
What is singular, men as well as women paint their faces excessively
and every day with various pigments made of rotten wood, ocher, clay,
&e., so that they present a grotesque appearance.
On the whole, they are rather a cloddish, indolent, ordinarily good-
natured race, but treacherous at bottom, sullen when angered, notorious
for keeping Punic faith. But their bravery nobody can impeach or deny;
their heroic and long defense of their stronghold against the appliances of
modern civilized warfare, including that arm so awful to savages—the
artillery—was almost the only feature that lent respectability to their
wretched tragedy of the Lava Beds. As in the case of the Shastika, their
women often participate in the battle. It is said that in one of the forlorn,
fool-hardy assaults on the Lava Beds in the spring of 1873, a soldier was
killed by a Modok woman.
Like several of their neighbor tribes, they generally fight in couples,
one going in advance to draw the enemy’s fire, while his comrade creeps
along behind him. When the one in front succeeds by stratagem and false
appearances in inducing the enemy to unload his bow or his gun, the latter
is apt to step out from concealment or from the smoke to reconnoiter for the
effect of his shot, and then it is that the seconder, having retained his fire,
has him at deadly disadvantage.
The story of the wars waged between the Oregonians and the Modok,
extending at intervals for a quarter of a century, is frightful to contemplate,
but it is not the province of this work to enter into its details. There are
no more black and infamous massacres recorded in history than those of the
immigrants in 1852 and 1864, and that of General Canby and Commis-
sioner Thomas in 1873. But it is well not to forget that the butchery per-
petrated by Ben. Wright, even as related by a friendly countryman, was’
254 THE MODOK.
committed under circumstances every whit as damning and treacherous as
either of the above; and that the war of 1864, according to the old chief
Skon’-chin, (an Indian universally believed and respected by the whites
to this day), was begun by the whites simply in retaliation for the loss
of some horses. The victims of Modok treachery lie in scores, ay, in hun-
dreds, along the old emigrant-trail which leads up along the east side of
Tule Lake, past Big Bloody Point and Little Bloody Point—terribly sug-
gestive names! But, on the other hand, I have more than once when sit-
ting at the fireside in winter evenings, listened to old Oregonians telling
with laughter how when out hunting deer they had shot down a “buck”
or a squaw at sight, and merely for amusement, although the tribe to which
they belonged were profoundly at peace with the Americans! After that,
let us say no more.
The Modok were always churlishly exclusive, having no cartel or
reciprocity with other tribes like the joyous and blithe-hearted Wintin,
inviting none to their dances, and receiving no invitations in return. In
fact they have hardly any merry-makings, chiefly the gloomy and trucu-
lent orgies of war, of the scalp, and of death. They were like Ishmael
of old; their hand was against every man, and every man’s hand was
against them. They attained in early years to a great infamy as slave-
dealers, their principal victims being the timid, simple, joyous races of
California, especially the Pit River tribes. They and the Muk’-a-luk
(Klamath Lake Indians) are said to have got their first stocks of cayuse
ponies in exchange for slaves, which they sold to the Indians on the Co-
lumbia River, about The Dalles.
They have a toughness of vitality which corresponds to their character.
About 1847 the small-pox destroyed 150 of their number; they were
forever at war with the Shastika and other tribes until the whites inter-
vened; and they fought two terribly decimating wars with the Americans ;
and yet in 1872 they were slowly increasing again. In 1851 they were
less numerous than the Shastika; but just before the last great outbreak
they numbered about 250 souls, while the Shastika had only 30 or 40. In
1864 brave old Skonchin said, when he signed the treaty, ““Once my people
were like the sand along yon shore. Now I call to them, and only the
DWELLINGS, ANCIENT AND MODERN—CANOES. 2d)
wind answers. four hundred strong young men went out with me to war
with the whites; only 80 are left. We will be good if the white man will
let us, and be friends forever.” And individually he kept his word.
For a foundation to his dwelling the Modok excavates a circular space
from 2 to 4 feet deep, then erects over it a rounded structure of poles and
puncheons, strongly braced up with timbers, sometimes hewn and squared.
The whole is warmly covered with earth, and an aperture left atop, reached
by a center pole. Before the coming of the whites secured them against
the constant assaults and incursions of their enemies, their dwellings were
slighter, consisting generally of a frame of willow poles, with tule matting
overspread. It was not worth their while to build very substantial struc-
tures, lest in the next marauding expedition they should lose all their labor.
On the great, arid, volcanic, and sage-bush plains which sweep over the
northeast corner of California, and which make it geologically a part of
Nevada, it was an object of prime importance to the aborigines to get a sup-
ply of water. Hence the lodges of the Modok always stand beside some
lake or some sluggish desert stream, and they were notably fond of the pel-
lucid, fresh, and wholesome waters of Lost River—that so singular phe-
nomenon in this land of acrid sage-bush and lye-burnt soil.
Both sexes always dressed themselves warmly in skins and furs. For
gala robes they took large skins and inlaid them with brilliant-colored
duck-scalps, sewed on in various patterns, forming very beautiful if rather
evil-smelling, raiment.
They formerly had ‘dug-outs”, generally made from the fir, quite
rude and unshapely affairs compared with those found on the Lower Kla-
math, but substantial, and sometimes capable of carrying a burden of 1,800
pounds. Across the bow of one of these canoes a fish-seine was stretched,
bellying back as the craft was propelled through the water, until the eatch
was sufficiently large, when it was lifted up and emptied.
In these canoes they also gathered the wo’-kus. This is an aquatic
plant with a floating leaf very much like that of the pond-lily, in the cen-
ter of which is a pod resembling a poppy-head, full of rich farinaceous
seeds. These are pulled in great quantities, and the seed thrashed out on
shore, forming an excellent material for bread or panada. Americans some-
256 THE MODOK.
times gather and parch them, then eat them in a bow] of milk with a spoon—
a dish which is very relishable. It forms a large source of winter provis-
ions for this tribe.
Another thing which is of much importance in their stores is the kais,
or kés, a root about an inch long and as large as one’s little finger, of a
bitter-sweetish and agreeable taste, something like ginseng. I presume it
is a variety of cammas. Early in June they quit their warm winter-lodges,
and scatter about in small parties or families, camping in brush-wood booths,
for the purpose of gathering this root. They find it in moist, rich places
near the edge of swamps. With a small stick, fire-hardened at the end, a.
the
men and children are munching it all day—or dried and sacked up for
squaw will root out a half bushel or more in a day. It is eaten raw
winter.
They were formerly accustomed to cache large quantities of wokus
and cammas in the hills for safe-keeping during the winter. Forty years
ago or more, as they relate, there fell an unprecedented snow, 7 feet deep
on the level plain, so that for many days and weeks together they were
unable to reach the caches, and there came upon them a grievous famine.
They ate up all their rawhides, thongs, and moccasins, and would all have
perished if it had not happened that a herd of antelope, struggling through
the snow down to Rhett Lake, got upon the ice and broke in, when they
were captured, and their flesh saved one village alive to tell the tale.
In Lost River they find a remarkable supply and variety of fish.
There are black, silver-sided, and speckled trout, of which first two species
individuals are said to be caught weighing twenty-five pounds; buffalo-fish,
from five to twelve pounds; and very large, fine suckers, such only in name
and appearance, for they are no bonier than ordinary fishes. In spawning-
time the fish run up from Clear Lake in extraordinary numbers, so that the
Indians only have to place a slight obstruction in the stream to catch them
by thousands. Herein lies one good reason for the passionate attachment
which the Modok felt for Lost River. But the salmon, king of the finny
tribes, they had not, for that royal fish ascends the Klamath only to the first
rapids below Lower Klamath Lake. Above them there is no deposit of
gravel suitable for it to spawn in. They do not smoke-dry for winter con-
()
Figure 24.—Haby baskets and faucy baskets.
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BABY-BASKETS AND FLATTENED SKULLS. Aa |
sumption any considerable amount of fish, the principal kind used for this
purpose being the small white lake-fish.
The Modok women make a very pretty baby-basket of fine willow-
work, cylinder-shaped, with one-half of it cut away, except a few inches at
theends. It is intended to be set up against the wall, or carried on the
back; hence the infant is lashed perpendicular in it, with his feet standing
in one end, and the other covering his head like a small parasol. In one I
saw this canopy was supported by small standards, spirally wrapped with
strips of gay-colored calico, with looped and scalloped hangings between.
Let a mother black her whole face below the eyes, including the nose,
shining black; thrust a goose-quill three inches long through the septum
of the nose; don her close-fitting skull-cap, and start to town with her baby-
basket lashed to her back, and she feels the pride of maternity strong within
her. The little fellow is wrapped all around like a mummy, with nothing
visible but his head, and sometimes even that is bandaged back tight, so
that he may sleep standing.
From the manner in which the tender skull is thus bandaged back, it
occasionally results that it grows backward and upward at an angle of about
forty-five degrees. Among the Klamath Lake Indians I lave seen a man,
fifty years old perhaps, whose forehead was all gone, the head sloping right
back on a line with the nose, yet his faculties seemed nowise impaired.
‘The conspicuous painstaking which the Modok squaw expends on her
baby-basket is an index of her maternal love. And, indeed, the Modok are
strongly attached to their offspring—a fact abundantly attested by many
sad and mournful spectacles witnessed in the closing scenes of the war of
1873. On the other hand, a California squaw often carelessly sets her
baby in a deep, conical basket, the same in which she carries her household
effects, leaving him loose and liable to fall out. If she makes a baby-basket,
it is totally devoid of ornament; and one tribe, the Mi-wok, contemptuously
call it ‘the dog’s nest”. It is among Indians like these that we hear of
infanticide. :
One ancient aboriginal custom observed by the Modok was rather
pretty and poetical—that of intoning an orison in the morning before they
rose. At early daylight, before any one had come out of his wickiup, they
IU/L)
258 THE MODOK.
[ all sat up in their couches and chanted together, in the loud, harsh voice in
\
which they are accustomed to sing, some unmeaning chorus. This was
related to me by N. B. Ball, a soldier of Capt. Jesse Walker’s company in
1854, who listened to it one morning with a thrill of strange and supersti-
tious awe as he lay close on his face on the brow of an overlooking hill
waiting for the daylight to reveal the nick in the sights of his rifle, prepara-
tory to a charge on the village.
The Modok have a hereditary cheefeanchi and are less democratic
and independent than the California Indians, though there reveals itself
occasionally a surly and intractable character. A casual observer cannot
perceive any great difference between the nobility and the riffraff.
It is often asserted that the Indians improve in moral character after
they become acquainted with the Americans. B. F. Dowell, for instance,
states that twenty years ago the Modok were all roving, hostile, barbarous
savages, while now more than half are loyal, very kind, and many of them
speak good English. Their “loyalty ”, as with a great majority of Indians,
is nothing else but fear; they are neither more nor less kind than they were
as savages, if anything less generous to one another; and my observation,
which is not limited, gives painful proof of the fact that the younger and
English-speaking generation are less truthful, less honest, and less virtuous
than the old simon-pure savages. And this is the testimony of everybody
whose knowledge of the race has been gained by contact.
In a lecture delivered in San Francisco, Hon. A. B. Meacham made
the following statement concerning Modok marriages :
‘Within the confines of this State nearly all the young women are the
wives of old men, because the old men have the money to pay for them.
Remonstrance on the part of a young woman is out of the question, because
she is threatened constantly with the spirit of her father. Young men all
over the country have old wives. A poor young man has not fifty horses,
and he must take an old woman. He accepts the situation and marries an
old woman; but, becoming rich, he takes to himself a young woman. Po-
lygamy is allowed, and the Indians give many reasons why it should be
allowed. They say that in the spirit-land women are very small; that
OLD WIVES vs. YOUNG ONES—A SUICIDE. 259
they are scarcely known at all; that one man is so much greater than a
woman that he can take care of several female spirits; that in this life he
requires one to keep house, another to do hunting, another to dig roots.
Then the women themselves are opposed to any change, and are opposed
to the idea of marrying unless they are bought.”
Of the California tribes, this assertion that the old men all have young
wives, and the young men old wives, is untrue. It may be true of the
tribes in Oregon, but of the Modok I doubt if it is even partially true.
Horses were not so numerous among the Modok that it required fifty to
purchase a woman; farther up in Oregon they may have been.
Of their religion, he states that a new one had been introduced within
a few years past.
The substance of the new religion is, that wherever a man is born
there he ought to die. If he changes his habitation, his body will not go’
back to where it originated, and both body and soul will wander around.
The central idea of this “religion” is by no means new; it has always
been one of the most passionate desires among the Modok, as well as their
neighbors, the Shastika, to live, die, and be buried where they were born.
Some of their usages in regard to the dead and their burial may be gath-
ered from an incident that occurred while the captives of 1873 were on their
way trom the Lava Beds to Fort Klamath, as it was described by an eye-
witness. Curly-headed Jack, a prominent warrior, committed suicide with
a pistol. His mother and female friends gathered about him and set up a
dismal wailing; they besmeared themselves with his blood, and endeavored
by other Indian customs to restore his life. The mother took his head in
her lap, and scooped the blood from his ear; another old woman placed her
hand upon his heart, and a third blew in his face. The sight of the group,
these poor old women whose grief was unfeigned, and the dying man, was
terrible in its sadness. Outside the tent stood Bogus Charley, Huka Jim,
Shacknasty Jim, Steamboat Frank, Curly-headed Doctor, and others who
had been the dying man’s companions from childhood, all affected to tears.
When he was lowered into the grave, before the soldiers began to cover
the body, Huka Jim was seen running eagerly about the camp, trying to
exchange a two-dollar bill of currency for silver. Ie owed the dead war-
260 THE MODOK.
rior that amount of money, and he had grave doubts whether the currency
would be of any use to him in the other world—sad commentary on our
national currency !—and desired to have the coin instead. Procuring it
from one of the soldiers, he cast it in, and seemed greatly relieved. All the
dead man’s other effects, consisting of clothing, trinkets, and a half dollar,
were interred with him, together with some root-flour as victual for the
journey to the spirit-land.
It does not come within the purpose of this report to narrate the Indian
wars of California; only those incidents are selected which throw some light
on aboriginal customs, habits, and ideas. It was asserted by some writers,
and by the Hon. A. B. Meacham in his lecture, that the Modok were led
into their last terrible outbreak by a belief that their dead were about to be
restored to life and come to their assistance, and at the same time the Ameri-
cans would be swallowed up in the earth. This curious expectation pre-
vailed not only among them, but among the Yurok, Karok, Shastika, and
in fact all over Northern California, as far down as Lower Russian River
and American River, and perhaps farther. The Shastika said a crow had
imparted to them the information that all their dead were hovering about
the top of Mount Shasta, waiting a favorable moment to descend. The
Karok prophets announced that the re-embodied dead of their tribe were
already on the march from the east, myriads of pigmies, coming to over-
throw the Americans.
But I do not believe this prophecy had any active influence in driving
the Modok into the rebellion. To their credit, a great majority of the In-
dians refused credence to their soothsayers in this thing. To be sure, there
was infinite talk about it, as there always is among savages about any mat-
ter of superstition, but they took good care not to attempt any rash thing
against the whites in the expectation that they would be sustained in it by
the timely arrival of the revivified dead. The Modok simply drifted into
the war through the force of cireumstances—a war which had been pre-
pared and made inevitable by events long antedating its outbreak.
There is no doubt, however, that their sorcerers exercised a baneful
influence over them both before the war and after it was begun. For in-
stance, when an attack was ordered to be made on the Lava Beds by 400
INDIAN MILITARY ENGINEERING—CAPTAIN JACK. 261
men, January 17, 1873, and a dense fog overhung the face of the earth
when the time arrived, the Modok believed firmly that their sorcerers had
brought it; that the spirits were favorable to them, and they were encour-
aged and kept hearty in the fight.
Of the consummate skill and daring with which they fought, when once
in the war, both soldiers and civilians bear abundant testimony. A careful
and conscientious correspondent, Mr. Bunker, who visited the famous Lava
Beds soon after they were captured, writes:
“The military engineers with whom I have talked upon the subject are
emphatic in their opinion that no man versed in military tactics could have
selected a fortress in the Lava Beds better adapted to the ends of defense
than this same stronghold. Where nature has not fulfilled the requirements
of the situation, the Indians have piled up the lava, and so remedied every
apparent defect. It is a fact that no soldier could have climbed within
fifty yards of the stronghold while the Indians were in possession without
looking into the muzzles of guns; and nothing but a gun would be seen.
The ingenuity of the Modok has surpassed all understanding. Their engi-
neering skill draws warm commendation from the best talent in the camps.
Every picket-post is thoroughly protected from assaults by riflemen, and
arranged to cover a retreat. The avenues are even more complicated than
the labyrinthian streets of Boston. Even the Modok could not trust to
memory in this fortification, and as a matter of precaution had localities
marked by bits of wood of different sizes. They could not familiarize them-
selves with a pile of rocks two hundred yards square !”
They merited a better leader than they had. Captain Jack was not a
hero, and does not deserve to be mentioned with Tecumseh and Pontiac
and Red Jacket. A full-blooded Modok (all idle tales to the contrary not-
withstanding), born at the mouth of Lost River, he entered the last great
struggle of his tribe about thirty-five or forty years of age, in the full ma-
turity of his powers.
A man about five feet eight inches high, compactly and strongly built ;
a large, sqnare head and massive cheek-bones; hair parted in the middle, and
reaching down to the shoulders, where it was cut off even all around; long
eyelashes, but no beard; dark, piercing, sinister eyes; the thin lips of an
262 THE MODOK.
insincere and cowardly man—such was his physique. He is described as
having an undecided and irresolute air. At the last, when adversity began
to overcloud his fortunes, he signally failed to command the obedience of
his followers, and even in the height of his prosperity he rather followed
than led the bolder spirits.
He had an evil record from the beginning, a record showing his native
baseness. He ascended to the supremacy only by rebelling against his
lawful chief, old Skonchin, and by pandering to the worst elements of his
tribe on the reservation.
Soon after he left the reserve he gambled with Captain George, a
Mukaluk chief, until he lost twenty-one ponies, then refused to give them
up; and, finally, because his following was the larger of the two, and
Captain George’s was unarmed, he began to bluster, threatened George’s
life, and at last coolly drove the ponies away.
There is no doubt that he originally opposed the scheme of massacre-
ing the commissioners, but he was overborne by the fiery young warriors
of his band, and he weakly allowed himself to be led into the plot and
become the chief actor in that perfidious butchery ; and then, in his dying
speech, he proposed that a relation should be executed in his stead; and
when the proposition was rejected cravenly followed after General Wheaton
to know if there was not yet a prospect that it would be accepted! Two
passages in his speech reveal the man he was: ‘It is terrible to think I have
to die. When I look at my heart I would like to live till I died a natural
death.” And this: “IT always had a good heart toward the white people.
Scarface Charley is a relative of mine; he is worse than I am, and I propose
to make an exchange and turn him over to be executed in my place.”
John Skonchin, brother to old Skonchin, desperado that he was, should
go down to posterity as the real chieftain and moral hero of the Modok
war. In his last speech he pleaded not for himself. He pleaded for his
children, that they might be tenderly cared for and given into the charge
of his brother. He expressed himself willing to die for the misdeeds of his
young men. He was much moved by the words of the ‘Sunday Doctor”,
and said: “ Perhaps the Great Spirit will say, ‘Skonchin, my law, which
was in force among the whites, has killed you” * * * You have tried
BOSTON CHARLEY—MURDER OF THE COMMISSIONERS. 263
the law on me and know whether or not Iam agood man. * * * I
will try to believe that the President did according to the will of the Great
Spirit in condemning me to die. * * * My heart tells me I should
not die. You are doing a great wrong to take my life.” Thus his natural
love of life contended with his philosophic calm, sometimes getting the bet-
ter of it; but he went to his death without any weakness.
Boston Charley displayed the nerve of a devil; he alone manifested
that Indian stoicism of which poets and romancers tell us. And, fiend-
incarnate though he was, let us do him the justice to say that he was the
only Indian of the four who did not die with a falsehood in his mouth. A
mere boy in years, but tall, athletic, and of a splendid physique; a face
perfectly smooth ; a head small and round; little, fierce eyes, set deep in it
and gleaming with a devilish expression—there never went to the scaffold
a human being with a more cool and reckless unconcern, not feigned but
real, than Boston Charley. In his speech he said: “Although I ama boy,
I feel that Iam aman. When I look at the others I feel that they are
women. When I die and go to the other world I don’t want them to go
with me. I am not afraid to die. I am the only man in this room to-day.”
Speculating on the purpose the Modok had in murdering the commis-
sioners, an ingenious writer advanced the theory that, judging the Ameri-
cans by themselves, they believed that the death of our leaders would strike
terror into the hearts of their followers, and cause them to disperse in wild
dismay. Probably the motive for this to us almost unaccountable act
must be sought from two sources. First, they doubtless considered it,
educated in savage ideas as they were, as only a righteous retaliation for
the massacre perpetrated by Ben. Wright many years before, in which
Captain Jack’s father and the fathers or near relatives of many others per-
ished. Second, there is a sentiment dwelling in the breast of every brave
Indian that if he can only destroy the greatest, or at least a very great man
out of the enemy’s camp, he will die in battle content. In the case of
Boston Charley, and perhaps of one or two others, it was undoubtedly pure,
unreflecting,
any of them expected by the deed to put all our hundreds of soldiers to in-
unreckoning malice and hatred. It is not at all probable that
continent flight. They had lived among the Americans too long and knew
264 THE MODOK.
them too well for that. They knew us better than we knew them, so far
as fighting qualities were concerned.
There was a burst of indignation on two continents when this bloody,
treacherous thing was done; that the Modok had disregarded what all men,
savage as well as civilized, have universally agreed to recognize as sacred,
to wit, a flag of truce and the person of an ambassador. But when Ben.
Wright did the same thing, the very same thing, in all essential particulars,
where is the use of talking any more about the ‘code of warfare”? In
fact, the plain and painful truth is that, since the day of Miles Standish,
the ‘code of warfare” has been broken very many times on both sides, for
the simple reason that when civilized men are arrayed against uncivilized
men in a struggle for life, it ceases to be civilized warfare, or any other kind,
except a war of extermination. Disguise it as we may, that is what the
war has practically been on both sides from the settlement of the continent
to this hour.
Notwithstanding their acts of barbarous ferocity there is something
melancholy in the whole history of the Modok. Seceders in the first place
from the Mukaluk, they drew down upon their heads the bitterest hatred
of the parent stock, who became their irreconcilable enemies. Being an
offshoot without hereditary prescriptive rights and a patrimony, they were
regarded by all the surrounding nations as interlopers, and warred upon
accordingly, as was the case with the Lassik in California. Thus they be-
came outcasts and outlaws to the whole Indian world, and who shall doubt
that in this fact lay the secret of much of the rancorous cruelty and im-
placable revenge with which they afterward always prosecuted their wars ?
Finally they came upon the great enemy who leveled all tribes before
him, and in two bitter, bloody wars, in which they saw their young men
melt away before some strange and dreadful weapon, they were utterly
broken down to the earth, and consented by treaty to go upon a reservation.
3ut unhappily for them this reservation was situated on the ancestral soil
of their old enemies, the Mukaluk, and their troubles began afresh. They
had been able before to take care of themselves, and had established tradi-
tional rights on Lost River; but now a second time they were taunted as
A SCRAP OF RESERVATION HISTORY. 265
interlopers, and they were helpless to defend themselves. In every way
that savages are so ingenious to invent their lives were made bitter to them.
Their women were beaten and insulted whenever it could be done with im-
punity; their springs and streams were muddied or poisoned; their ponies
were shot; their children were whipped; themselves were stoned and
scoffed and flouted.
Their brave and honest old chief Skonchin had given his word to the
Government, in 1864, that he would stay on the reservation, and he kept it
to the letter. The cries and wails of his sorely-persecuted people came up
to his ears as did the lamentations of the children of Israel in the desert to
Moses. But he was helpless to save them. He could only appeal to the
reservation authorities for relief, and when they did nothing he was forced
therewith to be content.
Finally Captain Jack arose as a would-be deliverer. In fiery orations
he pictured and magnified to the long-suffering Modok the griefs which they
knew all too well. He gathered about him a band of reckless young men
who chafed under the restraints of the reservation. He made common
cause with them and united them to his fortunes. At length, in 1870, em-
boldened by the imbecility which reigned on the reserve, he struck camp
and boldly marched away, taking with him one hundred and fifty followers,
about three-fifths of the Modok tribe.
He went down to Lost River, the ancestral home of his race, and re-oc-
cupied the rich grazing lands which the Government had sought to secure
to the settlers by the treaty of 1864. Troubles continually arose with the
settlers. The air was burdened with their complaints. The Modok had
become impudent and insolent; they had learned to despise the wretched
farce of the reservation management.
Herein lay the great and fatal mistake of the American authorities,
that they did not deal firmly with the savages. They sent agents to them
to urge them to return; they threatened, they coaxed, they made promises,
they wheedled, then they threatened again, and so on through all the
inefficient and farcical round which has generally characterized the deal-
ings of our reservations with the American Indians. They taught the
Modok to contemn them. All their lives they have done nothing but read
266 THE MODOK.
faces, and they are consummate judges of human nature. They know well
when there is weakness in the enemy’s camp. They judged the Great
Father in Washington by the sons whom he sent.
In fact, Captain Jack went back to the reservation once on condition
that the Mukaluk should not be allowed to insult him as a coward. But
this guarantee was not kept, the old course of ignominious taunts and
abuse began again. Jack withdrew a second time, declaring he would not
remain in a home which was no home, and with an agent who had no heart.
There were changes of agents and changes of policies. The Indians
knew not what to depend on. They were disgusted and defiant. Old
Skonchin and his faithful hundred were removed to a new reservation at
Yainax, where they were out of the reach of their hereditary tormentors,
and were allowed to live in peace. But this change came too late.
In a sudden spasm of vigor a detachment of thirty-five soldiers was
sent to Jack’s camp, and on the fatal 29th of November, 1872, they took
him by surprise. There was bloodshed. The torch of the Modok war was
lighted, and it flamed up with a fearful burning. They fought with unpar-
alleled heroism for their homes, but were crushed by superior power; and
their fallen chiefs were held to a stern and awful accountability to laws
which they had no hand or voice in making, and whose spirit and substance
had been as wantonly violated by the conquering race as by themselves.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE A-CHO-MA‘WI.
_The Pit River Indians are divided into a number of tribes, of which the
principal are the following: In Fall River Basin, the A-cho-ma’-wi; on the
South Fork, the Hu-nia’/-whi; in Hot Spring Valley, the Es-ta-ke’-wach ;
in the same valley, below Hot Spring, the Han-te’-wa; in Round Valley,
the Chu-ma/-wa; in Big Valley, the A-tu-a’-mih (also called sometimes
the Ha-mef-kut’-tel-li). The first name is derived from a-cho'-ma, ‘the
river”; and Estakewach is from es-ta-ke’, ‘‘hot spring”.
Another tribe on the south side of the river, opposite Fort Crook, are
called Il-ma’-wi. Pit River is simply and pre-eminently ‘the river”; other
streams have their special names. In accordance with that minuteness of
geographical nomenclature so common in California, they are not content
with designating the river as a whole, but every reach, every cataract, every
bend, has a name to itself. Thus a little rapid above Burgettville is Cho-
to’-keh, the next bend below Lo-ka’-lit.
There is a remarkable difference between the physique one sees in
Hot Spring Valley and that in Big Valley, only twenty miles below. It
is partly caused by the meager supply of aboriginal food in the former
valley; partly the deplorable result of generations of slave-wars and slave-
catching prosecuted against them by the Modok and the Mukaluk, and
partly the result of the awful scourging given them by General Crook, and
the deportation of the heart of the tribe to a distant reservation. The Hot
Spring Valley Indians are the most miserable, squalid, peaked-faced, men-
dicant, and mendacious wretches I ever saw in California. Frequently
their teeth project forward into a point, and when their lips are closed they
are wrinkled tight over them like a drawn purse. When eating there is
267
268 THE ACHOMAWI.
often the same rapid, mumbling motion one may observe in the lips of a
squirrel. Squatted on their haunches in their odious tatters, they grin, and
erin, and lic. Nibbling at a piece of bony fish with those puckered, pre-
hensile lips, they look like nothing in the world so much as a number of
apes. Their faces are skinny, foreheads very low and retreating, bodies
lank, and abdomens protuberant. I dismounted and stood fifteen minutes
watching a group of them eating one of those execrable Pit River suckers ;
and never in my life have I seen so saddening and so piteous a spectacle
of the results which come from seizing out into bondage year after year all
the comeliest maidens and bravest youths of a people. All the best young
blood of the nation is filched out of it, and instead of physical advance-
ment by the Darwinian principle of “selection”, here is steady embrute-
ment by the propagation of the worst.
But the tribe on the South Fork (whom I did not see) were perhaps
made of better stuff, besides which they ate plenty of fat deer out of the
mountains, and escaped the slave-raids of the Modok. It was these whose
“nasty” fighting indirectly gave the name to Fort Damnation—a place well
christened, where Crook jammed them at last against the wall. There is
a deep, steep canon into which they had escaped as a last resort, and bar-
ricading themselves with shards of rock and débris at the foot of the canon
walls, they made it death for any man to show his face at its mouth.
A subaltern officer came back to report the situation to his superior,
and demurred against further fighting. To him said the grim soldier: “We
were sent here to fight Indians. When you are all killed I am going in
there to fight them myself.” Two detachments were sent out, and by
making a long circuit they succeeded in reaching the brink of the canon
on opposite sides. Then their bullets shot slanting down, and came ecrash-
ing upon the heads of the savages, while plenty of leaden leg-cutters were
slung up the cafion with an infernal yelling, and the Indians found it get-
ting hot. It was their last fight.
Let one remount at the Hot Spring and ride one easy day’s journey
down to Big Valley where the mountains helped to keep out the thieving
Modok slavers, and there is much improvement in the forms we meet. The
faces are broad and black and calm, and shining with an Ethiopian
PITFALLS—MEAGER RANGE OF FOOD. 269
unctuousness ; the foreheads are like a wall; in those solid, round-capped
cheek-bones, standing over against one another so far apart, and in those
massive lower jaws, there is unmistakable strength, bred in the bone through
tranquil generations. They laugh with a large and placid laugh which
comes all the way up from their stomachs, soundless, but agitating their
well-fed bodies with slow and gentle undulations. Here is a hearty and
a lusty savagery which is pleasant to see.
There was one custom of the Pit River nation wherein they differed
from all other California Indians, and that was their custom of digging pit-
falls for the trapping of game. Selecting some trail where the deer passed
frequently, they would, with no other implements but fire-hardened sticks,
excavate pits ten or twelve feet deep, and carry all the earth away out of
sight in baskets. Then they would cover the pits with thin layers of
brushwood and grass, sprinkle earth over all, scatter dead leaves and twigs
on the earth, restore the trail across it, and even print tracks in it with a
deer’s hoof; then back out and conceal their own tracks. Such an infinity
of trouble would they give themselves to capture one deer—a fact which
shows them to have been, as we otherwise know was the ease, indifferent
hunters. These pitfalls were very numerous along the river-banks where
the deer came down to drink; and the early settlers lost so many cattle in
them and fell in so often themselves that they compelled the Indians to
abandon the practice. It is these pits which named the river.
Mention has been made of the meager diet of the Hot Spring tribes.
They have no acorns, no salmon (acorns and salmon are the flour and pork
of the California Indians). They have a fine range of game-birds—Cen-
trocercus urophasianus, Pediocetes Columbianus, Bonasa Sabinii, Oreortyx
pictus—but they trap few of them and shoot fewer. Venison they are able
to indulge in rarely. They have grasshoppers, very large and juicy crickets,
the ntiserable suckers and a few trout from the river, cammas, clover in the
spring, and the sickening, diseusting bear-berries (Frangula Californica).
After the vast crystal volume of Fall River enters and overcomes the
swampiness of the snaky Pit, then salmon are caught, the Indians say,
though the whites assert that they do not ascend above a certain tre-
mendous cataract which is said to exist on the lower river. When the
270 THE ACHOMAWIL.
salmon season arrives, a band of aged shamans abstain from fresh fish, flesh,
or fowl for certain days, which they believe will induce a heavy run and
a plentiful catch. Even the women and children at this time, if they wish
to eat fresh salmon, must carry it back in the forest out of sight of the river.
Like the Maidu of Sutter County, they call the salmon by sitting in a circle
on some overlooking promontory, while a venerable shamin stands in the
midst and earnestly addresses the finny multitudes for two or three hours,
urging them to ascend the river.
Probably the squaws in this nation occupy as degraded and servile a
position as in any other tribe in the State. A man’s daughters are consid-
ered simply as his property, his chattels, to be sold at pleasure. He owns
them not only when maidens, but when widows—either the father or the
brothers. A widow does not pass into the possession of her husband’s
brother, as in some tribes, but of her own brother, who sells her and her
children to her second husband. An intelligent squaw told me they were
often cruelly beaten, and had no redress. If a wife deserts her husband’s
lodge and goes back to her father, the hushand may strike her dead if she
refuses to return. A squaw is seldom held responsible for adultery, even
with white men. Polygamy prevails when the man is rich enough to
buy wives. Tyee John, for instance, had three. When a man marries he
gives presents to all the male members of his bride’s family, but none’ to
the female. Yet even here there were some mitigations to her position. A
widow retains all the articles which she herself made; also sometimes a
horse which she paid for out of her own earnings. A widower cannot
keep his wife’s personal property, such as baskets, &c. ; but her relatives come
and take them away. Though a slave herself, bought and sold, her right to
these little personal articles is inviolable. There are many female sha-
mins, and the rights and modesty of a woman in childbirth are sacredly
respected, as they are not among civilized nations. Moreover, there is once
in a while a good, healthy, natural instance of a thoroughly henpecked
man. The Indians tell with great glee of a terrible termagant in the tribe,
called “Old Squally”. One day she quarreled with her husband when
whereupon she faced him about toward the water, and
they were fishing,
kicked him into the same with violence, telling him to “go in swimming”.
GLIMPSES OF SOCIAL LIFE. A
Notwithstanding their occasional ebullitions of brutality toward women
and children, they are a race with strong affections. William Burgett relates
that he has frequently seen them carry the aged long distances on their
backs to bring them to a physician. An Indian employed by him once lest
a cousin to whom he was much attached; and he wept and mourned for him
daily for more than six months, refusing food to such a degree that he was
reduced to a living skeleton. An aged Achomawi lost his wife, to whom
he had been married probably half a century, and he tarred his face in
mourning for her as though he were a woman—an act totally unpre-
cedented, and regarded by the Indians as evincing an extraordinary affection.
A woman speaking good English gave me some interesting glimpses
of Indian social life on Pit River. An Achomawi mother seldom teaches
her daughters any of the arts of barbaric housekeeping before their mar-
riage. They learn them by imitation and experiment after they grow old
enough to perceive the necessity thereof. The parents are expected to
establish a young couple in their lodge, provide them with the needful
basketry, and furnish them with cooked food for some months, which
indulgent parents sometimes continue for a year, or even longer, so that
the young people have a more real honeymoon than is vouchsafed to most
civilized people. As children are taught nothing, so they are never pun-
ished, but occasionally cuffed or banged. It is a wonder that they grow
up with any virtue whatever, for the conversation of their elders in their
presence is often of the filthiest description. But the children of savages
far less often make wreck of body and soul than do those of the civilized,
because when the great mystery of maturity confronts them they know
what it means and how to meet it.
In case of the birth of twins one is almost always destroyed, for the
feeling is universal that two little mouths at once are too great a burden.
Infanticide seems to prevail in no other instance but this. It is a singular
fact that the Indians generally have no word for “milk”. They never see
it, for they never extract it from any animal, because that would seem to
them a kind of sacrilege or robbery of the young. Hence, an Indian fre-
quently sees this article for the first time among civilized people, and adopts
the Spanish word for it.
272 THE ACHOMAWI.
The squaws spend a good deal of time in visiting each other, when the
conversation runs on their youngest children, on how many strings of shells
Hal-o’-mai-chi paid Sdem’-el-di for his daughter, on the last dance they, the
squaws, had around the bloody head of a Modok, &e.
The language of Pit River is so hopelessly consonantal, harsh, and
sesquipedalian, so utterly unlike the sweet and simple languages of the Sacra-
mento, that to reduce it to writing one must linger for weeks, and cause the
Indians to repeat the words many times. The reader may wonder at this,
but I have only to say let him make the experiment. . The personal pro-
nouns show it to be a true Digger Indian tongue.
A mixed custom prevails as to the disposition of the dead. William
Burgett affirms that they burn only those bodies which died of an unknown
disease, as a sanitary measure, burying all others in a sitting posture; but
this imputes to them more philosophy and more freedom from superstition
than they are entitled to, I opine. One fact is peculiar: the Ilmawi never
have burned their dead at any time in their history, though belonging to a
nation that did. It is probable that in the other tribes cremation prevailed
almost exclusively before the Americans arrived. They believe that the
spirits of the departed walk the earth and behold the conduct of the living;
a belief common in Oregon, but not, as I am aware, in California. The
good reach the Happy Western Land quickly; the wicked go out on the
same road, but walk forever and never reach it. To walk forever—per-
petual motion!—could anything be a fitter painting of hell to the indolent
California Indian ?
_ Some years ago an aged chief related to a settler on Fall River an an-
cient tradition respecting an extraordinary phenomenon which once occurred
on Pit River. All the atmosphere was filled with ashes so that the heavens
were darkened and the sun blotted out, and the Indians wept with fear
and trembling, as they who stand before death. he birds of the air were
stilled, and all the sweet voices of nature were hushed. This phenomenon
continued for days, insomuch that some of the Indians attempted to find
their way out to another country by creeping along the ground, in hope of
beholding the sun once more. After they had crept on their knees for many
AN ANCIENT TRADITION—THE COYOTE AND THE FOX. 273
miles the ashes began slowly to disappear, and the sun shone again, but at
first it was like blood for color.
It is possible that this legend has reference to that tremendous out-
pouring of lava (which must have been preceded by showers of ashes),
which was recently described by Professor Le Conte in a paper read before
the California Academy of Sciences.
LEGEND OF CREATION.
Our earth was created by the coyote and the eagle, or, rather, the
coyote began and the eagle completed it. First, the coyote scratched it up
with his paws out of nothingness, but the eagle complained that there were
no mountains for him to perch on. The coyote made hills, but they were
not high enough, so the eagle fell to work on it and scratched up great
ridges. When he flew over them his feathers dropped down, took root, and
became trees, and his pin-feathers became bushes and plants. But in the
creation of animals and man the coyote and the fox participated, the first
being an evil spirit, the other good. They quarreled as to whether they
should let men live always or not. The coyote said, “If they want to die,
let them die”; but the fox said, ‘If they want to come back, let them come
back”. But nobody ever came back, for the coyote prevailed. Last of all,
the coyote brought fire into the world, for the Indians were freezing. He
journeyed far to the west, to a place where there was fire, stole some of it,
and brought it home in his ears. He kindled a fire in the mountains, and
the Indians saw the smoke of it, and went up and got fire; so they were
warmed and comforted, and have kept it ever since.
Following are the Pit River numerals, in Big Valley:
One. ha-mis’. Six. ma-shuts.
Two. hak. Seven. | haé-kuts.
Three. | chast. Eight. | ha-ta-mé-leh
Four. ha-tam’. Nine. mo-losch’-i-jin.
Five. ]A-tu. Ten. mo-losch’-i.
The word for ‘‘ nine” means “ pretty near ten”.
18 To
274. THE ACHOMAWI.
THE PA’-KA-MAL-LI.
Such is the name applied to the tribe living on Hat Creek, the most
warlike tribe in all the Pit River basin, and the one most dreaded by the
timid aborigines of Sacramento Valley. The Achomawi tell me their
language is somewhat different from their own, though a good many words
are identical, so that they easily learn each other’s tongues; but that in
Indian Valley, and as far east as Big Meadows, the Indians are substantially
the same as the Maidu. Some years ago all the Pit River tribes and the
Pakamalli hatched a conspiracy to go over in a body and remain with the
Paiuti until the soldiers should be withdrawn from Pit River, when they
would. descend on it, massacre all the whites, and recover their ancient
domain, together with many cattle and horses. From their geographical
position these tribes are more friendly to the Paiuti than most California
Indians are.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE NO’-ZI, ETC.
One of the most dreaded enemies of the great Wintiin nation was the
little tribe called N6-zi, or N6-si
themselves inferior to the terrible Pakamalli of Hat Creek, they were a
a whale pursued by a sword-fish. Though
constant terror to the effeminate dwellers in the rich and sweltering valley
of the Sacramento, and kept them hemmed in all along from Battle Creek
nearly up to Pit River, on a margin only about a mile wide. Indeed, with
this fierce and restless little tribe forever on their flank, always ready to
pounce upon them, it is singular that the Wintiin maintained such a long
and narrow ribbon of villages on the east bank, isolated from the main
body of their nation on the west bank, especially when they had no means
of communication but rafts. Every year during the salmon season, June
and July, their days were spent in dread, and their nights in sleeplessness,
on account of the tormenting Nozi, who were now making frequent dashes
down on the river. Not content with the limited run of salmon up the
creeks whose banks they occupied, they made forays under their celebrated
chief, Polillis, on the Sacramento, and though coming for fish they never
neglected an opportunity to carry away women and children into the foot-
hills for slaves. Jor several years before 1849 Major Reading, living on
the west bank, was largely engaged in trapping for furs, and the Nozi gave
his trappers endless trouble.
Round Mountain and the valleys of Oak Run and Clover Creek were
their principal habitat, though it is pretty certain that they formerly
extended as far south as Battle Creek. The handful of them still living
can give no information on the subject, but the above are their territorial
limits as described by the pioneers.
Though living at a little higher altitude than the Wintin they are not
quite so tall as they, but are several shades lighter-colored. They are
275
276 THE NOZI, ETC.
rather undersized, even for California Indians, and are quite a delicate,
small limbed, handsome race. With their hazel complexions; smooth,
polished skins; smallish, ovoid faces; and lithe, well-knit frames, they
present a race-type different from any other to be seen in California.
Pwi-es’-si, the present chief, a very polite, innocent little man, who had
never been away from Oak Run in his life, as he stood in the hay-field at
the head of his mowers, in his neat, well-fitting garments, leaning in a
picturesque attitude on his scythe, presented a very pleasing view. His
eye was soft and gentle, his voice was mild, his manners much more refined
than is the wont of the hay-field, so that he seemed the farthest possible
remove from his warlike progenitors whom the pioneers describe.
As the stature of the Nozi is short at best, so the children are slow in
attaining it. They often remain mere dwarfs until they are ten or fifteen
years old, when they start and shoot up suddenly eighteen inches or so.
They have a reputation for honesty above their neighbors. A ranch-
man states that he has frequently known them to bring in strayed cattle on
their own motion. They adapted themselves early to the necessities of
labor and the usages of civilization. Many years ago—so early in the
history of the State that they were obliged to content themselves, master
and man, with the primitive repast of boiled wheat and beef—John Love
sometimes had a hundred Nozi in his employment at once; and they
labored faithfully, as they do to-day.
As the Nozi were so early civilized, and are so nearly extinct, it is not
easy to learn much concerning’ their aboriginal usages. ‘The principal
interest attaching to them is the question of their origin. There is an
ancient tradition, related by themselves to Major Reading many years ago,
that their ancestors came from a country very far toward the rising sun.
They journeyed a great many moons, crossing forests, prairies, mountains,
plains, deserts, and rivers so great, according to their description, that they
could have been found nowhere except in the interior of the continent.
At length they came to a delightful land and to a timid’and feeble folk, where
they conquered for themselves a dwelling-place, and rested therein. The
narrator of this story states that Major Reading once showed him an old
flint-lock musket which he had found in possession of the Nozi, and which
A CONJECTURE—THE MILI. CREEK INDIANS. 277
had been so worn by being loaded with gravel that it was as thin as paper
at the muzzle. It was not known how they could have obtained it, unless
they had brought it with them from the Atlantic States; and it was Major
Reading’s conjecture that they were the descendants of the remnants of
King Philip’s tribe, of New England. I know not if this story is of
any importance. Pwiessi knew nothing whatever concerning it, but his
information was very limited on all subjects. The one crucial test would
be that of language. I have at hand nothing from which I can obtain a
vocabulary of King Philip’s nation. The Nozi numerals are very peculiar
in their formation, unlike anything I have found in California. For the
benefit of anybody who may have the means of making a comparision, I
subjoin them:
One. pai-ki-mo’-na. Six. pur-han-mo’-na.
Two. o-mich-i-mo’-na. Seven. | chu-mi-man-mo’-na.
Three. | pul-mich-i-mo’-na. | Eight. | taum-han-mo’-na.
Four. | tau-mi-mo’-na. Nine. | paitsch-o-ma-ta’-na.
Five. chi-man-mo’-na. Ten. hakh-hen-mo’-na.
THE KOM’-BO.
In writing of this tribe, | am compelled for once to forego the name
employed by themselves. It is not known to any man living save them-
selves, and probably it will not be until the grave gives up its dead. The
above is the name given to them by their neighbors of Indian Valley, a
tribe of the Maidu Nation.
If the Nozi are a peculiar people, these are extraordinary; if the Nozi
appear to be foreign to California, these are doubly foreign. They seem
likely to present a spectacle which is without a parallel in human history—
that of a barbaric race resisting civilization with arms in their hands, to the
last man, and the last squaw, and the last pappoose. They were once a nu-
merous and thrifty tribe. Now there are only five of them left—two men,
two women, and a child. No human eye ever beholds them, except now
and then some lonely hunter, perhaps, prowling and crouching for days over
the voleanic wastes and scraggy forests which they inhabit. Just at night-
278 THE NOZI, ETC.
fall he may catch a glimpse of a faint camp-fire, with fig
ures flitting about
it; but before he can creep within rifle-range of it the figures have disap-
peared, the flame wastes slowly out, and he arrives only to find that the
objects of his search have indeed been there before him, but are gone.
They cooked there their hasty evening repast, but they will sleep some-
where else, with no camp-fire to guide a lurking enemy within reach. For
days and weeks together they never touch the earth, stepping always from
one volcanic stone to another. They never leave a broken twig or a dis-
turbed leaf behind them. Probably no day of the year ever passes over
their heads but some one of this doomed nation of five sits crouching on a
hillock or in a tree-top, within easy eye-shot of his fellows; and not a hare
“an move upon the earth beneath without its motions being heeded and
recorded by the watcher’s eye. There are men in and around Chico who
have sworn a great oath of vengeance that these five Indians shall die a
bloody death; but weeks, months, and years have passed away, and
brought for their oaths no fulfillment. There is now wanting only a month
of four years since they have ever been seen together so that their number
could be certainly known. In February, 1870, some hunters had sue-
ceeded in capturing the two remaining squaws, whereupon they opened
communication with the men, and promised them a safe-conduct and the
release of their squaws if they would come in and promise to abandon hos-
tilities. The two men came in, bringing the child. It was the intention of
the hunters, as one of them candidly avowed to me, to have seized them
and secretly put the whole fivé out of existence. While they were in
camp, one of the hunters conceived an absurd whim to weigh himself, and
threw a rope over a limb for that purpose, at which the wily savages
took fright, and they all bounded away like frightened deer and escaped.
But they had remained long enough for an American, as eagle-eyed as them-
selves, to observe that one of the two warriors had a gunshot wound in one
hand, and many others on his arm, forming an almost unbroken cicatrix
from hand to elbow. Probably no white man’s eyes will ever again behold
them all together alive.
When they were more numerous than now, they occupied both Mill
Creek and Deer Creek; but nowadays they live wholly in the great vol-
A WAR TO THE DEATH. 279
canic terraces and low mountains west of Mill Creek Meadows. Down to
1858 they lived at peace with the whites, but since that time they have
waged unrelenting and ceaseless war—ceaseless except for a casual truce
like that above described. Their hostilities have been characterized by so
many and such awful atrocities that there are men, as above-mentioned,
who have sworn an oath that they shall die. All these seventeen years
they have warred against the world and against fate. Expelled from the
rich and teeming meadows which were their chosen home ; hemmed in on
these great, hot, voleanic table-lands where nothing can live but a few
stunted trees, and so destitute of water that this forms at once a security
against civilized foes and their own constant menace of death—a region
accursed-of Heaven and spewed out even by the earth—they have seen one
after another of the craven tribes bow the knee and make terms with the
enemy; but still their voice has been stern and steady for war ; still they
have crouched and hovered in their almost disembodied life over these arid
plains until all are gone but five. Despite all their bloody and hellish
treacheries, there is something sublime in this.
So far as their customs have been observed, they have some which are
Californian, but more which are decidedly foreign. They burn the dead,
and are remarkably fond of bathing.
On the other hand, the customs which are foreign to California are
numerous and significant. First, they have no assembly chamber and con-
sequently no indoor dances, but only circular dances in the open air. ‘The
assembly chamber is the one capital shibboleth of the California Indian.
Second, they did not erect the warm and heavily-earthed lodges which the
Indians of this State are so fond of, but mere brush-wood shelters, and often
they had no refuge but caves and dens. Third, they inflicted cruel and awful
tortures on their captives, like the Algonkin races. Whatever abomina-
tions the indigenous races may have perpetrated on the dead, the torture
of the living was essentially foreign to California. Fourth, they had a
mode of capturing deer which no other California tribe employed, as far as
known. Taking the antlers of a buck when they were green and velvety,
they split them open on the under side and removed the pith, which ren-
280 THE NOZI, ETC.
dered them so light that an Indian could carry them on his head. Then
he would dress himself in the skin and go to meet the herd, or rather thrust
his head out from the bushes, taking care not to expose himself too much,
and imitate the peculiar habit which a buck has of constantly groping about
with his head, lifting it wp and down, nibbling a little here and a little there.
At a proper time he would shoot an arrow into one of them, and the stupid
things would stare and step softly about, in their peering and inquisitive
way, until a number of them were knocked over. Fifth, their unconquer-
able and undying determination to fight it out to the bitter end is nota Cal-
ifornia Indian trait. Sixth, their aboriginal habit of singeing or cropping off
their hair within an inch of their heads contrasts strongly with the long
locks of the Californians.
Several years ago this tribe committed a massacre near Chico, and
Sandy Young, a renowned hunter of that country, with a companion, cap-
tured two squaws, a mother and a daughter, who promised to guide them
to the camp of the murderers. They set out at nightfall in the dead of
winter. It was sleeting, raining, and blowing that night as if ‘the de’il had
business on his hands”. But they passed rapidly on without halt or hesi-
tation, for the squaws led the way boldly. From nightfall until long after
midnight they held on their dreary trail, stumbling and floundering occa-
sionally, but speaking scarcely a word; nor was there a moment’s cessation
in the execrable, bitter sleet and rain. At length they came to a creek
which was swollen and booming. In the pitchy darkness it was manifestly
impassable. They sounded it in various places, and could find no crossing.
While the hunters were groping hither and thither, and shouting to each
other above the raging of the torrent, the squaws disappeared. No halloo-
ing could elicit a response from them. 'The two men considered themselves
betrayed, and prepared for treachery. Suddenly there came floating out
on the storm and the roaring a thin young squeal. The party had been
re-enforced by one. ‘The hunters then grasped the situation, and, laughing,
set about collecting some dry stuff and making a fire. They were benumbed
and half-frozen themselves, and supposed of course the women would come
in as soon as they observed the fire. But no, they wanted no fire, or, if they
did, their aboriginal modesty would not allow them to resort to it under these
A TALE OF A WINTER MIDNIGHT. 281
circumstances. ‘The grandmother took the new-born babe, amid the almost
palpable blackness of darkness, the sleeting, and the yelling winds, and
dipped it in the ice-cold creek. Again and again she dipped it, while now
and then the hunters could hear its stout-lunged protest above the roaring.
Not only did the infant survive this unparalleled treatment, but it grew
excellently well. In memory of the extraordinary circumstances under
which it was ushered into this world, Young named it ‘‘ Snow-flake,” and
it is living to. this day, a wild-eyed lad in Tehama.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE MAI/-DU, OR MAI’ DEH.
This is a large nation, extending from the Sacramento to Honey Lake,
and from Big Chico Creek to Bear River. As usual in the case of an exten-
sive nation in this State, they have no name of general application, except
that they all call themselves maz’-du, mai'-deh Indians). Of separate tribes or
villages there are many. I give what I could collect, first premising that
the same name is applied to the locality and to the inhabitants of it, hough
this is not always the case, for there is a village on Chico Creek whose
inhabitants are called O-td-ki, while the village itself is known as O-ta-
ktim’-ni.
In Indian Valley, up in the mountains, are the To-si-ko-yo; at Big
Meadows, the Né-kum; at Susanville, the Ku-lé-mum. On Feather River
are the Ol’-la, opposite the mouth of Bear River; next above, on the same
side, the Kil/-meh, the Hoak (Hock), the Ti-shum, the Wi-ma, and the
Yii-ba, the latter being opposite the mouth of Yuba River. Next, on the left
bank, are the Toam/-cha and the Hoan’-kut, the latter being just below the
mouth ofthe Honeut Creek. Then, on the right bank again are the Bé-ka,
the Tai’-chi-da, the Bai’-yu, and the Hol-é-lu-pai, the latter being oppo-
site Oroville. The Taichida had avery large town, and their chief in early
days was Ya-hai’-lum. On Honeut Creek, going up, are the Té-to and the
Hel’-to; on Butte Creek, the Es’-kin; on Chico Creek, the Mich-op’-do.
In Concow Valley are the Kon’-kau, once a large and powerful tribe, and
probably the best representatives of this nation. On the Yuba, at Nevada
City, are the Us-t6-ma; lower down, the Pan’-pa-kan. All these tribes, in
giving their full designation, add the word maidu, thus Ustoma Maidu.
Bear River and all its tributaries were occupied by the Nishinam, so that
282
OLD CAMPING-GROUNDS IN THE SIERRA NEVADA. 283
the real boundary between them and the Maidu was on the plains, midway
between Bear River and the Yuba.
There is little to be said respecting the etymology of these geographi-
cal names. “ Konkau” is from ‘ Ké-yoang-kau”, which is composed of
ké-yo, ‘a plain”, and kau, “the earth” or ‘“‘a place”. There are three
creeks called by these Indians Chi-lam-shu (Chico Creek), Kim’-shu, and
Nim’-shu ; the second of these is from ké-wim sé-u (little water), and the last
from nem sé-u (big water). The word sé-w, which appears in all these three
names, is rendered by the Indians ‘ river” (‘‘ water” being mé-mih) ; but I
am inclined to believe it originally signified “ water”.
Althougl the California Indians perhaps lived as peacefully together
as any tribes on the continent, they were careful so to place their camps or
villages as to prevent surprise. Necessity compels them to live near a
stream or a spring; so in the mountains they generally select a sheltered,
open cove, where an enemy could not easily approach within bow-shot with-
out being discovered, and where there is a knoll in the cove to afford good
drainage. But there are frequently what might be called hill-stations, or
out-posts, commanding a still wider prospect, though often some distance
from water, in which either the warriors alone or the whole village took up
their residence when war was raging. These are generally on bold prom-
ontories overlooking the stream, but there are indications that they con-
tained substantial lodges, and even the dance-hovse, or council-house,
wherein the warriors would assemble for deliberation, and perhaps for
safety.
The Paiuti always made their camps on hill-tops, compelling the squaws
to bring up water in willow jugs; and Kit Carson used to say that the rea-
son so many emigrants were killed in early days was because they would
camp by the stream, where the Indians were able to pounce down upon
them. Some account for these hill-stations in California on the ground
that when the miners made their irruption into the country and followed
up all the streams, the Indians who were timid or hostile moved back into -
the hills, where they sometimes lived several years before they finally
became reconciled; but the true explanation is that above given.
The old camping-grounds are always marked by a layer of rich, black
284 THE MAIDU.
mold, accumulated from the leavings of years. They seem sometimes to
live on these spots, off and on, so long that they become foul and unwhole-
some from the exhalations (for they are not nice, and use no disinfectants) ;
then they abandon them, and years elapse before they camp on them again.
Sometimes, and perhaps more frequently, they abandon them on account
of deaths, though these deaths may have been caused by noxious effluvia.
A few words will suffice to describe a hamlet. It stands on a gentle
knoll beside a small, living stream, the bed of which is a dense jungle of
willows and aquatic weeds. Back of the village the low, rounded hills
spread away in the arid, sweltering air, tawny-colored, and crisped in the
pitiless drought, with here and there a wisp of faded poison-oak, or a clump
of evergreen chaparral, or a low, leaden-green, thin-haired silver-pine,
scarcely able to cast a shadow in the fierce, blinding glare of a California
summer. Crowning the knoll, the dome-shaped assembly or dance house
swells broadly up—a barbaric temple—in the middle of the hamlet, and an
Indian is occasionally seen passing on all-fours in or out the low arched
entrance ; hard by which stands a solitary white-oak, that swings its circling
shadow over the village. Half a dozen conical, smoke-blackened lodges
are scattered over the knoll, each with its open side on the north to protect
the inmates from the sunshine, and rude wickiups or brush-awnings stretch
raggedly from one to another, or are thrown out as wings on either side.
One or more acorn-granaries of wicker-work stand around each lodge,
much like hogsheads in shape and size, either on the ground or mounted
on posts as high as one’s head, full of acorns, and capped with thatch.
Drowse, drowse, mope, is the order of the hour. All through the long
sweltering days there is not a sound in the hamlet unless it is the eternal
thump, thump of some squaw pounding up acorns. Within the heavily-
earthed assembly-house it is cool and dark, and here the men lie on the
earth-floor with their heads pillowed on the low bank around the side; but
the women do not enter, for it is forbidden to them except on festival days.
They and the children find the coolest places they can outside. The
younger Indians are mostly dressed in clothing in which it is possible to
recognize the civilized cut and fit; the old men, if the weather is not im-
moderately hot, wear mostly assemblages of picked-up raiment; but the old
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CONTRIVANCES FOR SNARING FOWL. 285
women havea single garment much the shape of a wool-sack, sleeveless, and
gathered at the neck with a string, more or less white once, but now, after
the lapse of unnumbered washing-days when they did no washing, taking
on the rich color known as isabel. When they are sitting on top of some
great rock, pounding acorns between their legs in their clumsy way, they lay
aside even this garment. There is nothing so intensely stupid and vacuous
as the Indian’s daily life—the man’s part of it.
The Maidu have two contrivances for snaring wild-fowl that I have
not seen elsewhere. One of them is a loose-woven net which is stretched
perpendicularly on two rods running parallel with the surface of the water.
The lower rod is lifted up a few inches so that the net is not taut, but hangs
down in a fold or trough. When the ducks are flying low, almost skim-
ming the water, they thrust their heads through the meshes of the net, while
their bodies drop down into the fold, which prevents them from fluttering
loose. The other contrivance is also a net, stretched on a frame projecting
up out of the water in a shallow place. The Indian fastens decoy-ducks
close by the net, or sprinkles berries on the bottom to attract the fowl.
He has a string attached to the frame and leading to the shore, where he sits
holding the end of it behind the bushes. When the ducks are swimming
about close to the net, he twitches it over them, and they thrust their heads
up through it, which prevents them from diving or flying away. The In-
dian runs down quickly, treading at every step on the string, to hold the
fowl securely until he can reach them. With either of these contrivances
they would sometimes snare a whole flock at once.
Of dances the Hololupai Maidu have a large number, each being cele-
brated in its yearly season. One of the most important of these is the acorn
dance (ka-mi’-ni kon-pe'-wa la-hoam’, literally “the all-eating dance”),
which is observed in autumn, soon after the winter rains set in, to insure a
bountiful crop of acorns the following year. Assembled together through-
out their villages, from fifty to a hundred or more in a council-house, men,
women, and children, they dance standing in two circles, the men in one
the women in the other. The former are decorated with all their wealth of
feathers, the women with beads, ete. After a certain length of time the
dance ceases, and two venerable, silver-haired priests come forward with
286 THE MAIDU.
gorgeous head-dresses and long mantles of black eagle’s feathers, and take
their stations on opposite sides of one of the posts supporting the roof.
Resting their chins on this, with their faces turned up toward heaven, each, in
turn, makes a solemn and earnest supplication to the spirits, chanting short
sentences in their occult priestly language, to which the other occasionally
makes response. At longer intervals the whole congregation respond ‘“ Ho!”
equivalent to “amen”, and there is a momentary pause of profound silence,
during which a pin could be heard to drop. Then the dance is resumed, and
the whole multitude join in it, while one keeps time by stamping with his
foot on a large hollow slab. These exercises continue for many hours, and
at imtervals acorn-porridge is handed about, of which all partake liberally
without leaving the dance-house. Of the religious character of these exer-
cises there can be no doubt.
Then there is the clover dance (he’-lin ka-mi'-ni, “the great dance”),
which is celebrated in the blossom-time of clover, in concentric circles like
the above, but outdoors, and not attended with anything that could be called
religious ceremonies. The men often dance with a fanatic violence and
persistence until they are reeking with perspiration, and then plunge into
cold water or stretch themselves at full length on the ground in a manner
that would insure a white man the rheumatism.
Upon the ripening of manzanita berries comes the manzanita dance,
(wi'-du-kan ka-mi'-ni, “the little dance”), which is about like that last
described.
Then there is the great spirit dance (he'-lin ka-ki’-ni ka-mi'-ni), which
is held in propitiation of the demons. The reader must not for a moment
confound this great spirit with the being so called by the Algonkin races,
for he has nothing whatever to do with their cosmogony ; he created noth-
ing, is powerful only for evil, and is nothing more nor less than the chief of
the imps or goblins supposed to haunt certain hills or other localities.
The dance for the dead (tsi’-pi ka-mi'-ni, “the weeping dance”) will
be found described in the last chapter.
Lastly there is a dance called walin-hu'-pi ka-mi'-ni, (this will not bear
translation), which is held in the open air at pleasure, chiefly in the clover
season. ‘The maidens dance this alone in the evening. They join hands in
RELIGIOUS IDEAS—SONGS. 287
a circle and swing merrily around an old man seated upon the grass, chant-
ing to a lively step; then presently they break the circle with screams and
laughter, and flee in every direction. The young men waiting near pursue
and capture each his mistress, and kindly, liberal night draws her sable
curtain over the scene that ensues.
Many of them believe in the annihilation of the soul, or as Blind
Charlie expressed it to me, ‘that they will never live any more”. It is not
annihilation, pure and simple, of which the Indians are probably incapable
of conceiving; but they think that many departed spirits enter into inani-
mate forms, as the mountains, rocks, trees, or into animals, especially the
grizzly bear and the rattlesnake In this latter case it is simply transmi-
gration.
They have a conception of a Great Man (he’-lin mai’-du), who created
the world and all its inhabitants. The earth was primarily a globe of molten
matter, and from that the principle of fire ascended through the roots into
the trunk and branches of trees, whence the Indians can extract it by means
of their drill. The Great Man created woman first, and then cohabited
with her, and from their issue the world was peopled. Lightning is the
Great Man himself descending swiftly. out of heaven, and rending the trees
with his flaming arm. According to another and prettier fancy, thunder
and lightning are two malignant spirits, struggling with all their fearful and
incendiary power to destroy mankind. The rainbow is a good spirit, mild
and peaceful, which overcomes them with its gentle sway, mollifies their
rage, and permits the human race to occupy the earth a little longer.
Besides the wholly unmeaning choruses which they have in common
with all, they possess also some songs which are really entitled to the name,
having a body of intelligible words and expressing sentiments. I heard an
Indian at Oroville sing one, called “a song of rejoicing” (so’-lim wuk'-tem
tu'-lim-shim), which was a schottish, and very pretty. But it was still prettier
when played on the flute by an American, and I deeply regretted my
inability to write down music from the ear. It was a most gay and trip-
ping little sprite, sweet, and wild, and wayward, with bold dashes across an
octave, and seeming to be wholly out of joint, because of having hardly
any two consecutive notes on the same line. It was quite lengthy, requir-
288 THE MAIDU.
ing about two minutes in the playing. What would I not have given to
be able to preserve for better musicians this sweet, weird piece of savage
melody!
WO’-LOK-KI AND YO’-TO-WI.
Wo’-lok-ki and Yo’-to-wi were Konkau Indians, brother and sister, and
young children when their tribe first became acquainted with the whites.
One morning at daylight a foray was made on their native village, their
parents put to flight, many were killed, and these children with others were
carried away into captivity. The boy had, in ten minutes’ time, torn away
a hole in the chaparral, and hidden himself and his little sister therein so
completely that they would not have been discovered if their dog had not
followed and revealed their hiding-place. By some good fortune they were
not separated, but were carried, first, in a pair of huge saddle-bags, made
for the purpose, one suspended on each side of the horse, with their heads
just peeping out; and afterward in a wagon, with a number of others, all
snugly packed on the floor, and covered with deer-skins, bear-skins, and
other peltries. In passing through a town the wagon attracted suspicion,
and was halted and slightly searched by the officers of the law, but nothing
was discovered contraband. With the strange instinct of their race, the
young captives did not ery out, or whimper, or move a muscle, but lay as
still as young quails lie in the chaparral when the hawk is hovering over-
head. ‘The wagon was suffered to proceed, but in another town it was
halted and searched again, more thoroughly, and the young Indians brought
to light. For the vindication of the excellent majesty of American law, it
was necessary that there should be a prosecution of the kidnapper, and he
was gently muleted in the sum of $100, and the good citizens of the place
took away his captives from him, and they became “apprenticed” unto
them! It chanced that our little hero and heroine thus passed into the pos-
session of a great philanthropist of those regions, whose voice had often
been mightily lifted up in denunciation of the infamies of this “Indian slave-
trade”. He kept them some time, and finally transferred them to a negro
barber in exchange for a stove, did this philanthropist! The barber did not
keep them long, but sold them for $25 apiece, the usual price of an Indian
THE RETURN OF THE CAPTIVES. 289
boy in those times. Thus they passed from one to another until seven or
eight years had elapsed, and they were grown nearly to maturity; but they
still remained unseparated.
At the end of this period they regained their liberty, and at once they
set out together to return to their native valley. It was many days’ journey
for them, for they traveled afoot, but at last they arrived in sight of the
village wherein they were born. By some means the news of their escape
and return had preceded them, and the parents now learned for the first
time that their long-lost children were still alive. :
The wanderers now approach the village. They enter, and are guided
by friends to the paternal wigwam, for there are many changes since they
saw the village last. Ascending the earthen dome, they go down the well-
worn ladder in the center, and seat themselves without a word. The father
and mother give one hasty glance at them, but no more, and not a word is
uttered. What the exceeding great joy of their hearf&§ is, heaven and
themselves alone know; but from all the spectator can read in their still,
passionless faces, he would not know that they had ever borne any children,
or mourned them for years with that great and unforgetting sorrow that
savages sometimes know. An hour passes away, and still not a word is
spoken, not even a single glance of recognition exchanged. "The returned
captives sit in motionless silence, while the father and mother move about
the lodge on their various duties. An hour and a half is gone. The
parents turn now and then a sudden and stolen look upon their waiting
children. Two hours or more elapse. The glances become more frequent
and bolder. It is now perhaps three hours since the captives entered, and
yet not a whisper. But at last all the fullness of time of savage custom
and savage etiquette is rounded and complete. The waiting hearts of the
aged father and mother are full to bursting. Their eyes are filled with
tears. They turn and speak to their children by name. They rush to
them, they fall upon their necks, and together they mingle their tears, their
strange outcries of joy, and their sobs.
To the reader this may seem extravagant and impossible, but, with the
exception of a few minor particulars, it is a true story, illustrating a social
custom of this singular race. In receiving a guest, the Konkau frequently
19 TC
290 THE MAIDU.
wait two or three hours before they address him. The substance of the
above story was related to me by an American, who was an eye-witness of
the captives’ return.
LEGEND OF THE FLOOD.
Of old the Indians abode tranquilly in the Sacramento Valley, and
were happy. All on a sudden there was a mighty and swift rushing of
waters, so that the whole valley became like the Big Water, which no man
can measure. The Indians fled for their lives, but a great many were over-
taken by the waters, and they slept beneath the waves. Also, the frogs
and the salmon pursued swiftly after them, and they ate many Indians.
Thus all the Indians were drowned but two, who escaped into the foot-hills.
But the Great Man gave these two fertility and blessed them, so that the
world was soon repeopled. From these two there sprung many tribes, even
a mighty nation, and one man was chief over all this nation—a chief greatly
known in the world, of large renown. ‘Then he went out on a knoll over-
looking the wide waters, and he knew that they covered fertile plains once
inhabited by his ancestors. Nine sleeps he lay on the knoll, turning over
and over in his mind the thoughts of these great waters, and he strove to
think how they came upon the land. Nine sleeps he lay without food, for
he lived on his thoughts alone, and his mind was always thinking of this
only: ‘How did this deep water cover the face of the world”? And at
the end of nine sleeps he was changed. He was no more like himself before,
for now no arrow could wound him. Though a thousand Indians should shoot
at him, not one flint-pointed arrow would pierce his skin. He was like the
Great Man in heaven, for no man could slay him forevermore. Then he
spoke to the Great Man, and commanded him to let the water flow off from
the plains which his ancestors had inhabited. The Great Man did this; he
rent open the side of the mountain, and the water flowed away into the Big
Water.
The following legend is taken from Bean’s ‘History and Directory of
Nevada County”:
THE LION AND THE CAT.
It was a long time ago. A California lion and his younger brother,
THE LION AND THE WILD-CAT. 291
the wild-cat, lived in a big wigwam together. The lion was strong and
fleet of foot. He was more than a match for most of the animals he wanted
to eat. But he could not cope with the grizzly, or the serpent that crawled
on the earth. His young brother was wise. He had a wonderful power.
From a magical ball of great beauty he derived an influence potent to
destroy all the animals his older brother was afraid of.. They hunted
together, the cat going before. One day—it was a long time ago—the two
went out to hunt. ‘There is a bear”, said the lion. The cat, pointing to
the bear, said, “Die”, and the bear fell dead. They next met a serpent,
and he was killed in like manner. They skinned the snake and took along
his skin for its magical power. A little farther on two large and very
beautiful deer were found feeding together. ‘‘ Kill one of these for your-
self”, said the boy brother to his man brother, “but catch me the other
alive.” The lion gave chase, and at night he returned to his wigwam.
“Did you bring me back one of the beautiful deer”? said the cat. “No”,
said the lion, ‘it was too much work; I killed them both.” Then the cat
was sorry, and did not love his brother. They were estranged. The cat
would not go out to slay the bear and the snake any more, and the lion
would not go out for fear of the bear and the snake. He thought he would
use the magical ball of his brother, the cat, and learn to kill the bear and
the snake himself. One day—it was a long time ago—the lion was playing
with the ball, and, tossing it up, he saw it go up and up, and out of sight.
It never came down. Then the deer scattered all over the earth and the
hunting has been poor ever since. The cat was disconsolate for the loss
of the magical ball. He left the wigwam to wander alone. He sorrowed
for his loss and looked to find the ball again. It was along time ago. Big
water run all around from “ Lankee” Jim to Humbug, and away up to the
high mountains. The wild-cat went north. He climbed a tree by the water.
He wished for the lost ball. By and by he saw a beautiful ball hanging,
like a buckeye, on a limb. He picked it off. It was very pretty. He
put it in the snake-skin to keep it so it would not get away. He went
along the shore of the big water till he could see across it. ‘Two girls were
on the other side cooking. The ball jumped out of the snake-skin and
rolled over in the water. It went across the river. One of the girls came
292. THE MAIDU.
down to the stream to get some water in her basket, and saw the beautiful
ball rolling and shining in the water. She tried to dip it up in her basket.
But it would rollaway. She said, ‘“ Sister, come and help me catch this beau-
tiful ball.” The sister came. They tried a long time, but finally caught it
in the basket. It was bright and very pretty. They were afraid it would
get away. One held it for a time, and then the other. They were very
glad. At night they put it between them in the bed. They kept awake a
long time and talked about their prize. But at last they fell asleep. They
woke in the morning—the ball was gone—there was lying between them a
full-grown young man. And that was the first man that ever came on the
earth. This was a long time ago.
CREATION AND FALL OF MAN.
K6-do-yam-peh, the world-maker, and Hel’-lo-kai-eh, the devil, came
from the east to We-lé-u-deh. Kodoyampeh said he would make a man,
but Hellokaieh told him he could not do it, and dared him to attempt it.
But Kodoyampeh repeated that he could do it. So he went out and got
two smooth, yellow sticks (yo-ké-lon-cha), and laid them on the bed beside
him at evening, and said they would turn into aman and woman during
the night, but they would not by day.
So the world-maker and the devil went to bed. Through the night
the devil often waked up his companion and asked him if the two sticks
had turned to a man and a woman yet. He made fun of him, and asked
him if he felt them move about in the bed. But Kodoyampeh replied that
he must not trouble him, or it would not happen.
Thus the night passed away, and early in the morning Kodoyampeh
felt two touches on his body. Looking up quick, he saw a man and a
woman. He rose from his bed, and made them get up and go bathe them-
selves and then come and eat. When Hellokaieh came in he claimed the
woman as his sister and the man as his brother-in-law. Kodoyampeh suf-
fered this for the time.
Then the devil said to Kodoyampeh that if he would give him two
sticks he would do the same thing, and create a man and a woman.
Kodoyampeh did so, and the devil took the two sticks and laid them beside
THE WORLD-MAKER AND THE DEVIL. 293
him on his bed. Many times during the night he looked to see if a man
had appeared yet, but saw nobody. At last, about daybreak, he fell asleep.
Presently he was awakened by two lusty thumps in the ribs, when he
jumped up quickly, laughing, and saw two women, one with two eyes
and the other with only one. He asked each one in turn, “Are you a
man”? But each replied, “No, Iam a woman ; we are two sisters.”
Then the devil was sorely perplexed, because he could do nothing
without a man. He asked Kodoyampeh why he had not succeeded, and
Kodoyampeh said it was because he had laughed, whereas he had expressly
charged him not to laugh. The devil answered that he could not help it
when he got two such sharp digs in the ribs. He asked Kodoyampeh if he
would not make a man for him, but he refused. Then he asked him at
least to make him a two-eyed woman; but Kodoyampeh said he could not
do it until they were dead. This, then, is the reason why one-eyed men
and women are seen in the world to-day.’
After this Kodoyampeh sent on the earth the man whom he had
created to gather food from the face of it. Now, before this all the game
and all the fish, the grasshoppers, the birds of the air, and the insects of
the earth had been tame, so that a man had only to reach forth his hand
among them and take whatever he wished for his food. Also the soil had
been prolific up to this time, yielding all products, acorns, manzanita ber-
ries, pine-nuts, and many kinds of rich grass-seed for the sustenance of
man. So when Kodoyampeh sent forth the man whom he had made he
told him to take freely of all that he saw and desired—of the game and the
fish and the birds and the nuts, seeds, and berries—for all these things he
had created for him. One injunction only he laid upon him, and that was
that he should bring home to his house whatever he wished to cook, and
not kindle a fire in the woods.
So the man-went out to catch game, but the devil saw him and told
him to cook in the woods whatever he wished. And he did so. Therefore
all the game and the fish, all the grasshoppers, the birds, and the insects,
when they saw the smoke in the woods, became wild, as they are to-day.
More than that, the ground was changed, so that the oaks yielded no more
acorns, and the manzanita bushes no more berries, nor was there anything
294 THE MAIDU.
left for the food of man on the face of the earth, save only roots, clover,
and earth-worms. These three things were all that men had to eat.
Also Kodoyampeh changed the air so that it was no longer always the
same the year round, but now there was frost, and rain, and fog, and wind, and
heat, and drought, together with the pleasant days. Asa recompense he gave
them fire to warm themselves, whereas before they had had only stones to
press against their bodies. He established the seasons—Kum’-men-ni (the
rain season); Yo’-ho-men-ni (the leaf season); I’-hi-lak-ki (the dry season);
Mat’-men-ni (the falling-leaf season). He also instituted the sacred kw'-meh,
the assembly-hall, and gave the Konkau songs to sing, but he did not yet
give them any dances. Before this time they had had no diseases and no
deaths, but after they cooked and ate in the woods they became subject to
fever and pestilences, and many died. But Kodoyampeh told them that if
they were good, at death they would go away to the spirit-land by the right-
hand path (yim’-dim-bo), which is light ; but if they were bad they would go
away by the left-hand path (dak’-kim-bo), which leads away into darkness.
LEGEND OF OAN-KOI’-TU-PEH.
An old man named Pi-u’-chun-nuh, long ago, lived at We-le’-u-deh
(above Oroville near Cherokee Flat). In those days the Indians lived
wholly on clover, roots, and earth-worms; there was ne game, no fish,
no acorns, no nuts, no grasshoppers. Piuchunnuh went about everywhere,
praying to hear a voice; he prayed to the woods, and to the rocks, and to
the river. He prayed in the assembly-house, and listened if perchance he
might hear a voice answering his prayer. But he heard nothing. He went
to the oak and looked to see if it bore acorns, but it had only leaves; he
went to the manzanita bush and looked for berries, but it had only leaves.
He brought the leaves in the house and he prayed three days and nights ;
but still no answer, no voice.
Far away to the north, in the ice-land, there lived two old men, Hai’-
kut-wo-to-peh (the great one’, and Woan’-no-mih (the death-giver).
Piuchunnuh resolved to send for them. He sent a boy to see them, and
the boy went like a humming-bird, and reached the ice-land in one day.
These two old men lived in a house and they were asleep inside (it was in
THE TWO OLD MEN OF THE ICE-LAND. 295
the daytime), each in his own bed, placed on poles which reached across
overhead—the attic of the wigwam. Their hair was so long that as they
lay it reached down to the floor. The boy wentin. The old men awakened
and asked him what he had come for. He told them he was sent by Piu-
chunnuh to ask them to come to him. They asked him if he had no other
errand. He said he had not. They knew all this before, but they asked
the boy to see what he would answer. The boy offered to wait and show
them the way, but they told him to go on back for they knew the way and
would come alone. They told him they would be there that night; that
they must wait until evening before starting, because they never traveled in
the daytime and did not wish to be seen by anybody.
So the boy started home, and as soon as he went out of the house the
two old men got down out of their beds, and the noise of their alighting
was like thunder. They shook out their long hair which reached to the
earth, and put on their mystic garments, and prepared for their flight to the
south. .
But the boy sped on his homeward way like a humming-bird all day
long, and at night he reached home. They asked him, “Did they let you
in’? “Yes”, he said. ‘They were asleep in high beds placed on poles
overhead, each in his own bed; and their hair reached to the ground.
Their house was full of all kinds of food—acorns, pine-nuts, manzanita
berries, grasshoppers, dried flesh and fish ; but there were no women and no
cooking.” And he said further, “They will come to-night at midnight.
When they come the assembly-house must be ready for them; the old men
must be in it, and all must be silent anddark. There must be no light and
no voice. If any light is made and any one beholds those two old men
he shall die.”
That night all the old Indians came together into the assembly-hall ;
but some were on top of it looking and waiting for the two old men. A
fire was made at one side of it, but when it burned low it was covered over
with ashes lest it should give a light.
That night the two old men left their home in the far north, in the ice-
land. Their house was not like a house at all, but it was like a little low
mountain. They came out of it and set their faces to the south, and they
296 THE MAIDU.
sped on their way like a humming-bird; and at midnight they reached the
home of Piuchunnuh. They alighted on the assembly-house wherein the
Indians were assembled; and, as they touched the top of it, it opened and
parted asunder in every direction, so that those who were within beheld
the blue heavens and the stars. They cried out, ‘Make room for us”, and
they came down and stood in an open space before the fire. And when
they lifted up their voices to speak the house was full of sweet sounds, like
a tree full of singing blackbirds. The heart of Piuchunnuh was filled
with joy.
One of the old men had in his hand the sacred rattle (sho’-lo-yoh), from
which all others since have been modeled—a stick whereon were tied a
hundred cocoons, dry, and full of acorns and grass-seed. He said to them,
“Always when you sing have this rattle with you, and let it be made after
the pattern which I now show you. The spirit of sweet music is in this
rattle, and when it is shaken your songs will sound better.” Always before
this, when Piuchunnuh had prayed, he had held leaves in his hand and
waved them. But the old men said, ‘‘The leaves are not good. Have this
rattle with you when you pray for acorns, and you will get them; or when
you pray for grasshoppers, and you will get them. The leaves will bring
no fruit when you pray with them.”
Now, it was Woannomih who uttered all these words; the other old
man was not so eloquent, but he stood behind Woannomih and sometimes
put a word in his mouth. Woannomih further said to Piuchunnuh, ‘ Here-
tofore you have let all your boys grow up like a wild tree in the mountains ;
you have taught them nothing; they have gone their own way. Henceforth
you must bring every youth, at a proper age, into your sacred assembly-
house, and cause him to be initiated into the ways and knowledge of man-
hood. You shall teach him to worship me, and to observe the sacred dances
which I shall ordain in my honor.” (Before this there had never been any
dances among the Konkau, nothing but songs.) He further said, “Three
nights we shall teach and instruct you. There must be no light and no
voice in this house or you will die. Three nights you must be silent and
listen. We need no light; we have light in us. You shall know us in
your hearts; you need neither to see nor to touch us.”
THE TEACHINGS OF WOANNOMIH. 297
Thus for two nights they taught the Konkau, and the heart of Piu-
chunnuh was full of joy continually so that he could not utter it. But on
the third night, before the old Indians had come together, there crept into
the assembly-house two wicked boys, whose hearts were black and full of
mischief. Standing outside of the house they had overheard some of
Woannomih’s words, and they said one to another, ‘Let us get in and take
some pitch-pine and make a light in the night; then we can see these old
men and see what they look like.” Thus they wickedly devised in their
hearts and so did they. Secretly they crept into the house and carried
with them some pitch-pine.
In the night when Woannomih was talking these boys raked open the
fire and threw on the pitch-pine, when suddenly the house was filled with
a strong light, and the old men stood out plain in the sight of all. They
had on their heads woven nets (b0-noang'-wi-ka) covered all over with bits
of abalone-shell shining like the sun; they wore long mantles (ww’-shim-
chi) of black eagle’s feathers reaching below the knees, with acorns around the
edges; shell-spangled breech-cloths; tight leggings of buckskin; and low
moccasins (sho’-loh) covered with red woodpecker’s scalps and pieces of
abalone-shell. Their flesh was salmon in one place; in another, grasshop-
per; in another, deer; in another, antelope, etc. They stood revealed
in clear, bright colors, and they shone like fine obsidian.
Near Piuchunnuh there was standing a harlequin or herald (pe'-i-peh) ;
it was his office to stand on top of the assembly-house in the evening and pro-
claim the approaching dance to the villagers. Also, when his chief made a
speech, he stood behind him and repeated all his words to the people.
When he saw the two boys making the light, he grasped them in his hands
and flung them to the ground; but it was too late, the light flamed up in
the house. Piuchunnuh covered his face with his hands, so as not to behold
Woannomih, and he groaned aloud a groan of bitter despair. But Woanno-
mih spoke quietly on a moment more: ‘“ Keep the sacred dance-house, as
I have told you, while the world endures. Never neglect my rites and my
honors. Keep the sacred rattle and the dances. Worship me in the night,
and not in the daylight. In the daytime I will none of it. Then shall your
hills be full of acorns and, nuts; your valleys shall yield plenty of grass- -
298 THE MAIDU.
seed and herbs; your rivers shall be full of salmon, and your hearts shall
be rejoiced. Farewell.”
Then he ceased speaking, and the two old men rose through the roof,
and went up to the valley of heaven (hi-pi-ning’ koy-o-di'). Very soon the
two boys who had kindled the fire were stricken with death; they lay still
on the floor, and breathed no more. There was also a woman who had not
restrained her curiosity, but had groped about the house, feeling with her
hands, if perchance she might touch the two old men She also fell on the
floor quickly and died.
The people went out in the morning, and washed their bodies, and
rejoiced. When the sun was up they took food and were glad. But at
noon there fell fire out of the sun upon the village, and burned it up to the
uttermost house, and all the villages of that land round about, and all the
men, women, and children, save Piuchunnuh alone. He escaped because he
covered his face with his hands when the fire was kindled by the two boys,
but he was dreadfully burned, almost unto death.
Now, long before all these things happened, there lived at Ush’-tu-
ped-di (near Chico) a tribe of Indians whose chief was Ki-u-nad’-dis-si.
But Hai’-kut-wo-to-peh, one of the two old men of the north, came down
and gambled with him. They had four short pieces of bone, two plain and
two marked. They rolled them up in little balls of dry grass; then one of
the players held up one of them in each hand, and the other held up his.
If he matched them, he counted two; if he failed to match them, the other
counted one. There were sixteen bits of wood as counters, and when one
got the sixteen he was winner. Haikutwotopeh used a trick; his arms were
hollow, and there was a hole through his body, so that he could slip his
pieces across from one hand to the other and win every time. Kiunaddissi
wished to bet bows, arrows, shell-money, ete., as usual; but Haikutwoto-
peh would not bet anything but men and women. So he won Kiunaddissi’s
whole tribe from him, and carried them away to the north, to the ice-land.
There remained only Kiunaddissi, his daughter, and an old woman.
So Piuchunnuh went down to Ushtupeddi, and abode there, because
they spoke the same language as himself. He taught them all the things
BIRTH OF OANKOITUPEH. 299
which Woannomih had told him, and they observed them, and had plenty
of acorns and fish to eat, and were happy.
One day, as the sun was setting, Kiunaddissi’s daughter went out and
saw a beautiful red cloud, the most lovely cloud ever seen, resting like a
bar along the horizon, stretching southward. She cried out to her father,
“Q, father, come and see this beautiful cloud!” He did so. When they
went back into the house they heard, right in their ears, it seemed to them,
the sweetest music man ever heard. It continued all the time without. stop-
ping, and none of them could tell what caused it.
Next day the daughter took a basket and went out into the plain to
gather clover to eat. While picking the clover she found a very pretty
arrow, trimmed with yellow-hammer’s feathers. After gazing at it awhile
in wonder, she turned to look at her basket, and there beside it stood a man
who was called Yang-wi'-a-kan-ih (the Red Cloud), who was none other
than the cloud she had seen the day before. He was so bright and
resplendent to look upon that she was abashed; she modestly hung down
her head and uttered not a word. But he said to her, ‘I am not a stranger.
You saw me last night; you see me every night when the sun is setting.
I love you; you love me; look at me; be not afraid.” Then she said,
“Tf you love me, take and eat this basket of grass-seed pinole” He
touched the basket, and in an instant all the pinole vanished in the air,
going no man knows whither. Thereupon the girl fell away in a swoon,
and lay a considerable time there upon the ground. But when the man
returned to her, behold she had given birth toa son. And the girl was
abashed, and would not look in his face, but she was full of great joy
because of her new-born son. And Yangwiakanuh was glad when he looked
at the babe, and he said to her: ‘‘ You love me now; that is my boy, but
he is not of this world. You were born in Ushtupeddi; your father was
born in Ushtupeddi. I know all that, but this, my sen, is not of this world.”
Then he placed the babe in her basket, and with him he put in also all weap-
ons which are used by Indians—bows, arrows, spears, slings—but no man
saw it. And he said to the mother again: ‘In less than five days he shall
come forth from the basket. He shall be greater than all men; he shall
have power over all, and not fear any that lives. Therefore shall his name
300 THE MAIDU.
be Oan-koi’-tu-peh (the Invincible). Whenever you see him, think of me.
This boy has no life apart from me; he is myself.”
Then his mother took this basket, in which the babe lay, and started
to go to her father’s house, but when she had gone a little way she turned
to look back, and behold Yangwiakanuh was gone out of sight, and no man
ever saw him more.
She took her babe home, and secretly went into the assembly-house,
and hid him in the basket behind the great basket of acorns. But the
child’s heart was quick with life, and the beating of it was like the ticking
of a bug on the wall. When Kiunaddissi, the child’s grandfather, heard
the noise, he said to his daughter, “‘ What noise is that? I never heard
such a noise as that before.” At that the girl was greatly ashamed, but
she held her peace.
On the fourth night Kiunaddissi made a sacred dance in the assembly-
house, and there was a hot fire of willow-wood. 728 oe bok. tase eee oe ee 5
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The hdwok was all in one string, and contained 1,160 pieces. Tom
was very proud of this, and would suffer no one but his wife to be photo-
graphed wearing it. The kolkol was strung in a double string, the shells
lying face to face; it is slightly esteemed. The “red alabaster”, brought
from Sonoma, was in the form of a cylinder, about as large as one’s little
finger, an inch long, drilled lengthwise, and forming the front piece in a
string of shell-beads worn by Captain Tom’s baby. One of the girdles,
pacha, was decorated with 214 small pieces of abalone; the hair-net con-
tained about 100.
Following is a list of articles of dress and ornament worn by the
Nishinam, which with a change of names would answer for nearly all the
tribes in Central California: (1) The hare-skin robe, often trimmed with
ground-squirrel tails, generally used as bedding, but sometimes worn in the
rainy season. (2) The breech-cloth of hetcheled and braided tule-grass,
Figure 30.—Boy, with ornaments.
ats pape ahi she ihe
whan Pe oe F Pe Oy a - | )
=
“
ARTICLES OF DRESS AND ORNAMENT—MYTHOLOGY. 339
worn by women. (8) Shek'-ki, a hair-net, made of the inner bark of the
milkweed, woven with large meshes, fitting the head like a skull-cap, drawn
tight by a string running around the edge. The hair was twisted into a
hard knot behind the head, and into this was stuck a plume. (4) Mok'-kus,
about a foot long, consisting of a stick wreathed with red woodpecker
scalps and having at the end a cluster of pieces of abalone-shell or a little
flag of yellowhammer’s feathers. Worn only by the men when going to
adance. (5) To’-lai, the mantle of black, long feathers, eagle’s or hawk’s,
often mentioned in these pages, worn on the back, from the armpits down
to the knees, only by men and those generally shamans. (6) Pa’-cha, the
wide deer-skin girdle, studded with bits of abalone, worn by women
around the waist; nowadays generally made of scarlet cloth and covered
thick with bead-work. (7) Chi’-lak, the bandeau of yellowhammer’s
feathers, laid butt to tip alternately, and strung on two strings; worn by
both sexes in the dance (8) Kak'-ki, the narrow bandeau of fur, worn
tight around the head by both sexes in the dance. Seen all over California,
nowadays generally supplanted by a handkerchief. (9) Bon’-noh, orna-
ments, generally made of a large bird’s wing-bones, with red woodpecker’s
down and pieces of abalone at one end; worn thrust through the lobe of
the ear or the septum of the nose by both sexes. (10) Wauh'-tem-hin
(“one-hanger” or “single-hanger”), the large abalone gorget worn by men
in a dance. The shell-money, often worn by women, has been already
described. In the yomussi dance the women carry bows and arrows for
ornaments.
First of all things existed the moon. Next came the coyote, but
whether as a kind of protoplasm for other beings or as a creator of them,
the Indians are not clear. But it is certain that the California Indians
anticipated Darwin by some centuries in the development theory, only
substituting the coyote for the monkey. The moon and the coyote created all
things, including man, who, some say, was in the form of a stone; others
in the form of a simple, straight, hairless, limbless mass of flesh, like an
enormous earth-worm.
AI-KUT AND YO-16-TO-WI.
The first man thus created was called Aikut. His wife was Yototowi.
In process of time the woman fell sick, aud though Aikut nursed her ten-
340 THE NISHINAM.
derly, she gradually faded away before his eyes and died. He had loved
her with a love passing the love of brothers, and now his heart was broken
with grief. He dug a grave for her close beside his camp-fire (for the Nishi-
nam did not burn their dead then), that he might daily and hourly weep
above her silent dust. His grief knew no bounds. His life became a
burden to him; all the light was gone out of his eyes. He wished to die,
that he might follow his beloved Yototowi. In the greatness of his grief he
’ fetl into a trance. There was a rumbling, and the spirit of the dead woman
arose out of the earth and came and stood beside him. When he awoke
out of his trance and beheld his wife he would have spoken to her, but she
forbade him, for in what moment an Indian speaks to a ghost he dies. She
turned away and set out to seek the spirit-land (ush'-awush-i kim, literally “the
dance-house of ghosts”). He followed her, and together they journeyed
through a great country and a darksome—a land that no man has seen and
returned to report—until they came to a river that separated them from the
spirit-land. Over this river there was a bridge of but one small rope, so
very small that a spider could hardly erawl] across it. Here the spirit of
the woman must bid farewell to her husband, and go over alone to the
spirit-land. When he saw her leaving him, in an agony of grief he stretched
out his arms toward her, beckoning her to return. She came back with him
to this world, then started a second time to return to the invisible land.
But he could not be separated from her, so she permitted him and he spoke
to the spirit. In that self-same instant he died, and together they took their
last departure for the land of spirits.
Thus Aikut passed away from the realm of earth, and in the invisible
world became a good and great spirit, who constantly watches over and
befriends his posterity still living on earth. He and his wife left behind
them two children, a brother and a sister; and to prevent incest the moon
created another pair, and from these two pairs sprang all the Nishinam.
Their land of spirits is the Happy Western Land of all the California
Indians, and thither go the souls of all good Indians, to live forever in
indolent enjoyment. (As the Nishinam reckon the points of the compass
rather by the trend of the Sierra Nevada than by the sun or the stars, their
west is nearly southwest. Most other Sierra tribes seem to do the same.)
=
Figure 31.—Boy, with ornaments.
FABLES OF ANIMALS. 341
ORIGIN OF INCREMATION.
The moon and the coyote wrought together in creating all things that
exist. The moon was good, but the coyote was bad. In making men and
women, the moon wished to so fashion their souls that when they died they
should return to the earth after two or three days, as he himself does when
he dies. But the coyote was evil disposed, and he said that this should not
_be, but that when men died their friends should burn their bodies, and once
a year make a great mourning for them. And the coyote prevailed. So,
_ presently when a deer died, they burned his body, as the coyote had
decreed, and after a year they made a great mourning for him. But the
moon creat2d the rattlesnake, and caused it to bite the coyote’s son, so that
he died. Now, though the coyote had been willing to burn the deer’s rela-
tions, he refused to burn his own son. Then the moon said unto him:
“This is your own rule. You would have it so, and now your son shall be
burned like the others.” So he was burned, and after a year the coyote
mourned for him. Thus the law was established over the coyote also, and,
as he had dominion over men, it prevailed over men likewise.
This story is utterly worthless for itself, but it has its value, in that it
shows there was a time when the California Indians did not practice crema-
tion, which is also established by other traditions. It hints at the additional
fact that the Nishinam to this day set great store by the moon, consider it
their benefactor in a hundred ways, and observe its changes for a hundred
purposes.
THE BEAR AND THE DEER.
At first all the animals ate only earth, but afterward the clover grew,
and then they ate that also. There were no men yet, or rather all men
were yet in the forms of animals. One day the bear and the deer went out
together to pick clover. The bear pretended to see a louse on the deer’s
neck, and the deer bent down her head to let the bear catch it, but the bear
cut her head off, scratched out her eyes, and threw them into her basket
among the clover. When she went home and emptied her basket, the
deer’s children saw the eyes, and knew they were their mother’s. So they
studied revenge.
On another day, when the bear was pounding earth in a mortar for
342 THE NISHINAM.
food, as acorns are now pounded, the deer’s two children enticed the bear's
children away to play, and persuaded them to enter a cave beneath the
ereat rock Oamlam (high rock) on Wolf Creek, near Bear River. Then
they fastened them in with a stone, and made a fire which roasted them
to death. When the bear came and found them, she thought they were
asleep and sweating, but it was the oil on their hair, and when she pawed
them the hair came off. Thereupon she flew into a great passion, tore them
to pieces, and devoured them.
Then she pursued the deer’s two children to destroy them. She called
out to them that she was their aunt and would do them good, but they fled
and escaped up the great rock Oamlam, and it grew upward with them
until the top of it was very high. The bear went round belind the rock
and found a narrow rift where she could crawl up, but the deer’s children
saw her coming, and they had a stone red-hot, which they cast down her
throat and slew her. Then they took this same stone and threw it to the
north, and manzanita-berries fell down; to the east, and pine-nuts fell down;
to the south, and one kind of acorns fell down; to the west, and another kind
of acorns fell down. ‘Thus they had now plenty of food of different kinds,
and they ate earth no more.
After this, while they were yet on the rock, the deer’s children thought
to climb into heaven, it had grown so high. The big one made a ladder
that reached the sky, and, with bow and arrow, he shot a hole up through,
so that the little one could climb up into heaven. But the little one was
afraid, and cried. So the big one made tobacco and a pipe, and gave them
to the little one to smoke as he went up the ladder, whereby the smoke
concealed the world from him, and his heart was no longer afraid. And
this is how smoking originated. So the little one climbed up through the
hole into heaven, and went out of sight; but presently he returned down
the ladder, and told his brother that it was a good country above the sky,
with plenty of sweet browse, and grass, and buds of trees, and pools of
water, and flowers for them to sleep on. Upon that they both climbed the
ladder and went above the sky.
Presently they saw their mother by a pool of water cooking, and they
knew it was she, because she had no eyes. Now, the big brother was a
COSMOGONY—THE LIZARD STEALING FIRE. 343
deer, but the little one was a sap-sucker. So these two made a wheel to ride
on, that they might pursue their mother, for they were not well pleased to
see her without eyes. But they were punished for this act of wickedness,
for the wheel went contrary with them, turned aside, and plunged into a
pool of water, so that they were drowned.
This story contains a considerable part of the Nishinam cosmogony.
In common with most California tribes, these Indians regard all animals,
including men, as having a common original, and being intimately related.
Thus the bear calls herself aunt to the deer’s children, and one of the latter
is a bird.
There is another tradition to the same effect substantially, that men
were once on the same level with the beasts of the forest, and habitually
devoured their own dead, as the coyote is said to do.
ORIGIN OF FIRE.
After the coyote had created the world and its inhabitants, there was
still one thing lacking—fire. In the western country there was plenty of
it, but nobody could get it; it was so far off and so closely hidden. So the
bat proposed to the lizard that he should go and stealsome. ‘This the lizard
did, and he got a good coal of it, but found it very hard to bring home
because everybody wanted to steal it from him. At length he reached the
western edge of the Sacramento Valley, and he had to be extremely careful
in crossing with it, lest he should set the country on fire. He was obliged
to travel by night to prevent the thieves from stealing the fire, and to keep
the dry grass from catching fire. One night when he had nearly reached
the foot-hills on the east side of the valley, he was so unfortunate as to come
upon a company of sand-hill cranes (ko'-dok), who were sitting up all night
gambling. He crept slyly along on the side of a log, holding the fire in
his hand, but they discovered him and gave chase. Their legs were so
long he had no hope of escape, so he was obliged to set fire to the grass,
and let it burn into the mountains. Thus he soon had a roaring fire, and
he had to run like a good one to keep ahead of it. When the bat saw the
fire coming, being unused to it, he was half-blinded and had sharp pain in
his eyes. He eried out to the lizard that his eyes would be put out, and
344. THER NISHINAM.
asked him to cover them up with pitch. The lizard took pitch and rubbed
it on so thick he could see nothing, which got the bat into a bad scrape.
He hopped, jumped, and fluttered; he flew this way, he flew that way; he
burnt his head, he burnt his tail. Then he flew toward the west and cried
out loud, ‘Mo-nuw', shu-le'-u-lu!” (“Blow, O wind!”) The wind heard
him and blew in his eyes, but he could not blow off all the pitch, and that
is the reason the bat sees so ill to this day. And because he was in the
fire, that is the reason he is so black and singed-looking.
THE OLD MAN-EATER.
Long, long ago there lived an old man and his wife who made it their
especial business to kill and eat Indians. They had their wigwam thirty
or forty miles down on the Sacramento Plains, and the ground all around
it was covered a foot deep with blood. They made stone mortars, carved
and polished inside and out, much better than the mortars the women use
nowadays to pound acorns in; and in these mortars they pounded up their
victims, and made them into hash (as the Indians express it), so that they
might be tender to eat. The Indians warred for their lives against this ter-
rible old man and his wife, but they could do nothing against them, and
were disappearing from the earth. Then at last the Old Coyote took pity
on his offspring, the people whom he had made, and he determined to kill
this old man. It was his habit to go into the dance-house when it was full
of Indians, the chiefs and the great men of the tribe, and of these he would
catch and kill the fattest and the juiciest for himself. So the coyote dug a
great hole outside of the dance-house, close beside the door, and hid him-
self in it with a mighty big knife, and covered himself up so that the old
man could see nothing but the point of the knife. As he passed into the
dance-house he saw the point of the knife and kicked at it, but went on in.
Then the coyote leaped out of the hole, rushed in after him, caught the old
man, and slew him.
This legend is very interesting, on aecount of the probable reference
to a supposed pre-aboriginal race, who were the makers of the superior
stone mortars occasionally found in many places in California, and of which
the Indians universally acknowledge that they were not the authors.
VARIOUS SUPERSTITIOUS BELIEFS. 345
Other Indians say that these mortars were given to them by the same one
who gave them the acorns, and that they subsequently learned to fashion
for themselves the rude mortar-holes on the top of great bowlders, the same
that they use to-day.
THE ROAD-WOMAN (BO/-HEM—KUL’-LEH).
There dwells in the forests and upon the hills a ghost which is both
man and woman. It is called by the Indians bo'-hem kiil’-leh (from boh,
bohem, “‘road”, and kiilleh, “woman”). It is a bad ‘spirit, and only bad
men and women resort to it. Sometimes in the night its strange, wild,
shrill ery is heard in the forest, and then some one in the camp will answer
it and go out to meet it. When a woman is about to be overtaken in dis-
honest childbirth and her pangs are upon her, she goes to and fro in the
forest crying that this bad spirit overcame her and that she conceived by it;
also, a man who has wrought an evil thing and been detected in it accuses
this double-sexed spirit of having tempted him.
This is one of those strange, subtle Indian superstitions which are
scarcely intelligible to us. I suspect this spirit must be connected with the
phenomenon of insanity. It has often been said that there never were any
cases of insanity among the Indians before they became acquainted with
the Americans and learned to love strong drink. This statement is doubt-
ful. Like all people of a low grade of culture, they attribute insanity to
demoniacal possession. They have a word, hon'-tai, which they apply to
people who have become infatuated with this ghost, and which undoubtedly
can only be translated “insane”.
I have never discovered among the Indians any trace of beings like the
swan-maidens or were-wolves of medieval legends. They have the words
“quail-women”, “‘deer-women”, and the like, but that #s their only way of
expressing the feminine gender. There is a story of a famous shaman
who, when about to exercise his art in a very difficult case, would turn
into a bear. They also believe in hermaphrodites, and declare they have
seen them. —
Some Nishinam have heard of a Great Being, the white man’s God,
whom, on the American River, they call Sha; at Placerville, Liish. They
have the name only, nothing more.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE MI’-WOK.
By much the largest nation in California, both in population and in
extent of territory, is the Miwok, whose ancient dominion extended from
the snow-line of the Sierra Nevada to the San Joaquin River, and from the
Cosumnes to the Fresno. When we reflect that the mountain valleys were
thickly peopled as far east as Yosemite (in summer, still further up), and
consider the great extent and fertility of the San Joaquin plains, which
to-day produce a thousand bushels of wheat for every white inhabitant,
old and young, in certain districts; then add to this the long and fish-full
streams, the Mokelumne, the Stanislaus, the Tuolumne, the Merced, the
Chowchilla, and the San Joaquin encircling all, along whose banks the
Indians anciently dwelt in multitudes, we shall see what a capacity there
was to support a dense population. Even the islands of the San Joaquin
were made to sustain their quota, for on Feather Island there are said to be
the remains of a populous village. The rich alluvial lands along the lower
Stanislaus, Tuolumne, and Merced contained the heart of the nation, and
were probably the seat of the densest population of ancient California.
And yet, broadly extended as it was, and feeble or wholly lacking as
was the feeling of national unity, this people possess a language more
homogeneous than many others not half so widely ramified. An Indian
may start from the upper end of Yosemite and travel with the sun 150
miles, a great distance to go in California without encountering a new
tongue, and on the San Joaquin make himself understood with little diffi-
culty. Another may journey from the Cosumnes southward to the Fresno,
crossing three rivers which the timid race had no means of ferrying over
but casual logs, and still hear the familiar numerals with scarcely the
change of a syllable, and he can sit down with a new-found acquaintance
346
LANGUAGE—PHRASES OF SALUTATION. 347
and impart to him hour-long communications with only about the usual
supplement and bridging of gesture (which is great at best). To one who
has been traveling months in regions where a new language has to be
looked to every ten miles sometimes, this state of affairs is a great relief.
There are, as always, many and abrupt dialectic departures, but the
root remains, and is quickly caught up by the Indian of a different dialect.
There are not so often whole cohorts of words swinging loose from the
language. 4A : (eal ee
« 5
ACORN-GRANARIES—ERRONEOUS ANATOMY. Bhi)! |
For food they depend principally on acorns. They had, in common
with many tribes both in the Sierra and in the Coast Range, a kind of
granary to store them in for winter. When the crop was good and they
harvested more than they wished to carry to camp just then, with a fore-
thought not common among barbarians they laid by the remainder on the
spot. Selecting a tree which presented a couple of forks a few feet from
the ground, but above the reach of wild animals, they laid a pole across, and
-on that as a foundation, wove a cylinder-shaped granary of willow wicker-
work, three or four feet in diameter and twice as high, which they filled
with acorns and covered with thatch. There they remained safe. As these
were often miles from a village, the circumstance denotes that they reposed
no small confidence in each other’s honesty. It goes near to refute
altogether the frequent allegations that they are a nation of thieves. Now-
adays, they make most of their granaries close to camp, either right on the
ground or elevated on top of some posts.
It is generally asserted of these Indians that they will eat anything.
But there is one exception, and that is the clean, sweet flesh of the skunk.
Old hunters assert that it is such, but the aborigines detest it beyond
measure. So uncompromising is their horror of this animal that they have
never examined one; consequently they have an erroneous impression of
its anatomy. They believe that the effluvium is produced, not by any
peculiar secretion, but by the emission of wind! An old hunter related an
amusing method of capturing this animal which he had seen among the
Nishinam. One man attracted its attention.in front while another ran up
quickly behind, seized it by the tail, and by a blow with his hand on the
back of the neck broke that organ before the beast could become offensive.
The Miwok utilize it in one way atleast; they sometimes hang the carcasses
on trees along a trail difficult to follow, so that they can be guided by one
sense if not by another. I have seen this myself.
They are very fond of hare, and make comfortable robes of their
skins. They cut them into narrow slits, dry them in the sun, then lay them
close together, and make a rude warp of them by tying or sewing strings
across at intervals of a few inches.
Soap-root is used in the manufacture of a kind of glue, and the squaws
352 THE MIWOK.
make brushes of the fibrous matter encasing the bulb, wherewith they
occasionally sweep out their wigwams and the earth for a small space
around. Although there were millions of tall, straight pines in the moun-
tains, the Miwok had no means of crossing rivers, except logs or clumsy
rafts. All the dwellers on the plains, and as far up as the cedar-line,
bought all their bows and many of their arrows from the upper moun-
taineers. An Indian is ten days in making a bow, and it is valued at $3,
$4, and $5, according to the workmanship; an arrow at 122 cents. Three
kinds of money were employed in this traffic. White shell-buttons, pierced
in the center and strung together, rate at $5.a yard (this money was less
valuable than among the Nishinam, probably because these lived nearer the
source of supply); “periwinkles” (olivella?) at 51 a yard; fancy marine
shells at various prices, from $3 to $10 or $15 a yard, according to their
beauty.
Their chieftainship, such as it is, is hereditary when there is a son or
brother of commanding influence, which is very seldom; otherwise he is
thrust aside for another. He is simply a master of ceremonies, except when
aman of great ability appears, in which case he sometimes succeeds in
uniting two or three of the little, discordant tribelets around him, and
spends his life in a vain effort to harmonize others, and so goes down to his
grave at the last broken-hearted. It is of no use; the greatest savage
intellect that ever existed could not have banded permanently together fifty
villages of the California Indians.
When he decides to hold a dance in his village, he dispatches
messengers to the neighboring rancherias, each bearing a string wherein is
tied a number of knots. Every morning thereafter the invited chief unties
one of the knots, and when the last one is reached they joyfully set forth
for the dance—men, women, and children.
Occasionally there arises a great orator or ‘prophet, who wields a wide
influence, and exerts it to introduce reforms which seem to him desirable.
Old Sam, of Jackson, Calaveras County, was such a one. Sometimes he
would set out on a speaking tour, traveling many miles in all directions,
and discoursing with much fervor and eloquence nearly all night, according
to accounts. Shortly before I passed he had introduced two reforms, at
A ih
OLD SAMS REFORMS—A GOLD-DIGGING CHIEF. 353
which the reader will probably smile, but which were certainly salutary so
far as they went. One was that the widows no longer tarred their heads in
mourning, but painted their faces, which would be less lasting in its loath-
some effects. The other was that instead of holding an annual ‘‘ery” in
memory of the dead, they should dance and chant dirges.
In one of his speeches to his people he is reported to have counseled
them to live at peace with the whites, to treat them kindly, and avoid quar-
rels whenever possible, as it was worse than useless to contend against
their conquerors. He then diverged into remarks on economy in the house-
hold: “Do not waste cooked victuals. You never have too much, any-
how. The Americans do not waste their food. They work hard for it, and
take care of it. They keep it in their houses out of the rain. You let the
squirrels get into your acorns. When you eat a piece of pie, you eat it up
as far as the apple goes, then throw the crust into the fire. When you have
a pancake left you throw it to the dogs. Every family should keep only
one dog. It is wasteful.”
Tai-pok’-si, chief of the Chimteya, was a notable Indian in his genera-
tion, holding undisputed sovereignty in the valley of the Merced, from the
South Fork to the plains. Early every morning, as soon as the families
had had time decently to prepare breakfast, he would step out before his
wigwam and lift up his sonorous voice like a Stentor, summoning the whole
village to work in the gold-diggings, and himself went forth to share the
labor of the humblest. Men, women, and children went out together, tak-
ing their dinners along, and the village was totally deserted until about
three o’clock Every one worked hard, inspired by the example of their
great chieftain, the men making dives in the Merced of a minute or more,
and bringing up the rich gravel, while the women and children washed it
on shore. They got plenty of gold and lived in civilized luxury so long as
Taipoksi was alive. He was described by one who knew him well as a
magnificent specimen of a savage, standing fully six feet high, straight and
sinewy, shiny-black as an Ethiopian, with eyes like an eagle’s, a lofty fore-
head, nostrils high and strongly chiseled, each of them showing a clean, bold
ellipse. He died in 1857, and was buried in Rum Hollow with unparalleled
pomp and splendor. Over 1,200 Indians were present at his funeral. After
23 T ©
354 THE MIWOK.
this grand old barbarian was gone his tribe speedily went to the bad; their
industry lagged; their gold was gambled away; their fine clothing followed
hard after it; dissension, disease, and death scattered them to the four
winds.
Among the Miwok a bride is sometimes carried to the lodge of her
husband on the back of a stalwart Indian, amid a joyous throng, singing
songs, dancing, leaping, and whooping. In return for the presents given by
the groom, his father-in-law gives the young couple various substantial
articles, such as are needful in the scullery, to set them up in housekeeping.
In fact, here, as generally throughout the State, it is a pretty well estab-
lished usage that the parents are to do everything for their children, and
the latter nothing until they marry. ‘The father often continues these pres-
ents of meat and acorns for several years after the marriage. And what is
his reward? Making himself a slave, he is treated substantially as such,’
and when he has become old, and ought to be tenderly JTRS he fre-
quently has to shift for himself.
Mention is made of a woman named Ha-u-chi-ah’, living near Mur-
phy’s, who, in 1858, gave birth to twins and destroyed one of them, in
accordance with the universal custom.
Some of their shamans are men and some women. Searification and
prolonged suction with the mouth are their staple methods. In case of
colds and rheumatism they apply Califorma balm of Gilead (Picea grandis)
externally and internally. Stomachic affections and severe travail are
treated with a plaster of hot ashes and moist earth. They think that their
male shamans or sorcerers can sit on a mountain top, fifty miles distant from
a man whom they wish to destroy, and accomplish that result by filliping
poison toward him from their finger-ends. The shaman’s prerogative is that
he must be paid in advance; hence a man seeking his services brings his offer-
ing with him, a fresh-slain deer, or so many yards of shell-money, or some-
thing, and flings it down on the ground before him without a word, thereby
intimating that he desires the equivalent of that in medicine and treatment.
The patient’s prerogative is that if he dies his friends may kill the physi-
cian.
In the acorn dance the whole company join hands and dance in a circle,
| |
Figure 33.—Cornstalk guitars (Yo’ kuts), baton (Hnu’ pa), bone-whistles.
FANDANGOES—MOURNING THE DEAD. SDD
men and women together—a position of equality not often accorded to the
weaker sex. They generally have to dance by themselves in an outside
circle, each woman behind her lord. _ Besides this fixed anniversary there
are many occasional fandangoes, for feasting and amusement. They resem-
ble a civilized ball somewhat, inasmuch as the young men of the village
giving the entertainment contribute a sum of money wherewith to procure
a great quantity of hare, wild-fowl, acorns, sweet roots, and other deli-
cacies (nowadays generally a bullock, sheep, flour, fruit, ete.). Then they
select a sunny glade, far within some sequestered forest where they will not
be disturbed by intruders, and plant green branches in the ground, forming
a large circle. Grass and pine-straw are scattered within to form at once
a divan and a dancing-floor. _Here the invited villagers collect and spend
frequently a week; gambling, feasting, and sleeping in the breezy shade by
day, and by night dancing to lively tunes, with execrable and most indus-
trious music, and wild, dithyrambic crooning of chants, and indescribable
dances, now sweeping around in a ring beneath the overhanging pine-
boughs, and now stationary, with plumes nodding and beadery jingling.
It is wonderful what a world of riotous enjoyment the California Indians
will compress into the space of a week.
They observe no puberty dance, neither does any other tribe south of
Chico.
There is no observance of the dance for the dead, but an annual
mourning (nit'-yw) instead; and occasionally, in the case of a high per-
sonage, a special mourning, set by appointment a few months after his
death. One or more villages assemble together in the evening, seat them-
selves on the ground in a circle, and engage in loud and demonstrative
wailing, beating themselves and tearing their hair. The squaws wander
off into the forest wringing their arms piteously, beating the air, with eyes
upturned, and adjuring the departed one, whom they tenderly call ‘‘dear
child”, or ‘dear cousin” (whether a relative or not), to return. Sometimes,
during a kind of trance or frenzy of sorrow, a squaw will dance three or
four hours in the same place without cessation, crooning all the while, until
she falls in a dead faint. Others, with arms interlocked, pace to and fro in
356 THE MIWOK.
a beaten path for hours, chanting weird death-songs with eldritch and inar-
ticulate wailings—sad voicings of savage, hopeless sorrow.
On the Merced the widow does not apply pitch over the whole face,
but only in a small blotch under the ears, while the younger squaws singe
off their hair short. When some relative chances to be absent at the time
of the funeral some article belonging to the deceased (frequently a hat
nowadays) is preserved from the general sacrifice of his effects and retained
until the absent member returns, that the sight of it may kindle his sorrow
and awaken in his bosom fresh and piercing recollections of that being
whom he will never more behold.
On the Lower Tuolumne, after dancing the frightful death-dance around
the fresh-made grave into which the body has just been lowered, they go
out of mourning by removing the pitch until the annual mourning comes
round, when they renew it. On the latter occasion they make out of cloth-
ing and blankets manikins to represent the deceased, which they carry
around the graves with shrieks of sorrow.
As soon as the annual mourning is over in autumn all the relatives of
the departed are at full liberty to engage in their ordinary pursuits, to
attend dances, ete., which before that were interdicted. That solemn ocea-
sion itself too frequently winds up with a gross debauch of sensuality. The
oldest brother is entitled to his brother’s widow, and he may even convey
her home to his lodge on the return from the funeral, if he is so disposed,
though that would be accounted a very scandalous proceeding.
Although cremation very generally prevailed among the Miwok there
never was a time when it was universal. Captain John states that long be-
fore they had ever seen any Europeans, the Indians high up in the mountains
buried their dead, though his people about Chinese Camp always burned.
As low down on the Stanislaus as Robinson’s Ferry long ranks of skeletons
have been revealed by the action of the river, three or four feet beneath
the surface, doubled wp and covered with stones, of which none of the bones
showed any charring.
In respect to legends, they relate one which is somewhat remarkable.
First it is necessary to state that there is a lake-like expansion of the Upper
Tuolumne some four miles long and from a half mile to a mile wide, directly
A CATACLYSM IN THE SIERRA. d07
north of Hatchatchie Valley (erroneously spelled Hetch Hetchy). It ap-
pears to have no name among Americans, but the Indians call it O-wai’-a-
nuh, which is manifestly a dialectic variation of a-wai’-a, the generic word for
“Jake”. Nat. Screech, a veteran mountaineer and hunter, states that he
visited this region in 1850, and at that time there was a valley along the
river having the same dimensions that this lake now has. Again, in 1855,
he happened to pass that way and discovered that the lake had been formed
as it now exists. He was ata loss to account for its origin; but subse-
quently he acquired the Miwok language as spoken at Little Gap, and
while listening to the Indians one day he overheard them casually refer to
the formation of this lake in an extraordinary manner. On being questioned
they stated that there had been a tremendous cataclysm in that valley, the
bottom of it having fallen out apparently, whereby the entire valley was
submerged in the waters of the river. As nearly as he could ascertain from
their imperfect methods of reckoning time this occurred in 1851; and in
that year, while in the town of Sonora, Screech and many others remem-
bered to have heard a huge explosion in that direction which they then
supposed was caused by a local earthquake.
On Drew’s Ranch, Middle Fork of the Tuolumne, lives an aged squaw
called Dish-i, who was in the valley when this remarkable event occurred.
According to her account the earth dropped in beneath their feet and the
waters of the river leaped up.and came rushing upon them in a vast, roar-
ing flood, almost perpendicular like a wall of rock. At first the Indians
were stricken dumb and motionless with terror, but when they saw the
waters coming they escaped for life, though thirty or forty were overtaken
and drowned. Another squaw named Isabel says that the stubs of trees,
which are still plainly visible deep down in the pellucid waters, are con-
sidered by the old superstitious Indians to be evil spirits, the demons of
the place, reaching up their arms, and that they fear them greatly. This
account, if authentic, is valuable as throwing some light on the origin of
Yosemite and other great canons of the high Sierra.
An Indian of Garrote narrated to me a myth of the creation of man
and woman by the coyote, which contained a very large amount of aboriginal
dirt. When the legends of the California Indians are pure, which they
358 THE MIWOK.
generally are, they are often quite pretty ; but when they diverge into im-
purity they contain the most gratuitous and abominable obscenity ever
conceived by the mind of man.
The following isa fable told at Little Gap:
CREATION OF MAN.
After the coyote had finished all the work of the world and the inferior
creatures he called a council of them to deliberate on the creation of man.
They sat down in an open space in the forest, all in a circle, with the lion at the
head. On his right sat the grizzly bear, next the cinnamon bear, and so on
around according to the rank, ending with the little mouse, which sat at the
lion’s left.
The lion was the first to speak, and he declared he should like to see
man created with a mighty voice like himself, wherewith he could frighten
all animals. For the rest he would have him well covered with hair, terri-
ble fangs in his claws, strong talons, ete. ;
The grizzly bear said it was ridiculous to have such a voice as his
neighbor, for he was always roaring with it and scared away the very prey
he wished to capture. He said the man ought to have prodigious strength,
and move about silently but very swiftly if necessary, and be able to grip
his prey without making a noise.
The buck said the man would look very foolish, in his way of thinking,
unless he had a magnificent pair of antlers on his head to fight with. He
also thought it was very absurd to roar so loudly, and he would pay less
attention to the man’s throat than he would to his ears and his eyes, for he
would have the first like a spider’s web and the second like fire.
The mountain sheep protested he never could see what sense there was.
in such antlers, branching every way, only to get caught in the thickets.
If the man had horns mostly rolled up, they would be like a stone on each
side of his head, giving it weight, and enabling him to butt a great deal
harder.
When it came the coyote’s turn to speak, he declared all these were
the stupidest speeches he ever heard, and that he could hardly keep awake
while listening to such a pack of noodles and nincompoops. Every one of
A COUNCIL OF THE ANIMALS. 359
them wanted to make the man like himself. They might just as well take
one of their own cubs and call ita man. As for himself he knew he was
not the best animal that could be made, and he could make one better than
himself or any other. Of ceurse, the man would have to be like himself
in having four legs, five fingers, etc. It was well enough to have a voice
like the lion, only the man need not roar all the while with it. The grizzly
bear also had some good points, one of which was the shape of his feet,
which enabled him easily to stand erect; and he was in favor, therefore, of
making the man’s feet nearly like the grizzly’s. The grizzly was also happy
in having no tail, for he had learned from his own experience that that
organ was only a harbor for fleas. The buck’s eyes and ears were pretty
good, perhaps better than his own. Then there was the fish, which was
naked, and which he envied, because hair was a burden most of the year;
and he, therefore, favored a man without hair. His claws ought to be as
long as the eagle’s, so that he could hold things in them. But after all,
with all their separate gifts, they must acknowledge that there was no ani-
mal besides himself that had wit enough to supply the man; and he should
be obliged, therefore, to make him like himself in that respect also—cunning
and crafty.
After the coyote had made an end, the beaver said he never heard such
twaddle and nonsense in his life. No tail, indeed! He would make aman
with a broad, flat tail, so he could haul mud and sand on it.
The owl] said all the animals seemed to have lost their senses; none of
them wanted to give the man wings. For himself, he could not see of what
use anything on earth could be to himself without wings.
The mole said it was perfect folly to talk about wings, for with them
the man would be certain to bump his head against the sky. Besides that,
if he had eyes and wings both, he would get his eyes burnt out by flying
too near the sun; but without eyes he could burrow in the cool, soft earth,
and be happy.
Last of all, the little mouse squeaked out that he would make a man
with eyes, of course, so he could see what he was eating; and as for bur-
rowing in the ground, that was absurd.
So the animals disagreed among themselves, and the council broke up
360 THE MIWOK.
in a row. The coyote flew at the beaver, and nipped a piece out of his
cheek ; the owl jumped on top of the coyote’s head, and commenced lifting
his scalp, and there was a high time. Every animal set to work to make a
man according to his own ideas; and, taking a lump of earth, each one
commenced molding it like himself; but the coyote began to make one like
that he Had described in the council. It was so late before they fell to
work that nightfall came on before any one had finished his model, and
they all lay down and fell asleep. But the cunning coyote staid awake
and worked hard on his model all night. When all the other animals were
sound asleep, he went around and discharged water on their models, and
so spoiled them. In the morning early he finished his model and gave it
life long before the others could make new models; and thus it was that
man was made by the coyote.
Many authors, in writing of the California Indians, use the term ‘“sweat-
house” loosely and inaccurately, applying it not only to the sudatory proper,
but also to the public structure which I have variously designated ‘‘assem-
bly-house”, ‘‘assembly-hall”, ‘“dance-house”, ete. Among the tribes of
Southern California, south of Sacramento City, for instance, the sweat-house
is made in the same way as the assembly-house, that is, a dome-shaped struc-
ture of poles and wicker-work, thatched and then heavily covered with
earth; but it is much smaller. It is seldom used for any but purely’sudatory
purposes. In Northern California (except on the Klamath) the sweat-house
is sometimes nearly as large as the assembly-house; and as it is made in
the same way, and is sometimes used for certain religious or ecstatic dances,
it has come to be a wide-spread popular error to confound it with the
assembly-house.
Following are the Miwok numerals, as spoken in Yosemite. There
are slight variations everywhere, but the only one of importance is found
on Calaveras River, where /w/-teh is substituted for keng’-a.
| One. | keng’-a. Six. ti-mok’-a.
Two. o-ti’-ko. Seven. | tit-oi’-a.
Three. | to-lok’-o. | Bieht. | kA-win’-ta.
af hips | aa) }
Four. | o-i-sa. Nine. el-le’-wa.
|
| Five. | ma-chi -ka. Ten. na-a’-cha.
ry
‘anun[d ppoo & puB ywoms Y—'pE aus
CHAPTER XXXIV.
YOSEMITE.
There is no doubt the Indians would be much amused if they could
know what a piece of work we have made of some of their names. As
stated in the Introduction, all California Indian names that have any signifi-
cance at all must be interpreted on the plainest and most prosaic principles;
whereas the great, grim walls of Yosemite have been made by the white
man to blossom with aboriginal poetry like a page of “Lalla Rookh”.
From the “Great Chief of the Valley” and the “Goddess of the Valley”
down to the ‘Virgin Tears” and the ‘Cataract of Diamonds”, the sump-
tuous imaginations of various discoverers have trailed through that wonder-
ful gorge blazons of mythological and barbarian heraldry of an Oriental
gorgeousness. It would be a pity, truly, if the Indians had not succeeded
in interpreting more poetically the meanings of the place than our country-
men have done in such bald appellations as ‘Vernal Fall”, ‘Pigeon Creek”,
and the like; but whether they did or not, they did not perpetrate the
melodramatic and dime-novel shams that have been fathered upon them.
In the first place the aborigines never knew of any such locality as
Yosemite Valley. Second, there is not now and there has not been any-
thing in the valley which they call Yosemite. Third, they never called
“Old Ephraim” himself Yosemite, nor is there any such a word in the
Miwok language.
The valley has always been known to them, and is to this day, when
speaking among themselves, as A-wé-ni. This, it is true, is only the name
of one of the ancient villages which it contained; but by prominence it
gave its name to the valley, and, in accordance with Indian usage almost
everywhere, to the inhabitants of the same. The word ‘‘ Yosemite” is sim-
ply a very beautiful and sonorous corruption of the word for “grizzly bear”.
361
362 YOSEMITE.
On the Stanislaus and north of it the word is w-zdé-mai-ti; at Little Gap,
o-sd-mai-ti; in Yosemite itself, u-zd-mai-ti; on the South Fork of the Merced,
uh-zu-mai-tuh.
Mr. J. M. Hutchings, in his ‘‘Seenes of Wonder and Curiosity in Cali-
fornia”, states that the pronunciation on the South Fork is “Yohamite”.
Now, there is occasionally a kind of cockney in the tribe, who cannot get
the letter “‘h” right. Different Indians will pronounce the word for “wood”
su-su-eh, su-suh, hu-hi-eh; also, the word for ‘“‘eye”, hun'-ta, hun'-tum, shun'-ta.
It may have been an Indian of this sort who pronounced the word that
way; I never heard it so spoken.
In other portions of California the Indian names have effected such
slight lodgment in our atlases that it is seldom worth while to go much out
of the way to set them right; but there are so many of them preserved in
Yosemite that it is different. Professor Whitney and Mr. Hutchings, in their
respective guide-books, state that they derived their catalogues of Indian
names from white men. The Indians certainly have a right to be heard in
this department at least; and when they differ from the interpreters every
right-thinking man will accept the statement of an intelligent aborigine as
against a score of Americans. The Indian can very seldom give a con-
nected, philosophical account of his customs and ideas, for which one must
depend on men who have observed them; but if he does not know the sim-
ple words of his own language, pray who does?
Acting on this belief, I employed Choko (a dog), generally known as
Old Jim, and accounted the wisest aboriginal head in Yosemite, to go with
me around the valley and point out in detail all the places. He is one of
the very few original Awani now living; for a California Indian, he is excep-
tionally frank and communicative, and he is generally considered by Ameri-
cans as truthful as he is shiftless, a kind of aboriginal Sam Lawson. His
statements and pronunciations I compared with those of other Indians, that
the chances of error might be as much reduced as possible. In the follow-
ing list the signification of the name is given whenever there is any known
to the Indians.
Wa-kal’-la (the river). Merced River.
Kai-al’-a-wa, Kai-al-au’-wa, the mountains just west of E] Capitan.
Figure 35,—Pu-si’-na-chuk’-ha. (Squirrel and
acorn granary.)
7 ¥
ine wre Vibert ons) ae en ce
- We
pia
wy!
= “a
; ere
ah
16,5
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NAMES OF LOCALITIES. 363
Pit’-ptit-on, the little stream first crossed on entering the valley on
the north side.
Lung-u-tu-ku’-ya, Ribbon Fall.
Po’-ho-no, Po-ho’-no, (though the first is probably the more correct),
Bridal-Veil Fall. In Hutchings’s Guide-Book, it is stated that the Indians
believe this stream and the lake from which it flows to be bewitched, and
that they never pass it without a feeling of distress and terror. Probably
the Americans have laughed them out of this superstition, as it certainly is
not now perceptible. This word is said to signify “evil wind”. The only
“evil wind” that an Indian knows of is a whirlwind, which is poi-i’-cha or
kan'-u-ma.
Tu-tok-a-nu’-la, El Capitan. This name is a permutative substantive
formed from the verb til-tak’-a-na, to creep or advance by degrees, like a
measuring-worm. This may, therefore, be called the ‘ Measuring-worm
Stone”, of which the origin will be explained in the legend given below.
Ko-su’-ko, Cathedral Rock.
Pu-si’-na, Chuk’-ka (the squirrel and the acorn-cache), a tall, sharp
needle, with a smaller one at its base, just east of Cathedral Rock. Pu-si’-na
is “squirrel”, and chuk'-ka is “acorn-cache”. A single glance at it will
show how easily the simple savages, as they were pointing out to one
another the various objects, imagined here a squirrel nibbling at the base
of an acorn granary.
Kom-pom-pe’-sa, a low rock next west of Three Brothers. This is
erroneously spelled ‘‘Pompompasus”, applied to Three Brothers, and inter-
preted “‘mountains playing leap-frog”. The Indians know neither the word
nor the game.
Loi’-a, Sentinel Rock.
Sak’-ka-du-eh, Sentinel Dome.
Cho’-lok (the fall), Yosemite Fall. This is the generic word for
“fall”.
Um/’-mo-so (generally contracted by the Indians to Um‘-moas or Um’-
mo), the bold, towering cliff east of Yosemite Fall. According to Choko,
there was formerly a hunting-station near this point, back in the mountains,
where the Indians secreted themselves to kill deer when driven past by
364 YOSEMITE.
others. If we may credit him, they missed more than they hit. In his.
jargon of English, Spanish, and Indian, supplemented with copious and
expressive pantomime, he described how they hid themselves in the booth,
and how the deer came scurrying past; then he quickly caught up his bow
and shot, shot, shot; then peered out of the bushes, looked blank, laughed,
and cried out, “All run away; no shoot um deer!”
Ma’-ta (the canon), Indian Canon. A generic word, in explaining
which the Indians hold up both hands to denote perpendicular walls.
Ham/-mo-ko (usually contracted to Ham’-moak), a generic word, used
several times in the valley to denote the broken debris lying at the foot of
the walls.
U-zu'-mai-ti La/-wa-tuh (grizzly-bear skin), Glacier Rock. The In-
dians give it this name from the grayish, grizzled appearance of the wall
and a fancied resemblance to a bear-skin stretched out on one of its faces.
Tu-tu’-lu-wi-sak, Tu-til/-wi-ak, the southern wall of South Canon.
Cho-ko-nip’-o-deh (baby-basket), Royal Arches. This curved and
overhanging canopy-rock bears no little resemblance to an Indian baby-
basket. Another form is cho-ko'-ni; and either one means literally ‘“dog-
place” or ‘‘dog-house ”.
Tol’-leh, the soil or surface of the valley wherever not occupied by ¢
village; the commons. It also denotes the bank of a river.
Pai-wai’-ak (white water?), Vernal Fall. The common word for
“water” is kik’-kuh, but a-wai’-a means ‘a lake” or body of water. I have
detected a conjectural root, pai, pi, denoting “white”, in two languages.
Yo-wai’-yi, Nevada Fall. In this word also we detect the root of
awaia.
Tis-se’-yak, South Dome. This is the name of a woman who figures in
a legend related below. The Indian woman cuts her hair straight across the
forehead, and allows the sides to drop along her cheeks, presenting a square
face, which the Indians account the acme of female beauty ; and they think
they discover this square face in the vast front of South Dome.
To-ko’-ye, North Dome. This rock represents Tisseyak’s husband.
On one side “of him is a huge, conical rock, which the Indians call the
acorn-basket that his wife threw at him in anger.
Figure 36.—Cho-ko-nip’-o-deh, (baby-basket.)
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VILLAGES #N THE VALLEY. 365
Shun’-ta, Hun’-ta (the eye), the Watching Eye.
A-wai’-a (a lake), Mirror Lake.
Sa-wah’ (a gap), a name occurring frequently.
Wa-ha’-ka, a village which stood at the base of Three Brothers; also,
that rock itself. This was the westernmost village in the valley, and the
next one above was
Sak’-ka-ya, on the south bank of the river, a little west of Sentinel
Rock. The only other village on the south bank was
Hok-ok’-wi-dok, which stood very nearly where Hutchings’s Hotel
now stands, opposite Yosemite Fall.
Ku-mai’-ni, a village which was situated at the lower end of the great
meadow, about a quarter of a mile from Yosemite Fall.
A-wa’-ni, alarge village standing directly at the foot of Yosemite Fall.
This was the ruling town, the metropolis of this little mountain democracy,
and the giver of its name, and it is said to have been the residence of the
celebrated chief Ten-ai’-ya.
Ma-che’-to, the next village east, at the foot of Indian Canon.
No-to-mid’-u-la, a village about four hundred yards east of Macheto.
Le-sam’-ai-ti, a village standing about a fifth of a mile above the last-
mentioned.
Wis-kul’-la, the village which stood at the foot of the Royal Arches,
and the uppermost one in the valley.
Thus it will be seen that there were nine villages in Yosemite Valley,
and, according to Choko, there were formerly others extending as far down
as Bridal-Veil Fall, which were destroyed in wars that occurred before
the whites came. Ata low estimate these nine villages must have con-
tained four hundred and fifty inhabitants. Dr. L. H. Bunnell indirectly
states that the valley was not occupied during the winter, and was used
only as a summer resort and as a stronghold of refuge in case of defeat
elsewhere ; but the Indians now living say it was occupied every winter.
This is quite possible, for Mr. Hutchings and others tarry there throughout
the year without inconvenience. Moreover, the assertion of the Indians is
borne out by the locations of the villages themselves, which Choko pointed
out with great minuteness. With the exception of the two on the south
366 | YOSEMITE.
bank they were all built as close to the north wall as the avalanches of
snow and ice would permit, in order to get the benefit of the sunshine, just
as Mr. Hutchings’s winter cottage is to-day. If they had been intended
only for summer occupation they would have been placed, according to In-
dian custom, close to the river. And the fact that the Indians all leave the
valley in the winter nowadays makes nothing against this theory, for they
have become so dependent on the whites for the means of making a liveli-
hood that they would go near to perish if they remained.
LEGEND OF TU-TOK-A-NU -LA.
There were once two little boys living in the valley who went down
to the river to swim. After paddling and splashing about to their hearts’
content they went on shore and crept up on a huge bowlder that stood be-
side the water, on which they lay down in the warm sunshine to dry them-
selves. Very soon they fell asleep, and slept so soundly that they never
wakened more. Through sleeps, moons, and snows, winter and summer,
they slumbered on. Meantime the great rock whereon they slept was
treacherously rising day and night, little by little, until it soon lifted them
up beyond the sight of their friends, who sought them everywhere weeping.
Thus they were borne up at last beyond all human help or reach of human
voice, lifted up into the blue heavens, far up, far up, until they scraped
their faces against the moon; and still they slumbered and slept year after
year safe amid the clouds. Then upon a time all the animals assembled
together to bring down the little boys from the top of the great rock.
Every animal made a spring up the face of the wall as far as he could leap.
The little mouse could only jump up a handbreadth; the rat, two hand-
breadths; the raccoon, little further, and so on, the grizzly bear making a
mighty leap far up the wall, but falling back in vain, like all the others.
Last of all the lion tried, and he jumped up further than any other animal
had, but he too fell down flat on his back. Then came along an insignifi-
cant measuring-worm, which even the mouse could have crushed by tread-
ing on it, and began to creep up the rock. Step by step, a little at a time,
he measured his way up until he presently was above the lion’s jump, then
pretty soon out of sight. So he crawled up and up through many sleeps
SS
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Figure 37.—Yosemite Lodge.
LEGENDS OF THE VALLEY. 367
for about one whole snow, and at last he reached the top. Then he took
the little boys and came down the same way he went up and brought them
safely down to the ground. And so the rock was called after the measuring-
worm (tultakana) 'Tutokanula.
This is not only a true Indian story, but it has a pretty meaning, being
a kind of parallel to the fable of the hare and the tortoise that ran a race.
What all the great animals of the forest could not do the despised measur-
ing-worm accomplished simply by patience and perseverance. It also has
its value as showing the Indian idea of the formation of Yosemite, and that
they must have arrived in the valley after it had assumed its present form.
It should be remarked that the word tultakana means both the measuring-
worm and its way of creeping.
We turn now to the legend of Tis-se’-yak. As it stands in Hutchings’s
Guide-Book it was written by 8. M. Cunningham, one of the earliest set-
tlers in the valley, who first printed it in an eastern newspaper. It is a thou-
sand pities to hack and slash in such a miserable way this somewhat tropical
legend, but fidelity to aboriginal truth compels me to do it. In its present
shape it is a production quite too embellished to have originated in a Cali-
fornia Indian’s imagination, hence it is not representative, not illustrative.
Tisseyak, instead of being a “ goddess of the valley”, was a very prosaic
and commonplace woman, who was beaten by her husband because she
drank the water before him; and the picture of Indian life revealed in that
action, however rude and brutal it may be, is wholly concealed in the story
as Mr. Cunningham wrote it.
LEGEND OF TIS-SE’-YAK.
Tisseyak and her husband journeyed from a country very far off, and
entered this valley foot-sore and weary. She came in advance, bowing far
forward under the heavy burden of her great conical basket, which was
strapped across her forehead, while he followed easily after, with a rude
staff in his hand and a roll of skin-blankets flung over his back. After their
long journey across the mountains they were exceedingly thirsty, and they
now hastened forward to drink of the cool waters. But the woman was
still in front, and thus it fell out that she reached the lake Awaia first. Then
368 YOSEMITE.
she dipped up the water of the lake in her basket and quaffed long and
deep. She even drank up all the water and drained the lake dry before
her husband arrived. And thus, because the woman had drunk all the
water, there came a grievous drought in that land, and the earth was dried
up so that it yielded neither herb nor grass. But the thing which the
woman had done displeased her husband, and his wrath was greatly moved
because he had no water, so that he beat the woman with his staff full sore.
She fled from before him, but he pursued after her and beat her yet the
more. And the woman wept, and in her anger she turned about and reviled
the man and flung her basket at him. So it befell that, even while they
were in this attitude, one standing over against the other, facing, they were
turned into stone for their wickedness, and there they have remained to
thisday. The basket lies upturned beside the husband, while the woman’s
face is tear-stained with long dark lines trailing down.
South Dome is the woman and North Dome is her husband, while beside
the latter is a lower dome which represents the basket. The acme of female
beauty is reached in the fashion of cutting off the hair straight across the
top of the forehead, and allowing the side-locks to droop beside the ears ;
and the Indians fancy they discover this square-cut appearance on the face
of the South Dome. Probably the only significance of this little story is a
reference to some severe drought that once prevailed in the valley.
There are other legends in Yosemite, including one of a Mono maiden
who loved an Awani brave and was imprisoned by her cruel father in a
cave until she perished; also one of the inevitable lover's leap. But neither
Choko nor any other Indian could give me any information touching them,
and Choko dismissed them all with the contemptuous remark, “ White man
too much lie.”
Figure 33.—Tis-se’-yak.
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CHAPTER XXXV.
THE YO!-KUTS.
In the language of this nation yo’-kuts denotes ‘ Indian” or “Indians”,
and no’-no, “man”. (It is a singular fact that nearly every language has
different words for ‘‘man” and ‘“‘Indian”.) As often before, so here again
it is necessary to adopt a word in common use as a basis of classification,
since they have no national name.
We have seen how the California Indians in the extreme northern part
of their domain were, at the time of the American advent, being driven
back and crushed out by the stronger and fiercer Athabascan races. Like-
wise in the southern part of their habitat this peaceful race was slowly
giving way before the incursions of the more powerful and warlike Paiuti
of Nevada. All along the eastern side of the great interior basin the Sierra
Nevada interposes an effectual barrier against the latter, protecting the
Californians on that side; but the passes which occur at the northern and
southern points of junction between the Sierra and the Coast Range allowed
the Athabascan tribes and the Paiuti, respectively, to swarm in toward the
rich and tempting plains of California, dispossessing the feebler peoples who
were there before them.
Living as they do at the lower end of the great basin, the Yokuts
received the brunt of the Paiuti attacks. So severe were the latter that
the Yokuts, as a geographically solid body of allied tribes, were cut in two
in one place and nearly in another. Their habitat stretched originally from
the Fresno River to Fort Tejon; but the Paiuti tribes, swarming through
Ta-hi’-cha-pa, Tejon, and Walker's Passes, seized and occupied Kern
River, White River, Posa Creek, and Kern Lake, thus completely severing
the Yokuts nation, and leaving an isolated fragment of it at Fort Tejon, in
369
24 TC
370 THE YOKUTS.
a nook of the mountains. Doubtless they would eventually have seized
all the streams emptying into Tulare Lake, but they seem to have become
enervated by the malaria, and reduced to the same condition of sluggish-
ness as the people whom they displaced.
At the time of the American advent, therefore, the Yokuts occupied
the south bank of the Fresno; the San Joaquin, from Whisky Creek down
to the mouth of the Fresno; King’s River, from Mill Creek down to the
mouth; the Kaweah, Tule River, and Deer Creek; the west shore of
Tulare Lake, and the isolated mountain-nook at Fort Tejon.
Their tribal distribution was as follows: On the San Joaquin, from
Whisky Creek down to Millerton, are the Chik’-chan-si; farther down, the
Pit’-ka-chi, now extinct. On King’s River, going down stream, are the fol-
lowing bands, in their order: 'Tis-e’-chu, Chai-nim’-ai-ni, It-i’-cha, Wi’-chi-
kik, Ta’-chi, No-toan’-ai-ti, the latter on the lake, the Tachi at Kingston.
On Dry Creek are the Kas-so’-vo; in Squaw Valley the Chu-kai’-mi-na.
On the Kaweah River, beginning in the mountains, are the Wik’-sach-i,
Wik-chum’-ni (in the foot-hills), Kau-i’-a (onthe edge of the plains),
Yu’-kol (on the plains), Te’-lum-ni (two miles below Visalia), Chu’-nut (at
the lake’. On Tule River are the O-ching’-i-ta (at Painted Rock), Ai’-a-pai
(at Soda Spring), Mai-ai’-u (on South Fork), Sa-wakh’-tu (on the main
river), Ki-a-wet'-ni (at Porterville). At Fort Tejon are the Tin’-lin-neh
(from tin’-nilh, “a hole”), so called on account of some singular depressions
in the earth in that vicinity. A little further north, near Kern Lake, are
the Po-hal’-lin-Tin‘leh (squirrel-holes), so named on account of the great
number of ground-squirrels living in that place.
In the Yokuts nation there appears to be more political solidarity, more
capacity in the petty tribes of being grouped into large and coherent
masses, than is common in the State. This is particularly true of those
living on the plains, who display in their encampments a military precision
and regularity which are remarkable. Every village consists of a single
row of wigwams, conical or wedge-shaped, generally made of tule, and
just enough hollowed out within so that the inmates may sleep with the
head higher than the feet, all in perfect alignment, and with a continuous
awning of brushwood stretching along in front. In one end-wigwam lives
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GOVERNMENTAL ORGANIZATION, 371
the village captain; in the other, the shaman or s?-se’-ro (Spanish, hechizero).
Inthe mountains there is some approach to this martial array, but it is
universal on the plains.
But it is more especially in their actual organization, and in the
instances of great leaders who have arisen, that this quality is manifested.
Every large natural division of territory possessing a certain homogeneity
constitutes the domain of one tribe and one chief—for instance, a river-
valley, from the snow-line down to the plains, or from the foot-hills to the
lake—though nowadays this system has been disturbed by the whites. In
this domain every village has a captain, who stands to the central chief in
the relation of a governor to the President, and is generally distinguished
from his subjects by his long hair. At certain annual meetings and other
occasions each eaptain reports to his chief the general condition of his vil-
lage as to morals, as to quarrels, as to the acorn-crop, etc. In return, the
chief delivers a long oration of advice and counsel; warns, instructs, and
admonishes his subalterns; and, if necessary, berates soundly any delin-
quent. Both the chiefship and the captaincy are hereditary, that is, if the
son does not prove to be afool. But either can appoint his successor as he
likes. For instance, Santiago, captain of the Tachi, had two sons, Ka’-teh
and Ku'-to-mats, of whom Kateh was the first-born, but he designated the
other to succeed him, because, as Kateh ingenuously acknowledged, “he
was the smartest”.
Instances of this harmonious hierarchy of ranks exist yet in Chi-wi'-ni,
who is chief over all the villages in Squaw Valley ; in Wa-tu’-ga, who is
chief of the three upper villages on King’s River; and in Slok’-nich, chief
of the Chukchansi.
The captain has no substantial authority, even to appoint the time for a
special mourning or a fandango; he must request the chief to do so in his
behalf. But nowadays there are many villages which have broken away
and become independent, and their captains exercise all the power the
tribe will bear, which is small. In early days the chief sometimes wielded
considerable authority, as the following instances will evince:
Ten or fifteen years ago Pascual consolidated all the villages on
King’s River, except the one at the mouth, into a robust little kingdom;
372 THE YOKUTS.
and he made his name feared and dreaded for many a score of miles around.
He “bound out” his subjects at will, adults and children alike, to the
ranchmen, on life-long indentures.
Nai-ak’-a-we was a famous prophet of the Chukchansi, who died in
1854. It is said that his name was known and his power was acknowledged
from King’s River as far north as Columbia; but this seems hardly probable.
Naiakawe had a lofty ambition, and he meditated great and benevolent
designs for his people, but he was doomed to disappointment. He sought
to mollify those miserable janglings and that clannishness which have been
so fatal to the California Indians from time immemorial; to reconcile the
warring captains of villages and chiefs of tribes, and thereby harmonize
them into one powerful nation, peaceful at home and respected and feared
abroad. But the question of a food-supply was one which this savage
statesman, however able and far-sighted, could not master. In ancient
times they had immense herds of elk and deer, and, sweeping over the plains
on their swift mustangs, they could shoot down at any time a fat bronco
bogged by the lake (for the Indians of this State used to eat horse-flesh,
until the influence of the Americans gradually induced them to abandon it);
but now all these were gone, they had to scatter into families to collect food,
the wretched feuds of the petty captains were eternally breaking out afresh,
and Naiakawe beheld one hope after another and one noble design after
another pass away; so he died at last broken-hearted. He said he did not
wish to survive the ruin of his people.
Another notable characteristic of the Yokuts is the great influence and
extensive journeyings of their wizards or rain-makers (¢éss). Ke’-ya, who
lives at Woodville, is one instance; but the most remarkable is Hop-od’-no.
Though living at Fort Tejon, he has by his personal presence, his elo-
quence, and his cunning jugglery, made his fame and authority recognized
for two hundred miles northward, to the banks of the San Joaquin. In
1870, the first of two successive years of drought, he made a pilgrimage
from the fort up as far as King’s River, and at every centrally-located vil-
lage he made a pause and sent out runners to collect all the Indians of the
vicinal villages to listen to him. In long and elaborate harangues he would
promise them to bring rain on the dried-up earth, if they would contribute
MAKING RAIN—MANUFACTURE OF BOWS. 373
liberally of their substance. But he was yet an unknown prophet. They
were incredulous, and mostly laughed him to scorn, whereupon he would
leave the village in high dudgeon, denouncing war upon their heads, and .
threatening them with a continuance of the drought another year far worse
than before. Sure enough, the enraged Hopodno brought drought a sec-
ond year, and the Indians were smitten with remorse and terror, believing
him endowed with superhuman power; and when next year he made a sec-
ond pilgrimage, offerings were showered upon him in abundance, and men
heard him with trembling. He compelled them to pay him fifty cents
apiece, American money, and many gladly gaye much more. And he
made rain.
As to their implements and weapons, there are some interesting par-
ticulars to be noted. Here, as everywhere on the Sacramento and Joaquin
plains, the Indians make no bows, but purchase them all from the mount-
aineers. This is because they have no cedar. This wood is extremely
brittle when dry, and is then the poorest possible material for bows; but
by anointing it every day with deer’s marrow while it is drying the Indian
overcomes this quality and renders it the best. The bow is taken from the
white or sap wood, the outside of the tree being also the outside of the bow.
It is scraped and polished down with wonderful painstaking, so that it may
bend evenly, and the ends are generally carved so as to point back slightly.
Then the Indian takes a quantity of deer’s sinew, splits it up with flint into
small fibers, and glues them on the outside or flat back of the weapon until
it becomes semi-cylindrical in shape. These strings of sinew, being lapped
around the end of the bow and doubled back a little way, impart to it its
wonderful strength and elasticity. The glue is made by boiling the joints
of various animals and combining the product with pitch.
I saw a bow thus carefully made in the hands of an aged chief, and it
was truly a magnificent weapon. It was about five feet long, smooth and
shining—for when it becomes a little soiled the fastidious savage scrapes
it slightly with flint, then anoints it afresh with marrow—and of such great
strength that it would require a giant to bend it in battle. For lack of
skins the owner carried it in a calico case. The string, composed of twisted
sinew, was probably equal in strength to a sea-grass rope of three times its
3714 THE YOKUTS.
diameter. Whén not used the bow was unstrung, and the string tied around
the left limb of the bow, and to prevent the slightest lesion of either the bow
or the string the former had a section of fur from some animal’s tail, about
four inches long, slipped on to it.
Of arrows, the Indians living on the plains made some for themselves
out of button-willow, straight twigs of the buckeye, and canes, but the most
durable came from the mountains. There are two kinds, war-arrows and
game-arrows; the former furnished with flint-heads, the latter not. The
shaft of the war-arrow consists of a single piece, but that of the game-arrow
is frequently composed of three pieces, furnished with sockets so adjusted
as to fit into each other snugly. When the hunter, lurking behind the
covert, sees the quarry approaching, he measures quickly with his eye the
probable length of the shot he will have to make, and if it is a long one he
couches his arrow with three pieces; but if a short one, with extraordinary
quickness he twitches it apart, takes out the middle section, claps the two
end sections together again, and fires. An arrow made of what we should
pronounce the frailest of all woods, the tender shoot of a buckeye, and
pointed with flint, has carried death to many a savage in battle. I have
seen an Indian couch a game-arrow, which was pointed only with a section
of arrow-wood, and drive it a full half-inch into the hardest oak! An old
hunter says he has seen an Indian stand a hundred paces distant from a
hare, slowly raise his long, polished bow, shoot a quick glance along the
arrow, then send it whizzing through both his enormous ears, pinning him
fast to a tree behind him.
Some mention was made in Chapter XI of the manner in which flint
arrow-heads are made. Mr. E. G. Waite, in a communication to the Over-
land Monthly, gives the following description of the method employed both
in Central California and among the Klamaths, as he witnessed it in an
early day :
“The rock of flint or obsidian, esteemed by the natives for arrow-
pointing, is broken into flat pieces, after the manner usually described.
When the pieces have reached a proper size for arrow-heads the mode of
finishing it is in this wise: The palm of the left hand is covered with buck-
skin held in its place by the thumb being thrust through a hole in it. The
SOME MANUFACTURES. aD
inchoate arrow-head is laid on this pad along the thick of the thumb, the
points of the fingers pressing it firmly down. The instrument used to
shape the stone is the end of a deer’s antler, from four to six inches in
length, held in the right hand. The small round point of this is judiciously
pressed upon the edge of the stone, cleaving it away underward in small
scales. The buckskin, of course, is to prevent the flesh from being
wounded by the sharp scales. The arrow-head is frequently turned around
and over to cleave away as much from one side as the other, and to give it
the desired size and shape. It is a work of no little care and skill to make
even so rude an instrument as an arrow-head seems to be, only the most
expert being very successful at the business. Old men are usually seen at
this employment.”
Mr. B. P. Avery, in an article entitled “Chips from an Indian Work-
shop”, published in the same magazine, gives a very pleasant account of a
visit made by him, near the summit of the Sierra, to what had evidently
been the spots selected by the aborigines for the manufacture of these
arrow-heads. ‘They were generally so chosen as to show that the Indians
had an eye for the picturesque and the romantic, on bold, overlooking
promontories, commanding prospects far and wide down the mountain slope
and over the plains; and the brilliant-colored chips of obsidian, jasper,
chert, cornelian, and other flints, lying in piles, compléted a very pleasing
picture.
Most California Indians go now, and always have gone, barefoot; but
some few were industrious enough to make for themselves moccasins of a
very rude sort, more properly sandals. Their method of tanning was by
means of brain-water. They dried the brains of deer and other animals,
reduced it to powder, put the powder into water, and soaked the skins
therein—a process which answered tolerably well. The graining was done
with flints. Elk-hide, being very thick, make the best sandals,
The usual shell-money is used among them, and a string of it reaching
from the point of the middle finger to the elbow is valued at 25 cents.
A section of bone, very white and polished, about two and a half
inches long, is sometimes strung on the string, and rates at 124 cents.
They uniformly undervalue articles bought from the Americans; for
376 THE YOKU'S.
instance, goods which eost them at the store $5 they sell among themselves
for $3, or thereabout. This is done by the old Indians, who consider an
Indian dollar better than an American.
They say that, in remote times, they were accustomed to rub their
acorns to-flour on a stone slightly hollowed, like the Mexican metate, which
was a suggestion of the mouse; but nowadays they pound them in holes on
top of huge bowlders, which was a suggestion of the wiser coyote. Ona
bowlder in Coarse Gold Gulch, I counted eighty-six of these acorn-holes,
which shows that they must have been used many centuries.
For snaring quail, rabbits, and other small game, they employ cords
made of a kind of ‘ wild flax” found.in the Sierra. I presume this ‘“ wild
flax” is milkweed (Asclepias).
Manzanita cider is made of a much better quality than the wretched
stuff seen among the Wintin. After reducing the berries to flour by
pounding, they carefully remove all the seeds and skins, then soak the flour
in water for a considerable length of time. A squaw then heaps it up in a
little mound, with a crater in the center, into which she pours a minute
stream of water, allowing it to percolate through. In this way she gets
about a gallon an hour of a really delicious beverage, clear, cool, clean,
and richer than most California apple cider. The Indians consume it all
before it has time to ferment, so that they do not get intoxicated on it.
In the mountain streams which empty into Tulare Lake they catch lake
trout, chubs, and suckers. Sometimes they construct a weir across the river
with a narrow chute and a trap set in it; then go above and stretch a line
of brushwood from one bank to the other, which they drag down stream,
driving the fish into the trap. Another way is to erect a brushwood booth
over the water, so thickly covered as to be perfectly dark inside; then an
Indian lies flat on his belly, peering down though a hole, and when a fish
passes under him he spears it. The spear is pointed with bone, and is two-
pronged. Still another method is employed on Tule River and King’s
River. An Indian takes a funnel-shaped trap in his teeth and hands, buoys
himself on a little log, and then floats silently down the rapids, holding the
net open to receive the fish that may be shooting up. On Tulare Lake
they construct very rude, frail punts or mere troughs of tule, about ten feet
Figure 41.—Baby-basket, acorn-baskets, sifters, &c.
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BOATS, MORTARS, AND BASKETS—GAMBLING. sar lft
long, in which they cruise timidly about near the shore. There is a margin
where the bottom is almost level and the waves ran light; but the midd'e
of the lake is of immense depth, and the billows sometimes lash themselves
into oceanic proportions.
Around the lake and on King’s River one will often find a family
using a tolerably well-made stone mortar. They always admit that they
did not manufacture these implements, but happened on them in digging
or found them on the surface, and that they belonged to a race other
than their own. They sometimes have the ingenuity to improve on them
by fastening a basket-hopper around the top to prevent the acorns from
flying out. On the west side of Tulare Lake these mortars are very numer-
ous, and of course they must have been carried thither from the mountains.
On Tule River I saw the process of basket-weaving. Instead of wil-
low twigs for the framework or warp, the squaw takes long stalks of grass,
(Sporobolus); and for the threads or the woof various barks or roots split
fine—pine root for a white color, willow bark for a brown, and some unknown
bark for a black. The process of weaving is like that heretofore described;
the awl or needle was the sharpened thigh-bone of a hawk.
The Gualala style of gambling prevails all over the State, but the
Yokuts have another sort, which pertains exclusively to the women. It is
a kind of dice-throwing, and is called w-chu'-us. For a dice they take half
of a large acorn or walnut shell, fill it level with pitch and pounded char-
coal, and inlay it with bits of bright-colored abalone shells. For a dice-
table they weave a very large, fine basket-tray, almost flat, and ornamented
with devices woven in black or brown, mostly rude imitations of trees and
geometrical figures. Four squaws sit around it to play, and a fifth keeps
tally with fifteen sticks. There are eight dice, and they scoop them up in
their hands and dash them into the basket, counting one when two or five
flat surfaces turn up.
The rapidity with which the game goes forward is wonderful, and the
players seem totally oblivious to all things in the world beside. After each
throw that a player makes she exclaims yet'-ni (equivalent to ‘‘one-y”), or
wi-a-tak, or ko-mai-ch, which are simply a kind of sing-song or chanting
One old squaw, with scarcely a tooth in her head, one eye gone, her face
378 THE YOKUTS.
all withered, but with a lower jaw as of iron, and features denoting extrao1
dinary strength of will—a reckless old gambler, and evidently a teacher
of the others—after each throw would grab into the basket, and jerk her
hand across it, as if by the motion of the air to turn the dice over before
they settled, and ejaculate wiatak! It was amusing to see the savage energy
with which this fierce old hag carried on the game. The others were modest
and spoke in low tones, but she seemed to be unaware of the existence of
anybody around her.
Following are the Yokuts numerals, taken at three places:
KINGSTON. KAWEAH RIVER. FORT TEJON.
One. yet. yet. yet.
Two. po-no’-eh. puing’-o-eh. poan’-oikh.
Three. so’-pin, s0-0'-pin. s0-0'-pin.
Four. ha’-to-po-noh., ha-to-pang-ih’. ha-to-poan’-oikh.,
Five. yit’-sen-it. yi-tsing’-ut. | yi-tsin’-et.
Six. cha’-lip-eh. chu’-di-peh. _ tso’-li-pih.
Seven. nom’-chil. noam’-chin. noam’-chikhl.
Kight. mo-noas’. mu -ntish. mu’-nus.
Nine. se’-po-noat. no’-nip. so’-pon-hut.
Ten. tsi’-oh. ti’-i-hoh. ti’-i-hoh.
On the Tule River Reservation they have coined names for the days
of the week. They are these: Wu-lo’-a, Po’-ni-o, So’-pi-o, Hots’-po,
Ya’-ti-so, Chol’-po, Hu-lo’-sa.
Their theory of disease is, that it all resides in the blood. To prove
this, they cite the fact that the blood always collects underneath a bruise
and makes it dark ; and also the fact that drawn blood coagulates. Hence
their favorite remedy was scarification with small flints. And when they
became acquainted with the process of cupping, they wearied the reserva-
tion surgeon with applications to have it performed on them for every little
ailment. For diseases of the bowels they boil up a mess of a large and
very stinking ant, and give it internally.
Their range of food is extensive. Around the lake they cut and dry
the seed-stalks of a kind of flag (Typha) which has a head something like a
EDIBLES—SACRED ANIMALS 379
teasel, thresh out the seed and make flour of if; also wild rye and wild
sunflower seed. They eat grass-nuts (Cyperus) and the seeds of the same,
a plant with a triangular stalk. In the mountains they used to fire the
forests, and thereby catch great quantities of grasshoppers and caterpillars
already roasted, which they devoured with relish, and this practice kept the
underbrush burned out, and the woods much more open and park-like than
at present. This was the case all along the Sierra. But since about 1862,
for some reason or other, the yield of grasshoppers has been limited. They
are fond of a huge, succulent worm, resembling the tobacco-worm, which is
roasted ; also the larvee of yellow-jackets, which they pick out and eat raw.
Dogs are reared (or were) largely for the flesh which they supply, which
is accounted by them a special dainty, and which comes well in play, like
the farmer’s yellow-legged chicken, when other meat is scarce. Unlike the
Miwok, they eat skunks.
Among the animals which are, in some sort, sacred to them, is the
rattlesnake (te’-el), which they never destroy. A story is related of an
Indian who captured one on the plains and carefully conveyed it into the
mountains, where he released it, that it might be less liable to the attacks
of white men; and of another, who, seeing an American about to destroy
one, scared it into the rocks that it might escape. The coyote also moved
among them with perfect impunity, for he is revered as the creator of the
universe. Before the impious American came, these animals swarmed thick
about every mountain rancheria, and they often chased the dogs into the
village itself. An old hunter says he has seen Indian dogs more than once
turn on a coyote and drive it off a few rods, when it would fall on its side,
turn up its legs, and commence playing with them. It is a singular fact
that, in the Gallinoméro language, hai’-yuw denotes “dog”, while in the
Yokuts kai’-yw means “coyote”. Indeed, to judge from his appearance to
this day, the Indian dog is an animal in whose genealogy the coyote largely
assisted. In the Wintin language the word for “ coyote” is literally “ hill-
dog”.
Some of the medical practice, and all of the midwifery, are performed
by the women. In cases of severe travail they frequently employ a decoc-
tion of scraped bear’s claws. Again, the nurse will smear her palms with
380 THE YOKUTS.
pine sugar, hold them before the fire until it is melted, then lay them gently
on the abdomen of the parturient. The sweat-house everywhere prevails,
of course, but it is smaller among these southern out-door people than it is
farther north, being never used for a council-house or a dance-house.
The rain-maker, or wizard, though very potent, can be put to death
by vote of a council, in case a patient dies under his treatment. Occasion-
ally the manner of his taking-off is still more tragic. 'The Mono, being
unsophisticated mountaineers, originally had no professional wizards, and
in 1864 a Yokuts, named Sacate, went up from the plains to them, and
for a time prosecuted an extremely lucrative practice. But he finally lost
a case, and thereupon the simple and sincere Mono, being unable to com-
prehend how a man whose function was to save life could lose it and be
guiltless, crushed in his skull with a stone. ay
These wizards sometimes chew the seeds of the jimson-weed (Datura
meteloides) to induce delirium, which their dupes regard as the touch of an
unseen power, and their crazy ravings as divinely-inspired oracles. It is
related that an ambitious wizard once chewed too much seed and yielded
up the ghost.
An old Indian, named Chu-chu’-ka, relates that many years ago there
was a terrible plague which raged on both sides of the Fresno, destroying
thousands of lives. According to his account it was a black-tongue disease.
Abundant evidences of his truthfulness have been discovered in the shape
of bones. A man named Holt was digging a ditch on Ray’s ranch, near
Sand Creek, and found such an immense number of bones about eighteen
inches under the surface that, after digging three hundred yards, he was
forced to abandon the undertaking. On Hildreth’s ranch, near Pool-of-
Water, a large box of human bones was collected in making a garden.
It is the custom of the wizards to hold every spring the rattlesnake
dance (ta-tw'-lo-wis), which is a source of great profit to the cunning rogues.
They plant green boughs in a circle, inclosing a space fifty or sixty yards
in diameter, wherein the performances are held, as are most of the Yokuts’
dances. The great audience is congregated in the middle, while the wiz-
ards dance around the circle, next to the arboreal wall. Besmeared with
numerous and fantastic streaks of paint, and gorgeously topped with feath-
“SKUNK MEETINGS”—DANCES—MARRIAGE. 381
ers, four of them caper around like clowns in a circus, chasing each other,
chanting, brandishing rattlesnakes in their hands, twining them about their
arms, and suffering them to bite their hands. It is supposed that they have
either plucked their fangs, or have not allowed them to drink any water for
a number of days beforehand, which is said to render them harmless. But
the credulous savages believe them invulnerable, and they eagerly press
forward with their offerings, in return for which the wizards give them com-
plete immunity from snake-bites for the space of a year. The younger
Indians, somewhat indoctrinated in American ideas, have become sadly
skeptical and heretical in regard of these dances, which they contemptuously
term ‘‘
skunk meetings”, to the great scandal of their pious elders.
Formerly the step danced by the men on most occasions might not
inappropriately be called the piston-rod dance, as they seemed intent on
driving their legs alternately into the earth. Of late they have adopted
from the Mono the grand walk-round, in a single circle, men and women
together, and with an entirely different and less violent step.
Although they have a form of war-dance, and the Chukchansi warred
a great deal with the Pohonichi of old, as a race they are peaceful, and they
take no scalps. But of late years, under the aggravation of aggressions by
white men, they have adopted from the warlike Mono the red paint (instead
of black), which has so terrible a significance in a savage dance, and the
appearance of which always makes the frontiersmen uneasy. From them,
also, they have learned to talk of war, to bluster, to threaten darkly, to hold
secret conclaves far within the depths of the mountains, from which the
whites were rigidly excluded. But nothing has come of them. These things
are foreign to the peaceful Yokuts, and the Monos, though they are sup-
posed to have attempted it many times, have never succeeded in screwing
their neighbors’ courage up to the sticking-point of joining them in a war
on the whites.
Nowadays 520 or $30 in gold is paid for a wife, but this only for a
virgin. For a widow or a maid suspected of unchastity no man will pay
anything or make any presents; and it is due to the Yokuts to state that a
pioneer who has lived among them twenty-one years affirms that before the
arrival of the Americans they were comparatively virtuous. Dr. E. B. Bate-
382 THE YOKUTS.
man, physician to the Tule River Reservation, gives me the information
that both males and females, though bathing quite apart, never enter the
water without wearing breech-cloths at least; and this is corroborated by an
old resident on King’s River, who observed it of them in their native con-
dition. Mr. Charles Maltby, agent of the above reservation, and at one
time Indian agent for the whole State, and well acquainted with aboriginal
habits, also affirms that the Yokuts are purer than the northern tribes, and
that the Indians throughout Southern California are less given to the
infamous practice of selling the virtue of their women to white men than
those of Northern California. They may not have been any better origi-
nally, but they have not been so shamefully debauched by miners. That
is probably the explanation.
Their language has what is generally considered a good indication,
separate words for “woman” (mo-kel’-la), and wife (mo-ki’); also, for “‘man”
(no’-no) and ‘‘ husband” (lo‘-wit).
We find also the singular custom noticed in some other tribes, that a
man marrying goes to live at his wife’s or father-in-law’s house, though he
still has power‘of life or death over her person.
Infanticide is practiced in case of deformity.
Many years ago the Indians dwelling on the lake at the mouth of King’s
River were carried away captives by the Spaniards, and taken to San Luis
Obispo. After along residence there, upon the breaking up of the missions,
they returned to their native land; but meantime a new generation had
grown up, to whom the old mission was their home. They yearned to
return, and to this day they make an annual pilgrimage to San Luis, where
they remain a month; and they would by preference live there all their
remaining days, only their children, born on the shores of Tulare Lake,
will not consent. By some this may be considered a convincing proof of
their attachment to the old Jesuit padres, who used to lasso them in the
name of the church; but it is not necessary to resort to this explanation at
all. It is easily enough accounted for by the California Indian’s proverbial
love of his birthplace, just as the slave-born children of Israel lusted for
the flesh-pots of that Egypt which had scourged them.
If an Indian dies on atrail far from home he is buried beside it. Every
DEATH AND ANNIHILATION—MAKING MOUNTAINS. 283
one who passes the mound casts upon it a stone, or a string of shell-money,
or some other offering, which pious service will secure him from the dire
calamity of dying away from home and friends.
Incremation is pretty general, though the Chukchansi are said to burn
only those who die a violent death or are snake-bitten, and bury all others.
A widow or widower is expected to mourn one year, and if they remarry
within that time they are discountenanced. This is not saying that they do
not sometimes nowadays, since they have become debauched by ‘civiliza-
tion”, remarry in a week, even, occasionally; but there is good reason to
believe that in their better days of savagery they observed this period with
much scrupulosity. But as soon as the first dance for the dead occurs it
releases all the mourners in the tribe from further seclusion, even if it should
happen only a few days after some death, and then they are free to enjoy
all the gayeties as before.
As there has been some sharp discussion of the existence of an aborigi-
nal belief in annihilation of the soul after death, it is worth while to adduce
the testimony of one who should know. J. H. Bethel, who lived among
the Chukchansi twenty-one years, and spoke their language fluently, affirms
that this belief is very generally diffused, both among the Yokuts and the
Mono.
ORIGIN OF THE MOUNTAINS.
Once there was a time when there was nothing in the world but water.
About the place where Tulare Lake is now, there was a pole standing far
up out of the water, and on this pole perched a hawk and a crow. First
one of them would sit on the pole awhile, then the other would knock him
off and sit on it himself. Thus they sat on top of the pole above the
waters for many ages. At length they wearied of the lonesomeness, and
they created the birds which prey on fish such as the kingfisher, eagle,
pelican, and others. Among them was a very small duck, which dived
down, to the bottom of the water, picked its beak full of mud, came up,
died, and lay floating on the water. The hawk and the crow then fell
to work and gathered from the duck’s beak the earth which it had brought
up, and commenced making the mountains. They began at the place
now known as Ta-hi’-cha-pa Pass, and the hawk made the east range,
384 THE YOKUTS.
while the crow made the west one. Little by little, as they dropped in the
earth, these great mountains grew athwart the face of the waters, pushing
porth. It was a work of many years, but finally they met together at
Mount Shasta, and their labors were ended. But, behold, when they com-
pared their mountains, it was found that the crow’s was a great deal the
larger. Then the hawk said to the crow, ‘‘ How did this happen, you rascal?
I warrant you have been stealing some of the earth from my Dill, and that
is why your mountains are the biggest.” It was a fact, and the crow
laughed in his claws. Then the hawk went and got some Indian tobacco
and chewed it, and it made him exceedingly wise. So he took hold of the
mountains and turned them round in a circle, putting his range in place of
the crow’s; and that is why the Sierra Nevada is larger than the Coast
Range.
This legend is of value as showing the aboriginal notions of geography.
In explaining the story, the Indian drew in the sand a long ellipse, repre-
senting quite accurately the shape of the two ranges; and he had never
traveled away from King’s River.
While in Coarse Gold Gulch, it was my good fortune to witness the
great dance for the dead (ko-ti’-wa-chil), which was one of the most extraor-
dinary human spectacles I ever beheld. It was not the regular annual
dance, but a special one, held by request of Ko-lo’-mus-nim, a subchief of
the Chukchansi; but it was in all respects as strange, as awful, as imposing
an exhibition of barbaric superstition and barbaric affection as is afforded
by the formal anniversary. Not to my dying hour will the recollection of
that frightful midnight pageant be effaced.
First, it will be well to explain that among the Yokuts the dance for
the dead is protracted nearly a week. The first two or three nights, while
they are waiting for the assembling of ihe tardy delegations, are occupied
only in speech-making, story-telling, ete., until a late hour; but during the
last three nights they dance throughout the night until morning, and on the
third night, about daybreak, they burn the offerings consecrated to the
dead. This happened to be the first of the last three nights, hence no
burning occurred, but in every other respect it was complete, and all the
THE DANCE FOR THE DEAD. 385
exercises were conducted with more energy and with fuller choruses than
they would have been after the Indians had become exhausted.
When Tueh, the Indian interpreter, and myself entered the camp it
was already an hour after nightfall, but there were yet no indications of
a beginning of the dark orgies that were to be enacted. We found about
three hundred Indians assembled, in a place remote from any American
habitations, and encamped in light, open booths of brushwood, running
around three sides of a spacious quadrangle. This quadrangle had been
swept and beaten smooth for a dancing-floor, and near one of the inside
corners there was a small, circular embankment, like a circus-ring, with the
sacred fire brightly burning in the center. Kolomusnim and his relatives,
the chief mourners, occupied the corner-booths near this ring, and near by
was Sloknich, the head-chief of the Chukchansi, by whose authority this
assembly had been convened. Here and there a fire burned with a stag-
gering, sleepy blaze just outside the quadrangle, faintly glimmering through
the booths; at intervals an Indian moved stealthily across the half-illu-
minated space within; while every few minutes the atmosphere was ren-
dered discordant and hideous, as indeed the whole night was, during the
most solemn passages, by the yelping, snarling, and fighting of the hordes
of dogs.
For fully half an hour we slowly sauntered and loitered about the
quadrangle, conversing in undertones, but still nothing occurred to break
the somber silence, save the ever-recurring scurries of yelps from the
accursed dogs. Now and then an Indian slowly passed across and sat
down on the circular embankment, while others in silence occasionally fed
the sacred fire. But at last, from Kolomusnim’s quarter, there came up a
long, wild, haunting wail, in a woman’s voice. After a few minutes it was
repeated. Soon another joined in, then another, and another, slowly, very
slowly, until the whole quarter was united in an eldritch, dirge-like, dismal
chorus. After about half an hour it ceased, as slowly as it began; and
again there was profound, death-like silence ; and again it was broken by
the ever-renewed janglings of the dogs.
Some time again elapsed before any further movement was made, and
then Sloknich, a little, old man, but straight as an arrow, with a sharp face
25 T ©
386 _- '‘)HE YOKUTS.
and keen, little, basilisk eyes, stepped forth into the quadrangle and began
to walk slowly to and fro around its three sides, making the opening proc-
lamation. He spoke in extremely short, jerky sentences, with much repeti-
tion, substantially as follows :
“Make ready for the mourning. Let all make ready. Everybody
make ready. Prepare your offerings. Your offerings to the dead. Have
them all ready. Show them to the mourners. Let them see your sym-
pathy. The mourning comes on. It hastens. Everybody make ready.”
He continued in this manner for about twenty minutes, then ceased
and entered his booth; after which silence, funereal and profound, again
brooded over the encampment. By this proclamation he had formally
opened the proceedings, and he took no further part in them, except in a
short speech of condolence. By this time the Indians had collected in con-
siderable numbers on the embankment, and they kept slowly coming for-
ward until the circle was nearly completed, and the fire was only visible
shooting up above their heads. A low hum of conversation began to buzz
around it, as of slowly awakening activity. The slow piston-rod of
aboriginal dignity was begmning to ply; the clatter and whizzing of the
machinery were swelling gradually up. No women had yet come out, for
they took no part in the earlier proceedings. It was now quite ten o’clock,
and we were getting impatient.
Presently the herald, a short, stout Indian, with a most voluble tongue,
came out into the quadrangle with a very long staff in his hand, and paced
slowly up and down the lines of booths, proclaiming :
“Prepare for the dance. Let all make ready. We are all friends.
We are all one people. We were a great tribe once. We are little now.
All our hearts are as one. We have one heart. Make ready your offer-
ings.. The women have the most money. The women have the most
offerings. They give the most. Get ready the tobacco. Let us chew the
tobacco.”
This man spoke with an extraordinary amount of repetition. Jor
instance, he would say : ‘The women—the women—the women—have the
most—have the most—the most money—have the most money—the
PROCLAMATIONS AND PRELIMINARIES. 387
women---the women—have the most offerings—the most offerings—give
the most—give the most—the women—the women—give the most.”
He spoke fully as long as Sloknich had done, and while he was speak-
ing they were preparing a decoction of Indian tobacco by the fire. When
he ceased he took his place in the circle, and all of them now began to sip
and taste the tobacco, which seemed to be intended as a kind of mortifica-
tion of the flesh. Sitting along on the embankment, while the nauseous
mess was passing around in a basket, and others were tasting the boiled
leaves, they sought to mitigate the bitter dose with jokes and laughter.
One said, ‘‘Did you ever see the women gather tobacco for themselves ?”
This was intended as a jest, for no woman eyer touches the weed, but
nobody laughed at it. As the powerful emetic began to work out its
inevitable effect, one Indian after another arose from the circle and passed
slowly and silently out into the outer darkness, whence there presently
came up to our ears certain doleful and portentous sounds, painfully
familiar to people who have been at sea. After all the Indians in the circle,
except a few tough stomachs, had issued forth into the darkness and returned
to their places, about eleven o’clock, the herald went around as before,
making a third proclamation :
“Let all mourn and weep. O, weep for the dead. Think of the dead
body lying in the grave. We shall all die soon. We were a great people
once. We are weak and littlé now. Be sorrowful in your hearts. O, let
sorrow melt your hearts. Let your tears flow fast. We are all one people.
We are all friends. All our hearts are one heart.”
For the last hour or so the mourners and their more intimate friends
and sympathizers, mostly women, had been collecting in Kolomusnim’s
quarter, close behind the circle, and preparing their offerings. Occasionally
a long, solitary wail came up, trembling on the cold night-wind. At the
close of the third proclamation they began a death-dance, and the mourners
crowded promiscuously in a great, open booth, and held aloft in their hands
or on their heads, as they danced, the articles they intended to offer to the
memory of the departed. It was a splendid exhibition of barbaric gew-
gaws. Glittering necklaces of Haliotis and other rare marine shells; bits
of American tapestry; baskets of the finest workmanship, on which they
388 THE YOKUTS.
had toiled for months, perhaps for years, circled and furred with hundreds
of little quail-plumes, bespangled, scalloped, festooned, and embroidered
with beadery until there was scarcely place for the handling; plumes,
shawls, ete. Kolomusnim had a pretty plume of metallic-glistening ravens’
feathers in his hand. But the most remarkable article was a great plume,
nearly six feet long, shaped like a parasol slightly opened, mostly of ravens’
feathers, but containing rare and brilliant plumage from many birds of the
forest, topped with a smaller plume or kind of coronet, and lavishly bedecked
through all its length with bulbs, shell-clusters, cirelets of feathers, dangling
festoons—a magnificent bauble, towering far above all, with its glittering
spangles and nodding plume 6n plume contrasting so strangely with the
tattered and howling savages over whom it gorgeously swayed and flaunted.
Another woman had an image, rudely constructed of shawls and clothing,
to represent the dead woman, sister to Kolomusnim.
The beholding of all these things, some of which had belonged to the
departed, and the strong contagion of human sorrow, wrought the Indians
into a frenzy. Wildly they leaped and wailed; some flung themselves upon
the earth and beat their breasts. There were constant exhortations to grief.
Sloknich, sitting on the ground, poured forth burning and piercing words:
“We have all one heart. All our hearts bleed with yours. Our eyes weep
tears like a living spring. O, think of the poor, dead woman in the grave.”
Kolomusnim, a savage of a majestic presence, bating his garb, though a
hesitating orator, was so broken with grief that his few sobbing words
moved the listeners like a funeral knell. Beholding now and then a special
friend in the circle, he would run and fall upon his knees before him, bow
down his head to the earth, and give way to uncontrollable sorrow. Others
of the mourners would do the same, presenting to the friend’s gaze some
object which had belonged to the lamented woman. ‘The friend, if a man,
would pour forth long condolences; if a woman, she would receive the
mourner’s head in her hands, tenderly stroke down her hair, and unite her
tears and lamentations with her’s. Many an eye, both of men and women,
both of mourners and strangers, glistened in the flickering fire-light with
copious and genuine tears.
THE DANCE AT LAST BEGUN. 389
But amid all this heart-felt mourning there were occasional manifes-
tations of purely mechanical grief that were amusing. The venerable
Sloknich, though he was a gifted and thrilling orator, a savage Nestor, pre-
served a dry eye; but once in a while he would arise in his place and lift
up his voice in mourning like a sandhill-crane, then presently sit down and
calmly light a cigarette. After smoking two or three, he would stand up
and fire away again. Cigarettes were burning everywhere. An Indian
would take one out of his mouth and give a prolonged and dolorous bellow,
then take a few whiffs again.
Yet even these comical manifestations were so entirely in earnest that
nobody thought of laughing at the time; and though one’s sense of humor
could not but make silent note of them the while, they were greatly over-
borne by the outpouring of genuine, unmistakable grief. So far even from
smiling, one might, without being accused of sentimental weakness, have
dropped a tear at the spectacle of these poor wretches, weeping not more
perhaps for the loved and lost than over their own miserable and hapless
destiny of extermination.
These demonstrations continued a long time, a very long time, and I
began to be impatient again, believing that the principal occasion had
passed. It appeared afterward that they are compelled by their creed and
custom to prolong the proceedings until daylight ; hence this extreme delib-
eration.
But now, at last, about one o’clock in the morning, upon some pre-
concerted signal, there was a sudden and tumultuous rushing from all
quarters of the quadrangle, amid which the interpreter and myself were
almost borne down. For the first time during the night the women
appeared conspicuously on the scene, thronged into the sacred circle, and
quickly formed a ring close around the fire—a single circle of maidens,
facing inward. The whole multitude of the populous camp crowded about
them in confusion, jostling and struggling. A choir of male singers took
their position hard by and commenced the death-song, though they were
not audible except to the nearest listeners.
At the same instant the young women began their frightful dance,
390 THE YOKUTS.
which consisted of two leaps on each foot alternately, causing the body to
rock to and fro; and either hand was thrust out with the swaying, as if the
offering it held were about to be consigned to the flames, while the breath
was forced out with violence between the teeth, in regular cadence, with a
harsh and grinding sound of heh! The blaze of the sacred fire flamed redly
out between the bedies of the dancers, swaying in accord, while the dis-
heveled locks of the leaping hags wildly snapping in the night wind, the
blood-curdling rasp of their breath in concert, and the frightful ululations
and writhings of the mourners, conspired to produce a terrible effect. At
the sight of this weird, awful, and lurid spectacle, which was swung into
motion so suddenly, I felt all the blood creep and tingle in my veins, and
my eyes moisten with the tears of a nameless awe and terror. We were
beholding now, at last, the great dance for the dead.
All the long remainder of that frenzied night, from one o'clock to two,
to three, to four, to five, those women leaped in the maddening dance,
through smoke, and choking dust, and darkness, and glaring light, and cold,
and heat, amid the unceasing wail of the multitude, not knowing or heed-
ing aught else on earth. Once in five or ten minutes, when the choir com-
pleted a chorus, there was a pause of a few seconds; but no one moved
from her place for a moment. What wonder that only the strongest young
maidens were chosen for the duty! What wonder that the men avoided
this terrible ordeal!
About four o’clock, wearied, dinned, and benumbed with the cold of
the mountains, I crept away toa friendly blanket and sought to sleep. But
it was in vain, for still through the night-air were borne up to my ears the
far-off crooning, the ululations, and that slow-pulsing, horrid heh! of the
leaping witches, with all the distant voices, each-more distinct than when
heard nearer, of the mourning camp. The morning star drew itself far up
into the blue reaches of heaven, blinking in the cold, dry California air,
and still all the mournful riot of that Walpurgis-night went on.
Then slowly there was drawn over everything a soft curtain of oblivion;
the distant voices blended into one undistinguishable murmur, then died away
and were still; the mourning was ended; the dancers ceased because they
were weary.
RENEWAL OF THE DANCE IN THE MORNING. 391
For half an hour, perhaps, I slept. Then awaking suddenly I stood
up in my blankets and looked down upon the camp, now broadly flooded
by the level sun. It was silent as the grave. Even the unresting dogs
slept at last, and the Indian ponies ceased from browsing, and stood still
between the manzanita bushes to let the first sunshine warm and mellow
up their hides, on which the hair stood out straight. All that wonderful
night seemed like the phantasmagoria of a fevered dream. But before the
sun was three-quarters of an hour high that tireless herald was out again,
and going the rounds with a loud voice, to waken the heavy sleepers. In
a few minutes the whole camp was in motion; not one remained, though
many an eyelid moved like lead. The choir of singers took their places
promptly, squatting on the ground; and a great company of men and
women, bearing their offerings aloft, as before, joined in the same dance as
described, with the same hissing eh! only it was performed in a disorderly
rush-round, raising a great cloud of dust. Every five minutes, upon the
ceasing of the singers, all faced suddenly to the west, ran forward a few
paces, with a great clamor of mourning, and those in the front prostrated
themselves, and bowed down their faces to the earth, while others stretched
out their arms to the west, and piteously wrung them, with imploring cries,
as if beckoning the departed spirits to return, or waving them a last fare-
well. This is in accordance with their belief ina Happy Western Land.
Soon, upon the singers resuming, they all rose and joined again in the
tumultuous rush-round. This lasted about an hour; then all was ended for
that day, and the weary mourners betook themselves to their booths and
to sleep.
Perhaps the only feature that mars this wonderful exhibition, in a moral
point of view, is the fact that any mourner, when about to consign a funeral
plume or other ornament to the flames in honor of the dead, will accept
money for it from a by-stander (provided he is an Indian), if only enough
is offered. But they have scruples against selling objects on these occasions
to a white man.
At Kern Lake, there was a small tribe which I am at a loss where to
place in my classification. There are only a very few of them left, having
been removed to Tule River Reservation; and at this latter place I saw only
392 THE YOKUTS.
one old man who was able to give me, through a Spanish interpreter, his
numerals, but nothing more. Following are the ten numerals:
One. kil’-leh. Six. tukh’-tu.
Two. cho-yo’-chi. Seven. | po-ko’-i-chin-tin’-li,
Three. | u-yat'-si. Kight. | pus’-in-tin’-li.
Four. | chu’-i-chau. Nine. | hos’-che.
Five. loap’-chin-tin’-li. "|| Ten. chi’-wa.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
TRIBES RELATED TO THE PAL UVTI.
I have above intimated that there is a large infusion of Paiuti elements
in the lower end of the great California basin, arising from early invasions.
Among these tribes are the Pal-li-ga-wo-nap’ (from pal-up’, “stream”, and
e-ke’-wan, “‘large”) on Kern River; the Ti-pa-to-la’-pa on the South Fork
of the Kern; and the Wi-nan-gik’ on the North Fork. Another name for
the Tipatolapa was the Ku-chi-bich-i-wa-nap’ Pal-up’ (little stream). At
Bakersfield was a tribe called by the Yokuts, Pal-e’-um-mi. In the famous
Tahichapah Pass was a tribe called by themselves Ta-hi-cha-pa-han’-na;
by the Kern River Indians, Ta-hichp’; and by the Yokuts, K4-wi’-a-suh.
They are now extinct. The Kern River Indians were called by the Yokuts
of Fort Tejon, Pi-tan’-ni-suh; and the Indians at Kern Lake, Pal-wu’-nuh
(which denotes “down below”). On Kern River Slough are the Po-e’-lo;
at Kern River Falls, the To-mo’-la; on Posa Creek, the Be’-ku. On White
River there are no Indians, neither have there been any for many years,
owing to the prevalence of malaria; but there are indications that the lands
along this stream were once inhabited.
THE PAL-LI-GA-WO-NAP’.
As above stated, these Indians lived on Kern River; this one tribe
may stand for ail on the branches of this stream, and also for those formerly
occupying Posa Creek and White River. All the lower waters of the Kern
and of these other streams flow through a low malarious region which is
very unhealthy. It is related by the Indians that all the aborigines living
about Kern Lake perished in one year with the scourge of chills and fever.
The dwellers on Posa Creek and White River often suffered terribly from
the same disease, and finally, within- the American period, or very soon
393
394 TRIBES RELATED TO THE PATOTI.
before it, they all removed to a place called Whisky Flat, in the more
salubrious region of the foot-hills, from which they went down to their old
home only once a year, in the spring, to gather food-seeds.
The Palligawonap have the Paiuti custom of burying the dead. They
have no sweat-houses, but there are ruins of old ones in various places in
their domain, which were doubtless made there by the California Indians
proper, whom they expelled.
They live in wigwams made of tule, woven and matted into various
fashions. ‘Tule is also the material from which they construct a rude water-
craft. This is only about six feet in length, with the bow very long and
sharp-rounded, and the stern cut nearly square across; sides perpendicular;
a small tule keel running along the middle, dividing the bottom into two sides.
It will carry only one man, and he has to be very careful when standing
up to keep his feet one on each side of the keel, or the bobbing thing will
capsize. It is used principally in fishing, for which purpose they employ a
three-pronged gig pointed with bone. They show much more skill in
balancing themselves in the boat than they do in making it.
I saw only one of the tribe, named Chico, on the Tule River Reserva-
tion, and he presented the traditional physique of the Californian—very
dark-skinned, pudgy in stature, large cheek-bones, nose depressed at the
root, brachycephalic head, etc. He was a singular Indian, a real philoso-
pher; had traveled much over Southern California, Nevada, Utah, and
Arizona, broadening the range of his intellectual vision ; spoke English and
Spanish fluently, besides several Indian tongues; and was as full of curious,
quaint, barbaric superstitions, poetical conceits, common sense, and in-
flated egotism as an egg is of meat, though these various knowledges and
fancies were wofully mingled in his brain. I will attempt to give only a
few of his ideas.
Po-koh’, the Old Man, created the world. He was a being of a capa-
cious head, full of many and great thoughts, and in his voluminous blankets
he found room to carry about enough gifts for all men. He created every
separate tribe out of soil taken from the place where they now live; hence it
is that the Indian’s desire is so strong to live and die in his native place.
Pokoh intended that men should not wander and travel, but should be con-
SOME OF CHICO’S CURIOUS IDEAS. 395
tent in their birthplace. In the folds of his great blankets he carried around
an immense number of gifts, with which he endowed every man according
to his will, and every tribe according to his pleasure, with which gifts every
one ought to be content.
Long ago the sun was a man, and was bad, but the moon was good.
The sun’s rays are arrows, and he has a quiver full of them. These arrows
are deadly, for the sun wishes to kill all things. He gave an arrow to
every animal according to his power; to the lion the greatest; to the
grizzly bear the next, and so on, though no animal received an arrow that
would kill a man. . The man is lord of all.
The sun has two daughters (Venus and Mercury), and twenty men
kill them; but after fifty days they return to life again. °
The rainbow is the sister of Pokoh, and her breast is covered with
flowers. Other Indians say, whenever they see a rainbow, that at that very
hour some maiden has reached that first mysterious and momentous event
which marks her transition from girlhood to womanhood.
Lightning strikes the ground and fills the flints with fire, which is the
source of fire. A ‘California diamond” will be found wherever it strikes
the ground. Some say the beaver brought fire from the east, hauling it on
his broad, flat tail, and that is the reason why it has no hair on it to this day.
The carved stone mortars found in many parts of California were made
by a race of men that lived long ago. There is one book for the father,
and another for the son. Men pass away, and others come in their places.
There are many worlds, some that have passed, and some that are to
come. In one world the Indians all creep, in another they all walk, in
another they all fly, ete. They may even begin by swimming in the water
like fish; in the next, they may walk on four legs; in the next, on two,
ete. Other men may walk in this world, and in another crawl like a snake
or swim like afish. These are bad men.
THE SUN AND THE COYOTE.
A long time ago the coyote wanted to go to the sun. He asked Pokoh
the road, and he showed him. He went straight out on this road, and
traveled in it all day, but the sun went round, so that the coyote came back
396 TRIBES RELATED TO THE PAIUTI.
at night to the place where he started in the morning. The next morning
he asked Pokoh the road, and he showed him, but he traveled all day, and
came back at night to the same place again. But the third day he started
early, and went right out to the edge of the world and sat down on the
hole where the sun came up. While waiting for the sun he pointed with
his bow and arrow toward various places, as if he were about to shoot, and
pretended not to see the sun. When the sun came up he told the coyote
to get out of his way. But the coyote told him to go round, that it was his
road, and he would not get out of the way. But the sun came up under
him, and he had to hitch forward a little. After the sun came up a little
way it began to get hot on the coyote’s shoulder, and he spit on his paw
and rubbed his shoulder. Then he wanted to ride up with the sun, The
sun tried to persuade him not to do it, but he would go. So he got on, and
the sun started up a path in the sky which was marked off into steps like
a ladder, and as he went up he counted ‘one, two, three”, ete. Presently
the coyote got very thirsty, and he asked the sun for a drink of water. He
gave him an acorn-cup full, and the coyote asked him why he had no more.
Toward noon he got impatient. It was very hot, and the sun told him to
close his eyes. He did so, but opened them again, and so kept opening
and shutting them all the afternoon. At night, when the sun came down,
the coyote took hold of a tree, clambered off, and got down to the ground.
In this pathway of the sun, with steps like a ladder, there is undoubt-
edly a trace of an ancient zodiac myth. Some persons insist that the In-
dians must have learned this from the Mexicans or the early Jesuits. The
story is sufficiently poor, certainly, but such as it is it must be the inven-
tion of the Indians in everything except the one little particular of the
graded pathway, at any rate, for no civilized person would have conceived
such a fable. These critics, then, would leave the Indians everything but
this item; but this they would take away from them because it has a faint
suspicion of civilization about it! Such reasoning is contemptible.
THE MONO.
In their own language these Indians call themselves Nit’-ha. Why
the Spaniards named them Mono (monkeys) is not very clear. Although
MOUNTAINEERS—ONCE VIRTUOUS AND BRAVE. 397
rather an undersized race, they by no means justify the appellation, either
in appearance or in character, for they are a manly, warlike people, and
were anciently a great terror to the Yokuts. They are several shades
lighter than the latter; and with their raven-black hair worn quite down to
the shoulders, their smallish features, and their quick, suspicious eyes glanc-
ing out from under their great Spanish sombreros, they present a rather sin-
gular appearance. They still retain many of the simple virtues of a race of
hardy, honest mountaineers, and are mostly free from those brutish prac-
tices which disgrace the lowlanders. For years they resisted the inroads of
whisky, the great leveler which laid low their valley neighbors. ‘They are
a healthy people, and are said to be increasing ‘even now. ‘They do not
bathe the entire person daily, like the lowland tribes, but they sometimes
take sweat-baths, then run and plunge into cold water. Probably owing
largely to their isolated position they are exclusive, and refuse to intermarry
with other tribes.
The Mono are an offshoot of the Nevada Indians, and should be prop-
erly classified with them, but they have been so long on the western slope
of the Sierra, and acquired so many California habits and usages, that they
may be included here. Many years ago—it is impossible to ascertain how
long ago—they came over from Owen’s River Valley, and conquered for
themselves a territory on the upper reaches of the San Joaquin and King’s
River, the lower boundaries of which were indicated in the previous chapter.
They are not such a joyous race as the Californians, and have no
annual merry-makings, though they sometimes celebrate a good harvest of
acorns; and they think that a certain great being in the east, who is
nameless to them, must be propitiated at times with a grand hunt and a
feast following it, else there will be disease and bad luck in their camps.
Their business is with war, and fighting, and hunting; hence they have
more taciturnity, more stern immobility of feature, than the Californians.
It was they who introduced among the Yokuts, in recent years, the red
paint, the terrible emblem of war and bloodshed, which appears to have
been unused by the latter before that. They pursue and slay the grizzly
bear in single-handed combat, or in companies, with bows and arrows, but
598 TRIBES RELATED TO THE PAIUTI.
the Yokuts hold that animal in mortal terror, and refuse even to partake of
its flesh when slain.
The black eagle is sacred to them, and they never kill one, but they
pluck out the feathers of those that die, and wear them on their heads as
one of their most valuable ornaments.- When they succeed in capturing a
young one, after two weeks they have a great dance and jubilation around
it, then sell it to another village, that they may do likewise.
The California big tree is also in a manner sacred to them, and they
call it woh-woh'-nau, a word formed in imitation of the hoot of the owl,
which is the guardian spirit and deity of this great monarch of the forest.
It is productive of bad luck to fell this tree, or to mock or shoot the owl, or
even to shoot in his presence. Bethel states that they have often, in earlier
years, tried to persuade him not to cut them down—pity they could not
have succeeded !—and that when they see a teamster going along the road
with a wagon-load of lumber made from these trees, they will ery out after
him, and tell him the owl will visit him with evil luck.
The hunter who penetrates into the great forests of the high Sierra
sometimes notices a tree which looks scratched about the base. The Mono
account for this appearance in the following manner: Once in awhile the
erizzly bears assemble in a council, great and small together, and sit down
in a cirele in the forest with some huge Old Ephraim occupying the post of
honor as chairman. There they sit a long time, bolt upright on their tails,
in a silence as profound as that of a Quaker meeting. After awhile the old
chairman drops down on all-fours and goes to the tree, rears up and hugs
it with his fore-paws, and dances around it. After him the next largest one
takes his turn, then the next, and so on, down to the cubs. When a Mono
hunter sees them in a council thus, or perceives by the indications that they
have recently held one, he hastens home and notifies his companions of the
circumstance. ‘They consider that the bears hold these councils for the
purpose of making war on them, and for a certain number of days after the
discovery is made they carefully refrain from hunting the animals, or even
from firing off a gun where they would be likely to hear it, lest they should
enrage them. The younger Indians laugh at this story.
Subjoined are the numerals of some of those tribes, taken at the locali-
PALLIGAWONAP, MONO AND TAHICHAPA NUMERALS. 399
ties indicated. As the Tahichapahannah are extinct, I was obliged to pro-
cure their numerals from the Kern River Indians.
KERN RIVER. MILLERTON. TEJON PASS.
One. chich. si’-muh. . pau’-kap.
Two. wah. wo’-hat-tuh. wah.
Three. pai. pait. pa’-hai.
Four. na-naw’. wa -tsu-kit. wa -tsa.
Five. ma-hai-ching”’-a. ma/-lo-kit. ma-hats’.
. 1 . 5 7] . i .
Six. nap’ -pai. na’-vait. pa’-wa-hi.
Seven. noam’-chih. ta’-tsu-it. wats-ka-pi’-ea.
; a oy ; L Ros
Eight. na-pun-chine”-a. wa -su-it. wa-wat -sa.
AS) t . ts) / . 7]
Nine. la’-kih. kwa’-nu-kit. ma-ka-bi’-ka.
Ten. um-hai-ching’-a. se’-wa-nu. we -ma-hat.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
GENERAL FACTS.
It has been the melancholy fate of the California Indians to be more
vilified and less understood than any other of the American aborigines.
They. were once probably the most contented and happy race on the con-
tinent, in proportion to their capacities for enjoyment, and they have been
more miserably corrupted and destroyed than any other tribes within the
Union. They were certainly the most populous, and dwelt beneath the
most genial heavens, and amidst the most abundant natural productions,
and they were swept away with the most swift and cruel extermination.
Pity for the California Indian that he was not a Christian born, instead
of a “Gentile”, as the good God made him, for therefore he was written
down by the Jesuit padres near to the lowest levels of humanity, that the
more conspicuous might appear that self-sacrificing beneficence which reached
down to pluck him up to salvation. Pity for him that his purple-tinted
and snowy mountains were ribbed with silver and fat, with gold-dust, for
thereby he became to the American a vagabond thief and a liar, “ uncanny
and repulsive ”.
Pity for him that his shining valleys, lying warm and genial .
in the sun, were capable of making the greedy wheat-grower rich in seven
good harvests, for thereby he became to him “a mean, thieving, revengeful
scoundrel, far below the grade of the most indifferent white ”.
It is small concern to pioneer miners to know aught of the life-story,
customs, and ideas of a poor beggar who is so fatuously unwise as to com-
plain that they darken the water so he can no longer see to pierce the red-
fleshed salmon, and his women and children are crying for meat. And
when, persisting, he is shot down and lies stark and stiff in the arid gulch,
where the pitiless sun of California shakes above him the only winding-
400
DIFFICULT OF ACCESS—PHYSICAL CONDITION. 401
sheet that covers his bloody corpse, he is not prolific in narration of his
people’s legends and traditions. Dead men tell no tales.
Besides that, the California Indians, above all others, are a shy, foxy,
secretive race, who will not impart whatever information they possess until
confidence has been grounded on long acquaintance, and even then not
completely unless one shows sufficient regard for them to learn their lan-
guage. This singilar secretiveness has kept. the great body of the whites
in profound ignorance of their ideas, whatever they may have observed of
their customs.
The multitude of tongues is another serious obstacle. One may spend
years in acquiring an Indian tongue, then ride a half-day’s journey and find
himself adrift again. |
It is frequently difficult also to clear away the débris created by the
white man during twenty years and get down to the bed-rock of the old
tribal organization. So morally feeble and self-abnegative were they that
their tribes crumbled under the touch of the pale-face, and their members
were proud to group themselves about some prorhinent pioneer and call
themselves by his name. They frequently accounted it greater honor to
be called Bidwell’s Indians or Reading’s Indians, or so, than Wintin or
whatever the vernacular title might happen to be. Then, again, it is seldom
that a tribe call their neighbors by the name the latter themselves use; and
there are some tribes that have no name taken from their own language, as
they have adopted the one bestowed by their neighbors.
Physically considered the California Indians are superior to the Chi-
nese, at least to those brought over to America. There is no better proof
of this than the wages they receive for labor, for in a free and open market
like ours a thing will always eventually fetch what it is worth. Chinamen
on the railroad receive $1 a day and board themselves; Indians working
in gangs on public roads receive seventy-five cents a day, sometimes $1,
and their board, the whole equal to $1.25 or $1.50. But on the northern
ranches the Indian has $1.50 to $2 a day and his board, or $1 a day
when employed by the year. Farmers trust Indians with valuable teams
and complicated agricultural machinery far more than they do the Chinese.
And the Indian endures the hot and heavy work of the ranch better than
26 Po
402 GENERAL FACTS.
even the Canton Chinaman, who comes from a hot climate but wants an
umbrella over his head. The valley Indians are more willing to labor and
more moral now than the mountain Indians, because the latter have better
opportunities to hunt game and can pick up small change and old clothes
about the mining towns.
There is a common belief among the prejudiced and ignorant that the
Indian is such an enormous eater as to overbalance his superior value as a
laborer over-the Chinaman. This is untrue. It is the almost universal
testimony of men who have employed them and observed their habits to
any purpose, that when they first come in from the rancheria with their
stomachs distended from eating the innutritious aboriginal diet, for a day
or two they eat voraciously until they become sated on our richer food ;
and after that they consume no more than an American performing the
same labor.
I am inclined to attribute something of the mental weakness of the
California aborigines to the excessive amount of fish which they consumed
in their native state; also, perhaps, to the quantity of bitter acorns they
ate. It is generally accounted that fish is rich in brain-food, but it is an
indisputable fact that the grossest superstitions and lowest intellects in the
race are found along the sea-coast.
Another erroneous impression generally prevails among Americans as
to their physique, because they have seen only the wretched remnants of the
race, the inferior lowlanders, whereas the nobler and more valorous mount-
aineers were early cut off. On the Round Valley Reservation the Pit River
men wear shoes averaging five and six in size, the women two and three.
The Potter Valley men are, however, a little larger in the feet; their shoes
run from seven to ten, averaging eight and nine; the women of the same
tribe range from four to seven, averaging five and six. The men’s hands
are as small and handsome as their feet, and so are the women’s when
young, but the hard and unremitting toil of after-life makes their hands
grow large, coarse, and ugly.
Old pioneers, especially on the upper waters of the Trinity and the
higher foot-hills of the Sierra, have frequently spoken with enthusiasm of
giants they had seen in early days weighing one hundred and eighty, two
WHITE TEETH AND SWEET BREATH—EVILS OF CLOTHING. 403
hundred, even two hundred and fifty pounds ; tall, fine fellows, not gross,
but sinewy, magnificent specimens of free and fighting savagery. On the
other hand the desiccation of body in old age, especially in the women, is some-
thing phenomenal. In a wigwam near Temecula I have seen an aged man
who certainly would not have weighed over fifty pounds, so extraordinarily
was he wasted and shrunken. Many others have nearly equaled him. This
fact accounts for the repulsively wrinkled appearance of the aged, that
which has made them so odious in the eyes of superficial writers and the
fastidious tourists. There is probably no other race so excessively fat in
youth and so wasted in old age.
All of them emit an odor peculiar to themselves as that of the Chinese
is to them. Although they are filthy in their wigwams and in their apparel,
yet of the many hundreds I have seen there was not one who still observed
the aboriginal mode of life that had not white teeth and a sweet breath.
This is doubtless due to the fact that before they became civilized they ate
their food cold; when they drink hot coffee and eat hot bread they are liable
to toothache and offensive breath like ourselves.
There is another singular and apparently paradoxical fact connected with
their habits of body. Though they are so generally uncleanly about their
lodges and clothing, there is no nation, unless it was the ancient Romans,
who bathed oftener than they. ‘They were almost amphibious, and rival the
Kanakas yet in their capacity to endure prolonged submergence. They
had no clothing to put off and on, and they were always splashing in the
water. ‘They never neglected the morning bath, and many of them do not
to this day, though pestered with clothing.
And never since the fatal hour when Adam and Eve tied about them
the fig-leaves in Eden has clothing been a symbol so freighted with evil
portent as to these people. On excessively hot days they would lay off
the miserable rags of civilization which hampered and galled their free-
born limbs; and then would come colds, coughs, croups, quick consumption,
which swept them off by thousands.
It is a curious fact which has frequently come under my observation,
and has been abundantly confirmed by the pioneers, that among half-breed
children a decided majority are girls. There is a reason for this which
404 GENERAL FACTS.
would be a proper subject of explication in a medical work but not in these
pages. Suffice it to say that the Indian women thus chosen for wives were
generally the finest and most ambitious of their race, while their white
husbands were the lowest of theirs. 'The above-named fact certainly seems
to indicate that the California Indian is not without a certain aggressiveness
of vitality.
It has been said that the two cardinal tests of national greatness are
war and women—prowess in one and progress in the other. Tested by
this ordeal, the California Indians seem to fall short. They certaimly were
not a martial race, as is shown by the almost total absence of the shield,
and the extreme paucity of their warlike weapons, which consisted only of
bows and arrows, very rude spears, slings, and stones and clubs picked up
on the battle-field. It is unjust to them to compare their war record with
that of the Algonkins. Let it not be forgotten that these latter tribes
gained their reputation for valor, such as it is, through two long and bloody
centuries, wherein they contended, almost always in superior force, with
weak border settlements, hampered with families, and enfeebled by the
malarial fevers which always beset new openings in the forest. Let it be
remembered, on the other hand, that after the Republic had matured its
vast strength and developed its magnificent resources, it poured out hither
a hundred thousand of the picked young men of the nation, unincumbered
with women and children, armed with the deadliest steel weapons of mod-
ern invention, and animated with that fierce energy which the boundless
lust for gold inspired in the Americans, and pitted them against a race
reared in an indolent climate, and in a land where there was scarcely even
wood for weapons. They were, one might also say, burst into the air by
the suddenness and the fierceness of the onslaught. Never before in history
has a people been swept away with such terrible swiftness, or appalled into
utter and unwhispering silence forever and forever, as were the California
Indians by those hundred thousand of the best blood of the nation. They
were struck dumb; they crouched in terror close around the few garrisoned
forts; if they remained in their villages, and a party of miners came up,
they prostrated themselves and allowed them to trample on their bodies to
show how complete was their submission. Let a tribe complain that the
WAR AND WOMEN. 405
miners muddied their salmon-streams, or steal a few pack-mules, and in
twenty days there might not be a soul of them living.
It is not to this record that we should go to form any fair opinion of
the California Indians’ prowess, but rather back to those manuscript histo-
ries of the old Spaniards, every whit as brave and as adventurous as our-
selves, who for two generations battled so often and so gallantly, and were
so often disastrously beaten by ‘‘los bravos Indios,” as the devout chron-
iclers of the missions were forced against their wills to call them. The
pioneer Spaniards relate that at the first sight of horsemen they would flee
and conceal themselves in great terror; but this was an unaccustomed spec-
tacle, which might have appalled stouter hearts than theirs; and this fact is
not to be taken as a criterion of their courage. It is true also that their
battles among themselves, more especially among the lowlanders of the
interior—battles generally fought by appointment on the open plain—were
characterized by a great deal of shooting at long range, accompanied with
much voluble, Homeric cursing; but the brave mountaineers of the Coast
Range inflicted on the Spaniards many a sound beating. It is only neces-
sary to mention the names of Marin, Sonoma, Solano, Colorado, Quintin,
Calpello, and the stubborn fights of the Big Plains, around Blue Rock, at
Bloody Rock, on Eel River, and on the Middle Trinity, to recall to mem-
ory some heroic episodes
And it is much to the credit of the California Indians, and not at all to
be set down to the account of cowardice, that they did not indulge in that
fiendish cruelty of torture which the Algonkin races practiced on prison-
ers of war. They did not generally make slaves of female prisoners, but
destroyed them at once.
But if on the first count they must be allowed to rank rather inferior,
in the second, I think, they were superior to the Algonkin races, as also
to the Oregon Indians. For the very reason that they were not a martial
race, but rather peaceable, domestic, fond of social dances, and well pro-
visioned (for savages), they did not make such abject slaves of their women,
were far less addicted to polygamy (the Klamaths are monogamists), and
consequently shared the work of the squaws more than did the Atlantic
Indians. The husband always builds the lodge, catches all the fish and
406 GENERAL FACTS.
game and brings most of it home, and brings in a considerable portion of
the fuel. In a company of fifty-seven who passed through Healdsburgh,
there were twenty-four squaws riding on horseback and only three walking,
while there were thirteen braves riding and seventeen walking. The young
boy is never taught to pierce his mother’s flesh with an arrow to show him
his superiority over her, as among the Apaches and Iroquois; though he
afterward slays his wife or mother-in-law, if angry, with very little com-
punction. But there is one fact more significant than any other, and that
is the almost universal prevalence, under various forms, of a kind of secret
league among the men, and the practice of diabolical orgies, for the purpose
of terrorizing the women into obedience. It shows how they were contin-
ually struggling up toward equality, and what desperate expedients their
lords were compelled to resort to to keep them in due subjection.
The total absence of barbarous and bloody initiations of young men
into secret societies was a good feature of their life. They show sufficient
capacity to endure prolonged and terrible self-imposed penances or ordeals,
but these seldom take any other form than fasting, and that principally
among the northern tribes. In their liability to intense religious frenzy, or
rather, perhaps, a mere nervous exaltation and exhaustion, resulting from
thei passionate devotion to the dance, they equal the African races. The
same religious bent of mind reveals itself in the strange, crooning chants
which they intone while gambling.
As they were not a race of warriors, so they were not a race of hunt-
ers. They have extremely few weapons of the chase, but develop extraor-
dinary ingenuity in making a multitude of snares, traps, ete. At least
four-fifths of their diet was derived from the vegetable kingdom.
If there is one great and fatal weakness in the California Indians, it is
their lack of breadth and strength of character ; hence their incapacity to
organize wide-reaching, powerful federative governments. They are infi-
nitely cunning, shrewd, selfish, intriguing; but they are quite lacking in
grasp, in vigor, and boldness. Since they have mingled with Americans
they have developed a Chinese imitativeness, and they take rapidly to the
small uses of civilization; but they have no large force, no inventiveness.
Their history is painfully deficient in mighty captains and great orators.
QUICKNESS OF IMITATION—GOOD NATURE. ADT
But I venture the assertion that no Indians on the continent have learned
to copy after civilization im so short a time. I will give a few instances.
Shasta I'rank, a Wintiin, born and bred to savagery, was a perfect gentle-
man in the neatness and elegance of his dress, in his manners, and in his
speech. For instance, having inadvertently said “setting”, he instantly
corrected himself with “sitting”. He gave me a brief account of his lan-
guage, which delighted me by its accuracy, clearness, and philosophic
insight. I was told of another Wintiin who had become a book-keeper and
was drawing a good salary as such. Matilda, a Modok woman, living in the
wildest regions of the frontier, showed me a portfolio of sketches, made by
herself with a common pencil upon letter-envelopes and such casual scraps
of paper, which were really remarkable for their correctness. She would
strike off, at first sight, an American, an Englishman, a German, a China-
man, or any odd and eccentric face she happened to see, with a fidelity and
expressiveness that were quite amusing. If she had ever had any advan-
tages, she would have been heard of in the art-world. ‘The pioneers
acknowledge that they speedily acquire a subtileness of cheating in card-
playing which outwits even themselves, and would have done honor to the
‘heathen Chinee”. Again, it is the testimony of the reservation agents
that the Indian children pick up simple Sunday-school melodies and the
like with the facility of the plantation pickaninny down South.
There is a curious feature of aboriginal character, which is manifested
more particularly in their games. An Indian seems to be very little cha-
grined by defeat. I have often watched young men and boys, both in
native and American games, and have never failed to remark that singu-
larly lymphatic good-nature with which everything is carricd forward.
American boys will contend strenuously, and even fight, for nice points in
the game, down toa finger’s breadth in the position of a marble; but Indian
youths are gayly indifferent, jolly, easy, and never quarrel. They appear
to be just as well pleased and they laugh just as heartily when beaten as
when victorious. Everything goes on with a limp and jelly-like hilarity,
which makes it extremely stupid to an American to watch their contests very
long. When engaged in an athletic game, it is true, they exert themselves
to their utmost, and accomplish truly wonderful feats of agility and bottom;
408 GENERAL FACTS.
Lut they do all this purely for the physical enjoyment and the satisfaction
of the animal spirits, not for the joy of conquest at all, so far as anybody
can perceive. They never brag, never exult.
An Indian will gamble twenty hours at a sitting, losing piece after
piece of his property, to his last shirt, which he takes off, hands to the win-
ner, and emerges naked as he was born; yet he exhibits no concern; he
passes through it all, and comes out with the same gay and reckless stoi-
cism. There is not a tremor in his voice, not a muscle quivers, his face
never blanches; when he takes off the shirt, his laugh is just as vacuously
cheerful and untainted with bitterness as it was when he commenced. He
borrows another, throws himself on his face, and in five minutes he sleeps
the untroubled, dreamless sleep of an infant. It is difficult for a white man
to comprehend how one can be so absorbed in the process and so indiffer-
ent to the result. .
There is another notable defect in their character, that is their lack cf
poetry, of romance. Though a very joyous and blithe-hearted race, they
are patient, plodding, and prosaic to a degree. This is shown in their
names, personal and geographical, the great majority of which mean
nothing at all, and when they do have a signification it is of the plainest
kind. The burden of their whole traditional literature consists of petty
fables about animals, though some of these display a quaint humor and an
aptness that would not do discredit to sop. And it must always be borne
in mind that they are forbidden by their religious ideas to speak of the dead,
which fact may account for the almost total lack of human legends.
There is not even enough poetry in them to make them tawdry in dress.
There is hope of gaudy savages who are thoroughly wasteful and
thoroughly devoted to beauty, as they understand it. But these are not
wasteful enough even to have feasts, that is, downright, gluttonous ‘‘feeds”.
Their feasts, such as they are, are not held for the purpose of eating, pure
and simple; they merely carry to a common rendezvous a store of pro-
visions a little better than the every-day allowance, which they endeavor to
make hold out as long as possible, in order that they may enjoy the dance
for many days, which is the one great object of desire, while the feast is
secondary. Food is gambled away recklessly, but not thrown away,
BARBARIANS GOING TO WORK—HUMOR. 409
though civilized men and women are apt to consider their prodigal hos-
pitality as little better than sheer wastefulness All Indians are “cousins”
when they come to a camp hungry.
I have said that they are not tawdry in their dress. Young Indians
who have mingled with the whites a few years show uniform good taste in
their dress, especially in the northern counties; and even old Indians are
never seen with those grotesque medleys of all conceivable objects, pepper-
casters, patent-medicine labels, oyster-cans, and the like, heaped about
their necks, such as may be seen in the interior of the continent.
Mention was made above of their ready adaptation of themselves to
the uses of civilization. Who would ever have seen an Algonkin brave
offer to go to work for his conquerors? In 1850~51, before the Indians of
the Sacramento Valley had any knowledge whatever of civilization, an
adventurous pioneer went to the Upper Sacramento and commenced chop-
ping wood on the banks, for which he received $16 a cord. Sometimes it
was necessary to carry the wood a few rods to cord it up close to the water,
and he had no trouble in getting Indians to do this work for him for a
pittance of flour and bacon. The headman of the village, distinguished
only by a feather or a green sprig in his hair, would lay three or four sticks
on the back of each squaw or brave, to the number of thirty or forty, then
take a stick himself, and with great importance and gravity march with
the procession to the river.
There are not lacking instances which show that the California Indians
have a sense of humor that the grave, taciturn Iroquois did not possess.
The Nishinam of Bear River have several cant or slang names for the
Americans, which they use among themselves with great glee. One is the
word boh, “road”, hence, perhaps, derivatively, “‘road-maker” or “roadster”,
which they apply to us in a humorous sense, because we make so many
roads, which to the light-footed Indians seem very absurd, indeed. Another
is ka'-kim, ‘‘spirit”, which is given in compliment to the subtle and myste-
rious power the American possesses of doing many things beyond their
comprehension. Perhaps as common an appellation as any is chu'-pup,
“red” or “red-faced”. Here we have a reversal of the traditional ‘“Pale-
face” of the eastern dime-novel. _But.the most humorous name they give
410 GENERAL FACDS.
us, and the one which amuses them most, is wéhah, which is formed from
the ‘‘whoa-haw” that they heard the early immigrants use so much in
driving their oxen. Let an Indiantsee an American coming up the road,
and cry out to his fellows, ‘There comes a wéhah!” at the same time
swinging his arm as if driving oxen, and it will produce convulsive laughter.
At Healdsburgh they call a locomotive toot-toot-toot. A Chinaman is called
by the Nishinam, chd-li-i, which means “shaved head”. There are other
names which they apply to us, which are very amusing, but they will not
bear translation. ;
Felicitously characteristic of one feature of Indian life, as well as
humorous within itself, was the remark of an observing old man, “Injun
make a little fire and set close to him; white man make a big fire and set
way off.” :
Frequently their humor is of the kind that may be called unconscious,
and is none the less pleasing on that account. One day I applied to an
Indian for certain information, and he began to give me the desired names
in “American”. I interrupted him, and told him I wanted him to talk
Indian talk. At that he pulled a black, scowling face, and said, ‘Guess
mebbe bimeby all white man want to learn to talk Injin talk.” To any
one knowing the peculiar relations which exist between many whites and
the aborigines, the satire of this remark is delightful.
They are great thieves, whenever it is safe to be so. Like ill-mannered
white people, to use the mildest phrasing, they are fond of borrowing small
articles, knives, pipes, pencils, and the like, which they will presently insert
into their pockets, hoping the owner may forget to ask for them. One
means of protection which old pioneers advised me to take, was, in journey-
ing anywhither, always to keep at my tongue’s end the names of several
prominent citizens of the vicinity, to impress the savages with the belief
that I was well acquainted there, had plenty of friends, and ample means
of redress if they did me any wrong. They are strongly attached to their
homes, and they have learned by tough experience that if they commit any
thievery it will be the worse for them, and that it will go hard but the
whites will burn their rancherias and requite the stealing double. Hence
they are proverbially honest in their own neighborhood; but a stranger in
AVARICE, INGRATITUDE, AND REVENGE. Ail
the gates who seems to be friendless may lose the very blankets off him in
the night. They resemble the fox, which never steals near its nest.
. The northern tribes are much the most miserly and given to hoarding
treasure, and none of them do a white man the smallest service without
expecting payment. For instance, Ta’-kho Kol’-li, chief of the Ta-ta-ten’,
refused to count ten in his language unless I paid him for the service in ad-
vance. Once I was sitting with three stalwart and sinister-looking Yurok
on a rugged promontory, waiting for the tide to ebb; and when lunch-time
arrived we fell to—they on their dried smelt, I on some sandwiches. They
had no claim on me, and therefore asked for nothing; but presently I com-
menced talking with one about Indian matters, and in an instant the crafty
savage perceived the drift, saw he had established a claim, and said, ‘* Me
talk you Injun talk, you give me piece of bread and meat.” No Indian in
Southern California ever thought of driving such petty bargains as this.
White men who have had dealings with Indians, in conversation with me
have often bitterly accused them of ingratitude. ‘Do everything in your
power for an Indian,” they say, “and he will accept it all as a matter of
course; but for the slightest service you require of him he will demand
pay.” These men do not enter into the Indian’s ideas. This “ingratitude”
is really an unconscious compliment to our power. The savage feels,
vaguely, the unapproachable elevation on which the American stands above
him. He feels that we had much and he had little, and we took away from
him even his little. In his view giving does not impoverish us, nor withhold-
ing enrich us. Gratitude is a sentiment not in place between master and
slave; it is a sentiment for equals. The Indians are grateful to one another.
Sambo did not feel that he was stealing when he took his owner’s chickens ;
it is very much so with the Indian.
Though not by any means a warlike people, and therefore generally
laying very little stress on the taking of scalps, they have the usual treach-
ery, revengefulness, and capacity for rancorous hate of allsavages. I have
before me as I write a terrible memento, and-one that opens up a dark and
bloody picture of savage life. It is only a stone, a longish stone, rudely
blocked out to be made into a pestle, with which a Nishinam woman beat
out her sister's brains, while the husband of the murderess looked on.
But, worse still, a niece of the murdered woman, in addition to this cunt,
412 GENERAL FACTS.
lost at various times her mother, a cousin, and a brother, all cut off in cold-
blooded murder by her own tribe, and that before they became acquainted
with the Americans, and while they were living in ‘“ primitive innocence”.
It is not pleasant to think of these things, and they dispel whole volumes
of the romantic nonsense written about aboriginal Arcadias. Still, we must
not judge savages by our standard, but bear always in mind that revenge
is taught to them as a virtue from the baby-basket to the grave, and that
anything which will secure the getting of that revenge is justifiable.
Notwithstanding all that has been said to the contrary by false friends
and weak, maundering philanthropists, the California Indians are a grossly
licentious race. None more so, perhaps. There is no word in all their lan-
guages that I have examined which has the meaning of “mercenary pros-
titute”, because such a creature is unknown to them; but among the un-
married of both sexes there is very little or no restraint; and this freedom
is so much a matter of course that there is no reproach attaching to it, so
that their young women are notable for their modest and innocent de-
meanor. This very modesty of outward deportment has deceived the hasty
glance of many travelers. But what their conduct really is, is shown by
the Argus-eyed surveillance to which women are subjected. If a married
woman is seen even walking in the forest with another man than her hus-
band she is chastised by him. vise “i Se ot ee eh nts ‘Ye
7 > ae | be oly » diy Foe ay : AA f
i : ede f ! : : ras ; e Sint
>. a= , ‘
: hats Pas :
Pi fir »
Cr a) é ’ % * ois . »
i
ee +
7 i
‘
5 .
; :
* >
.
> ' al
‘
_
i
-
‘ a
‘ *
’ v om
ie * 4
h
. :
‘ *
'S '
= , i
.
:
; ‘ : :
U]
) i
ve
‘
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
In a majority of the following vocabularies, the Smithsonian alphabet
has been used; and where it has not, the fact has been noted. For con-
venience of reference, the following is inserted from Smithsonian Publi-
cations, No. 160, ‘‘ Instructions for Research relative to the Ethnology and
Philology of America, by Geo. Gibbs”.
ORTHOGRAPHY.
It is, of course, essential to the proper understanding by others of the
words collected, especially in view of general comparisons, that a precise
and fixed system of spelling should be used, and this is more so where the
usual language of the collector is English than where French or Spanish,
as there is far less certainty in the pronunciation of the first than of these
last. In English, for instance, four different sounds are given as belonging
to the letter a, viz, those in far, fall, fat, fate. As regards the simple vow-
els, the difficulty can be partly remedied by employing the Spanish or
Italian sounds, as given below, and a further advantage will be found in
separating the words into syllables, and marking the principal one with an
accent, thus: Da-ko’-ta. There are, however, in every language, sounds
peculiar to itself, and the different Indian tongues abound in them, many
being almost beyond our capacity to imitate and certainly to write, without
some addition to the ordinary alphabet. Various systems, contemplating a
universal alphabet, or one applicable to all languages, have been devised,
each having its peculiar merits; but the great difficulty, never fully over-
come, has been to represent intelligibly such unfamiliar sounds without
443
444 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
confusing the inquirer with new characters or numerous marks, or, again,
by employing several letters to represent a single sound. The alphabet
here recommended for adoption, without pretending to remedy these defects,
will at least prove an assistance to the collector in the field. Should it be
necessary to represent other sounds, not included below, it will be better
for him to adopt some arbitrary mark of his own, describing fully its value
or meaning.
VOWELS.
as long in father, and short in German hat (nearly as in English awat).
Eas long in they (“‘long a” in face), short in met.
1 as long in marine, short in pin.
o as long in go, short in home, whole (as generally pronounced in the
Northern States).
u as long in rule (00 in fool), short in full (00 in good). U as in union,
pure, &e.; to be written yu.
A as inall (aw, au, in bawl, taught).
a as in fat.
wu —_as in but (0 in love, oo in blood).
Alas in aisle (“long 7” in pine).
AU as ow in now, ou in loud.
The distinction of long and short vowels to be noted, as far as possi-
ble, by the division into syllables, joining a following consonant to a short
vowel, and leaving the vowel open if long. Where this is insufficient, or
where greater distinctness is desirable, a horizontal mark above, to indicate
a long vowel, a curved mark a short one, thus: @, a, @, @é, &e. A nasal syl-
lable, like those found so commonly in French, to be marked by an index,
n, at the upper right-hand corner of the vowel; thus, 0”, a’, a", uw”, will rep-
resent the sounds of the French on, an or en, in, and un, respectively.
CONSONANTS.
Bas in English blab.
not to be used excepting in the compound ch; write k for the hard
sound, s for the soft.
Leo]
GH
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 445
as in English did.
as in English jife.
as in English gig, never for the soft sound, as in ginger; for this use
always ).
as in English how, hoe, handle.
as in English judge.
as in English kick.
as in English lull.
as in English mémice.
as in English noon.
as in English pipe.
not to be used; for gu write hw.
as in English rear.
as in English sauce.
as in English tight.
as in English vow.
as in English wayward.
not to be used; write is or gz, according to the sound, in wax, example.
as in English you, year.
as in English zeal, buzz.
as ng in English singing.
as in English shall, shoe.
as 2 in azure, s in fusion.
as in English church.
as in English thin, truth.
as th in the, with.
a surd guttural aspirate, the German ch in ach, loch, buch, and sometimes
approaching that in ich, recht, biicher.
a sonant guttural aspirate (Arabic ghain); other compounds, like the
clucks occurring in T’sinuk, &c., to be represented by Ai, tkl, tlk,
&c., according to their analysis.
es i ae
ugh eels. eae er
oS Rua ge hl
; % ; a ae selene ee
4 1
Ss, cr r pe» & vie ; SD mu
Zz ; a v = &, - : hil
a ‘ ’ » -) 4,4 6 A a a oe
4 ‘7 vy " i Sete We Susteey |
Ps ¥ : : 2 ; ; im
ae = a " y ‘ i if
in i a A 3 eke hs!
ars ni: A
=
—_ P 4 .
oe - ’
' t ae
= s i
- 7 > a r . ‘
7 J
a
¥ \
Ate 4
’ i
ee i
‘ i { ~
e 7
7 “ 1 ; :
.
KA’-ROK FAMILY.
1.—Ka'-rok.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at Scott's Bar, California, in 1872, from
Pa-chi’-ta, a chief. The Smithsonian alphabet is used.
2.—Arra-arra.
Obtained by Lieut. George Crook on the Klamath River, California, and is
No. 398, Smithsonian Collections. It was transliterated by Mr. George
Gibbs, in No. 358, and the Smithsonian alphabet used. The latter
number is here given.
3.—Arra-arra. .
Obtained by Mr. George Gibbs. It is Nos. 359, 401, and 403, Smithson-
ian Collections. No. 401 has been used here, as it was written in the
Smithsonian alphabet.
4.—Peh’-tsik.
Obtained by Lieut. Edw. Ross, who says it is the language of the Upper
Klamath, from the Indians of Red Cap’s Bar. His spelling has not
been changed. It is No 318, Smithsonian Collections.
5.—h-nek.
Obtained by George Gibbs, and published in Schoolcraft, Part IIT, page 440,
from which it has been taken; the orthography is not changed. On
page 422 of that volume, Mr. Gibbs says that “‘ Ehnek is the name of a
band at the mouth of the Salmon or Quoratem River [California]. This
latter name may perhaps be considered as proper to give to the family,
should it be held one. The language reaches from Bluff Creek, the
upper boundary of the Pohlik, to about Clear Creek, thirty or forty
miles above the Salmon; varying, however, somewhat from point to
point. On the Salmon, it is said by some to extend to the sources; by
others, only to the forks. The name of Peh-tsik, ‘above’, is the term
by which the collective tribe is known by the lower Indians.”
447
448
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
ooaonrtriaoawrtrka wore
15
Ka'-rok Family.
English.
1. Ka/-rok.
2. Arra-arra.
Father
Mothers ssseeee eee
My husband
My wife
Son ..
ing erdweeecte se scenes sevice ee
Thumb
a/-wans
LAM Wesorecacea ca asooscg6 cscn
mu-kis!-ta ose <..-5252 sees csex
t= OV cromin coe eae
/
yu-up
MAU NS Seo eeeo bocce cance naeac
i} A
ap/-man
4-van-shé
os-sik-t4-vin
batatutsi-- eee =steee as
NG-Ni-a-VAN eset e ante yess
MuU-Nar-v sos soc eee ae eee
O-mMan-wutl-sur. ose. eee eee
Mi-OL-LO Meee eek see eee
MO=bi-Paseeseee- rane == eee
me-kaks-trint-.-1- cere eee
NU=AI=18 2 ences se cee eee
MU=NOl-VAaly sess)cisiee le se eee
MEMEO sasese oboe, cossossece
mu-tu’-vi
mu-yup
mu-yi-fui
mup-man - -.
mu-pri
6p-mer-okh’-no ...--.------ ----
mu-vup
a/-thrakh .------- Fawebceemasete
mukh=pikhysestea= ses saeest==ee
Iii peoes eoeacecese cece EDO calles scoece sesocs ssossneSeece senscs 48-SiSh=VOE-T4---<---2-2-24) .>--
Female breasts .... --.-.----nl'- Boeoo DOBECcIOCeSoS bac Boe escd|lsacamscc beso onea Saeiceadeesodasc
IBGE pa seco Soko cena pcos ocered|-asocaepeatorace oso ensaSsao Slee MUP-SDilee wea ee ieee
HOG ties =m eianie ees ee eloe iter WS Boeecoc soto csne Wasore ances MES Ne UG oe Soosss coosce Ss
WG ee eee oseo Ronee noe Bead) Sencon eso] sa --Sccoc--4.sore tsocco|lbneeca.ce ao ceodibece pecs cosSucsase
JST) 356505 Sones Gand ose oSed bos bes Sato cannes ooSacd oseses S56 MO=Wi -pils- oe et eet ee aereeee
JEN yi es edsco Goa eeecaaeg o-cal pomneaoedsooseo csaces Ese teas accellhe Sb sbecadaccer ace eeneaceneeaee
Blood essere sare sce eeele BEEREeE cere bersoes ecccocssocccs|| (MON Nandsapas seco e sose osoass
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
3. Arra-arra.
a-VOUS ....-.-
kus-tin, nan-nits ...-..-..---
ATTACATTbe soci co 2 se cacess ce |
17 Pt Beeaeecaacmacoaccr aes
WER oS Soa een Saree Rn oceSoee
WE Me cece Stn ac He Sea OpEOUan EE
YUL Wil Vil ae oases ane a
SA id Vee, oes a er
Misrakliw tio s22accosceeee
O-bIA¥O) Se Scie eae sone
tik-an-ne-kum.......--
i-hup-kutsh -.....-..-.
M-GHUS aces ope conee es waceeaae
MRD PSU le sorte amr are cies
fe WIG-BEs eee ose shea set Soe
Ka'-rok Family.
449
4. Peh’-tsik.
5. Eb-nek.
yeh-nee-pah
yuk-shee-tah-niteh.....-...----
a-rak-a-housh
you-pe, yupe-e’
youf-wee-ve
Mehi-peekwee sieccsasnce scenes =
WS-VaRalyasccisons oo sele sae seee
tip-shee
FisS!-OG42 stew eee a ieowsc cen cecce
ValtisWaesesiseasease easels
ab-huk-noi-ram.....--. ..-.----
ah-rahe= S222 s)sees-deses Prete see:
ak-houtsh-houtsh
im-we-yah’
abk ..
kir-ee!-vi-ra
Re Sv ow Ct or or io on
ecenraunrFr Wwe o
cr
©
69
~
—_
22
m CO
a STens SCS bias tats Jo
soouaqan aw
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Ka'-rok Family.
English. 1. Ka’/-rok.
win-tap’
Axe; hatchet << --- osecscece=|ons2c----re--2-1~-ne Ren SOeInO SoG
Knife
shnu’-to
shnu-da-kech-u/-kis -. ..-..----
do paooSe Caeneaacss 655005 PRS=SET) ccc ec cmee wereesi=-==
Teeaasceses ada: wbobaca camel basco wacerceceeswatas orsele oyeeee
Hill, mountain
Stone, rock
2. Arra-arra. ‘
Ghd Hi Werecan pnecos posers Core
mo-her-ra
no-ni-4-vik-um
ku-u'-sur-ra,
i-kar-rom-kc-iis-sur-re..---..--.-
i-ki-we-mi-ya
kish=snanl=senccsseee --ooeene
has-em-chaikh-chaikh-ti-.-...-.-.
pOs-sor-ri
takh
a-ko-kre. .
AUERON=Th 2s omnis ce eee at
yu-rus (salt) -.... .--2.2---- o---
yu-rus
SIM=S1M = ..c ciate
\WGisaooes se sac68s sSehocede|) deste tse cot Sosseceeeinson cesses no-v4-ko-v4-von ......--.------
AUR Sacre aoe costae cae ne ecal cence cobs cslaceeeciens see cee cewel UROSVillal Ges oa eee stam e siete ae
VIM) Seacine socdcdsd esacvcoss| |Soots neues ce Scce cece oars poses Ok-Kidi ois. sfaoce esse eeeeie ates
INGE Sie GOSS aE epesacs Sa45|spaucoomen cosa booed choSbo co sdan|P TSAR AEG Mines teee dsceosac
PRET Oia se sean sa ee Sere | eels reais e cee ainiaonamelevere crete mtoeiee
UMGNG = coascedonesass Gs te|/cksbos coco caoohacnecon dasens De55 IIc
HGS By yi Oe ee ees IAA ERA SS Be Repo S CO OCDE COCO mond lboSh O-Dh RHeeb asa aobo bash cosS.ccoe
MGUSGIG EN, ec Senco co Sce cae ce| pStbee HHasoo deco es SSE So SsoSSiSe|| TED bce cee tides sese sone teiecds
MO=MOLLOW. cassie os eescicwan masa clseciceccicesocectseccivceaee e@=-MAni seen nese a eeonciencecies
Wes": otek SsadeSsscccssces|sacaeosesicceccsleess sesceceesecse| MOMs raccse costes oaceeeaneac
INWEsass-eccuseacns omec. acing) | Sab poo eeobocbocanconnsscoe badass Pu-har-racsssseseeaeeeensae ees
TOE) Scopose aden cesta nd cu||s.c6 cents Brio Seseee abossacason Kkwi-tak oo. sce sscomeseceeee
IMA Ccece oo coo soroboonoc| [sco soe cbecro coos cocedsncdscencdel| (Di escocéooscestcoobocn oes ees
LING) ~~ sone goconomemBet coos) (sr cocbds cbesapocambes oss dscns LIPERE TY Noncoiocac CooSernpeSebocte
IS) o eh bse aelsicno oocy nomena nc shosco nag concco ooboed aaca.cboosda|) AAR MEIER opsts ccc tiocos esse
REM Gtic Saocoo code BanaSascstliancs, BEES nonconebocacdssace Hscces hok-in-i!-vi-ka <2 2222-0. -se=5" ==
IOS ergo ncisco saad Sones] |-ooocodsacas co. pan esdo So sseodsed kwi-rik-in-i/-vi-ka......-...-.-
NING 22-2 esese senna se sen eal pace eanecec emesis saan =e =e ere as) CLO D-Cnt1s Ben eee eeeen meet
TON soo one moteene- sese ede odal-cenieceniamcctens te eeispes seine se MU POT Mie tte nar anetee near
MJeVeN schoo meee ce ee eee ns faeries FE SSAC SECO sonkiso thrai-yur-kur-ra-is-sa .-.------.
Wwelve:--s-cnchaayecectes-|ecoeteee eee seiner soroserres t/hrai-yur-kur-ra-Akh-hak ..---.
POOUBSERSHODEH Re aand becscd debe ocosn toccsnnsoosohoecoe ha-ka-t/hrai-yur ....... --..----
SEIN? Bechon ceo capo ceOoE| Secbas pebncSaSccceda Ssdeko cdot. kwi-rik-i-v’hrai-yur ..-.--------
Oneyhundred asses waccesse ee eseees see a cse onan) eeeree ea eeeee thrai-yur-kur-ra-t’hrai-yur. .--.
HUM Gs paBodk co cdcobonoe5-e ORAM eee tems eee eee POEs tecpebosScne Daas: assed
Tosa rink eens ote seers oe eee | Ul IS nee ne eats een anice ae ate eae k’nu-shascssscseepeecias oan ie ae
wt
CO
3. Arra-arra.
Gre oWaNseesect sn sence eeee
LM ee acon peceesise = aieeteate
asa socoscns Sods od seGcc
AUS OTN 55 pooo obese onse casclss
Paley Oreeaae eats aaa
at-rup......
lewi-rak-a-f/hrai.-.~-....--.. <<||.
yis-si-pikh-es.....--......-..
ta-knigh he 2b sas see one oe
ta-knish’-he eaa-O TES CSBS CCE
=| hOb-Ke-hokinr sascctases s- eee a
S| iuarak ee oe.
4] ESR Ne s55 sceosoeagace Hadoos
-| te-rouh-put-is-she-ham .-.......
MPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Ka'-rok Family.
4. Peh’-tsik. 5. Eh-nek.
ee eee eae wees wees teen eee séscbeec||seSecenccessbeccos seo86o 55 eee
tu-shoo-pacese ene ccines) se
im-man
PIU Ne seks seen eode
[Rolit sana nk eacdescponeace
TERRE Beee.cnc> eoooobod canoe nsec
BECKS eee erate peehs -.-
kke-reeh=wik-lWs t2Seres <7 oteseieaee
kuk-in-eev-ik-ih ....-......----
kui-ruk-in-eev-ik-ib....---..-..
trah
OVE oe ocesenaases sesccao|| MN aces | Sacosinecseeeeso ase
hooh’n
456
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Ka'-rok Family.
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
+
English. 1. Ka/-rok.
NO; BLGAIE =e ecenmooele csr Gemiew sivaieletiee eis
IWIN) SS3ese,.ccos shad oscn66r
DIO Ny @cosdacocaha Saoneasc
Dik-ieat! vy ec ee eee eee
tan-ni-eh!s. se5e0 cess cess ect
2. Arra-arra.
UkeKI-Veb=Ple eae cos scsecteceeicees
hap=pishati= ewes aeeleece
0-pok-o-u-vit ~...---......-----
hen=ek=VUeteneeyeeaeer eee ieee
$O0-N1-MS ssa See nnw ce eee eee
Uh = VaTeri-s Wl Perro a-vs aes siete
CHO=ATHATOR tec oasis: ae eetee cere eee
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIRBS. ~
3. Arra-arra.
Ka'-rok Family.
4. Peh’-tsik.
5. Eh-nek.
PANT NGL) ose odes ooor been CoReoS
Wah-nik< macara ad aciscreartemac sian
tu-ru-pish-a-reeva .... .-.--.--
pah-kou-reeva ..--.----.--.---
ten-eh-ku-weet .....----------
tchupe-ahee se eereesmeanee
tee-ken-e-mushe ......-......--
PCHA-Ta CHIN “KO foe sefoss leona | eis alsa comcnienta Sas) cession cies =
Chim-misnes2-- wesc seetemce
CCHAL-TED keseisaist=is\='s]alo=lstecis =
bCHON-ME=V.Acp a ae onl ate se let
tenak-n-eetei:- 5.02 ecenccceees
tCHO PO sees la ac et sSe als science
ken-i-woosh-ti.......-..--.--
tan-m-kir-eesh.... ..-..2...-.
V-wi-yah-tees. 22/5522 522 cee
oshou-antss-csese coe case ses
Ouk-nahteressso- seas eee
457
Be ee ee
Se eS SY
an k ww Ww
i
458 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Ka'-rok Fgmily.
English. 2. Arra-arra. English. 2. Arra-arra.
Above (up stream)..| ka-rak, . Downilnll 22s. 22. mas-ah-riik,
INOUE N SS sscetensocor sun-taup. Enemy ..--..---..--] ni-vans.
IACTOSS 9 ease ses ieene se-ar’-uk, Eyebrow ....-.-.... yup-i-pi.
Alike. = 22-=-.2--=-+2) k-e-u. Hiyelash<2--26.2--.. yup-ab-ta-ri.
ATK eie ase eases eee ah-shak. Wat .-.4--- tehim-me-ko-yah’.
Blanket ....-..----- ma-kai-e-vash (any woollen || Gun..-.-..----.---- ik-ha-reh-va ma-kiish-kam
stuff). (white man’s bow).
Boards ae assests an. Gunpowder. ....-.-. am-kif. |
lOeRGl asses hses sas shra-ra. 13 bese ecoRoco cost wai-at.
Break (v.) .----.---- tos-pa-to. Handsome ..-.--- .--- yaum-mich.
Breech-clout (wo- | ya-fis. Hard)s 5-5-2222 5-0) (Salkeris
man’s). Hereafter ....-. .... auh-my-kee.
ISjy Hye (MB) secean cose ku-ne-vi-eh’. ISR Ay oApoAo Hc soes ten-a-ho’-ra.
Brook ..-.-- saocrese sam-wa-ru. Hurt or sore ..---. -- ko-hi-te.
Buttons ............ han-in-tin. Jest or joke....--.-- pig-shai.
Bye and bye -.-. --..- ko-ma-tus. KMne@eecssseseeaes pas-ak.
(ON) scoonSearnns 665 up-hon. Leggings ...----.... ma-kai-a-wash.
Childs jen eee a-rum. Light (of the sun)..| tom-chuch-ha.
Comb ees-socesees- ip-ta-haup-te. Listen (v.)...--.---- pu’-ya.
Copulate (v.) -..---. ku-sa. JOO 2 eeemetee ete a-chuch.
Cord or rope..-.---. an. Look at (v.) ....---.] i-na-mus.
Country. -s-er ene sivi-s-an. Look here (imp.)-.---| yuch-ha.
(Oi cacesrsescrascsce ash-hip. Make scmcerteeencas to-pik’-e-a.
Demoniac --— ioe o-pi-ru-van. Me)... couse seeee as enals
Die) sss cesee tu-ee'-vi. Metals epee shim-shim.
Dinueeeeeee seer cee ah-gwah. Mypae acts BAOTORROCEY ni-ni.
Moi) sasceencctes -- wit-ka. (NaVelicieceesce ncn -& ah-rup.
Don’t (imp.) ..------| hai-faht. Nothing, none ..---. pu-ra-fat’/ ta.
Down ariver .....-.. yu-ruk. Oak-tree.. 2... <-.~ 7 a-han-sip.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 459
Ka'-rok Family.
English. English. 2. Arra-arra.
pu-wu-i.
te-ish.
up-ku-ru.
o-ke-ruk.
se-in.
mu.
a-ge’,
-| e-hé-ra.
im-pa’.
wis.
Understand as-se-tim.
Understand (not to)-.| pun-as-se-tim.
Up a river ka/-ruk.
neh-ki-vi-te. Up a hill ma-rik.
Small (in quantity).| chum-its. fat, fat-ko.
heh-a-chitsh. hau-i.
Squirrel (gray) a‘-ro (sciurus fossor). shim-shim-tah, up-hau-tin-
Squirrel (ground). --.| ach-sa (arctomys beecheyi). ni.
tosh-ha-ra.
YU ROK SE ANTE:
1.—Al-i-kwa.
Obtained by Mr. George Gibbs at the forks of the Trinity and Klamath
Rivers, California, in 1852. It is Nos. 853 (1), 400, and 402 of the
Smithsonian Collections, and is much longer than that obtained by
him in 1851. It conforms to the Smithsonian orthography.
2.—Al-i-kwa.
Obtained by Mr. George Gibbs at the junction of the Trinity River with
the Klamath, California, in 1851. It has been published in School-
craft, Part iii, p. 440, under the name of Weits-pek. On page 422 of
that volume, Mr. Gibbs says Weits-pek is “the name of the principal band
on the Klamath, at the junction of the Trinity. This language prevails
from a few miles above that point to the coast, but does not extend far
from the river on either side. The constant recurrence of the letter r
in this and the other languages of this district will be at once noticed
as a distinction from the Oregon tongues. In many words and proper
names it is sounded with a distinct and forcible roll. The f#, however,
another shibboleth to the Oregonians, is unknown here also.” It was
transliterated by Mr. Gibbs, in No. 353 (2) of the Smithsonian Collec-
tions, into the Smithsonian alphabet. That copy is here given.
3.—K Tamath:
Obtained by Asst. Surg. Thomas F. Azpell, U.S. A., while at Camp Gaston,
Hoopa Valley, California, August, 1870. Dr. Azpell says the true
name of the tribe speaking this dialect is Sa-ag-its. The orthography
conforms to the original.
4.— Yu'-rok.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers on the Hoopa reservation, California, in
1875, ‘‘from a very intelligent Indian, who was, I believe, the only
Yurok on the reservation.” The Smithsonian alphabet has been used.
460
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 461
5.—A-i-kwa.
Obtained by Lieut. (now General) George Crook on the Klamath River,
California. It is No. 397 of the Smithsonian Collections, and was
by Mr. George Gibbs rewritten (No. 355) to conform to the Smith-
sonian mode of spelling. The latter has been used here.
6.— Yu'-rok.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at Waitspek, California, in 1872, from
Salmon Billy. The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
462
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yi 20 Family.
oeonmnant aun & Ww wo
Fee ee
B&O WO KF ©
15
-
ce ~
(Sy
fo)
mown wr ww Ww W
im 6
~
English. , 1. Al-i-kwa. 2. Al-i-kwa.
Man ‘scistuncoter os cieee Sueeee pespulhs lade seuss ates se eee ens PPM lekereer= ames meee opseeee
WOE S6ceshe chscs5 ccaerase Win Oh eee etna NW GS Use elem aotee ae stewie see
BOYic sno oeeeeeeeeroe ees MA-WOLKN were 4] MMOLKN=pelacsssacteseae cee eere ME/=PCLiCN enone ce elese see aaa
ING seep boos don aoonoa sean] [bsclede copesancseoninsacco.ccan chee PH Ad Wl. ceeecoany conosco Dota eee
INT SScas0 essa ccensas5 45 WOL-SHO) jo cea lose olseeeesfeinie= ae MeSH. cameos seo sae eas eae
Handieee=seat= : Wit-se!-WuUrsh--\-~--.csss-- woo ~=- tai-wuosh:\< «-=2 24
well-loolh ....--.--..-- meal! ee sees eases Yi) Lt Sc sey esoded. Gass me-lu-thel........-..} 25
MGR) fleas soomuonene mep'-chel..-.-- -. ----.. Mipth eee ees == -ea- (4 |) Mop-Chl hin. --acjse = 26
werkh-belkh ..-..-.-2. Muah pel Mee=eeeese ee awenth=pitless sae s-ctee || see en en nee eae es eee,
00-mare-pets .-...----- humrh/-purh ...-..---. WEIR TE TE e545 ceneos| lsceoae cocbrs Cao acneSer 28
00-pakh-toon ..---..... hu-pa’-tiit ............. (ee eo6 Gag cas00d| ssoga5 sosese esoaacaase 29
WESS-SENy sates senses mes-sen!..-.--- Reweterent WES ASSs 8 poChGOdead| MeSEe ors Saco uscacseten 3U
wit-say-werse -....-... tse-wass! .........-... UME EI Gian soas secs 55| laebeeo cascceiocadcs a6ec 31
wit-say-werse .....-.-- LSO=WaASG lo cisictenis oz oie tcher-wers- .----....-. Al hess ageoe coos Oaeeae 32
G0-plét-fainco---.,.2- 2, TAG Nap esSeScos 5 eas eoa| (doce neea Gaa6 RoccauSS Sa] (Saco SHed Sosa Sone cESeeE) | 33)
neh-welkh-ket-air .. ..-. Welkth-Kebt=bOM=wsecte.o=| Wilt KUb-EAa nae alnniocmee|anelaceseraans cos - 2-5).
nek-wenkh ....2-.3.-=<: u-wais'-kwil-...-:...-. O-N = Wi Pala a eens eeancteaaecerenar= seta = cts 35
nek-wenkh ...... See OKO ee ete oe tiee |e aeaiasaa tens aselesacnsl| ae ee ease alocies seems == 36
DY VON eae ee el | RW AL ONE anes ante oe aeee |e omens capeisiccine oeiesalscite csee esccies-oceaS nies 7
NED-NA-O) seca ane aa= == WARN GWEN ae ele ais | memento eet fate ae ters reiarel| Seicek nine oeeaia ssc ererte,- 38
464 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yu'-rok Family.
English. 1. Al-i-kwa. 2. Al-i-kwa.
AON PPOOt s- e- cae rieee tose eee | Webs han pmek-ur ease = eee Mets-kG!s Sake s Soe ose
QD ed Roc Popes ADO o. Seo Dono aC oes Sse eoecao ane cabana bocoiseccose re-wun/-na, wel-kiit -.-.....--
Pil | Beto lseSacoce coeoco OAT IeDOses| snare osssce Doren Adicesonendcose wel-ke/s: Shee Sees orders sa sy cee
43) |PReartic.csc.c.ssectacec sa cct aca |poosieeee Pelyeisioemloe ce ween tees toheks:3222-o sce eee cea ae HNepeic
AAS WBLOOG Senter awcisore oslo sete aon teeta ears ea aeieceetoae eater UNG Be Serioscree Hea Siascoan castes
45) ROW, VAIS RC se cowie sala sisi = ale] hesjemetnsr eset aaleioe atest ten-a, ot-blum-mi ...--. .....-..
AGul Chiehe 2 Sone conve cteemince ese NSICAS-) Mees ~ saciatoeainie Seer | PAI abi 1 a eee ee ae ee
AT NANI OF rea se piantentaaieeeeteoe leases) a Sate sese osustdeson Goods ||ocdeen nose HBoodoscHesco es 6005s
48" EI CN eoRe's cicansnsy c= eeteataie al ae cbeeie = wee an eee e eects Meee ai’-e-kwel s22.25 52/2 s<-2 cece:
AON TH OUSe ze = 2s /siemissainc.e = osteo hOb-HLOMaMI) sees Ges waeeonttee ot/-blunt-mommes- se seeaseseee
BOY Kettle... Josten csetee see ctelitaee peg-a-mip, ha-kwits.-......----. kai’-um-me ...--.--- sasests aces
Oe BOW rsemercnytea silence cece! SHNWAESIES oni eine eens e ies isis emakih-tate scans ceieeewiceerer
DOMIEATTONWiarsstaltackels meteniociangecieae Dore sie otc cece sacs, eee teeter Mallow htc mamate te escent e eos
53 | Axe, hat Gi Sas ceauncsacacn turk-tork @-s om seesiee seissonee tukh-tulssas. coe ascetics
Oda eKife eee ceeyer eee seesciee eee (SERS NIlS) ocoee besos boose6 obs SESS tocinn Secs GoOoe aaoeC
SOF |b CANOCY an make ee coeeiaten ee VOUS macinbe ee OnE o oS cuopeE bes |) Min) oaen S-Re cease Sodhadcaaded
56) |e Moccasininaseuem tenses ieee DMB) cya isle cepatereraie ole ey ateral ay chal | MLE =D ty ota fe ery creat
OM ul MEIpOL seer seeleiseeee warceccses Toe WUS ves ae aciceeeaeieeate meee ral-wkh jc 2 es See cte eae es
SG [RODE CCOnm eager eerie se LOE REA Seee nen eene couabomec se: halen bjs. eae seer
DONA Slsyeserioe cisions ote see gr cttcte| sees cece ee cere cece cee cece [ieee ee cee cee cee eee eee eee ee
GON Sone eoemeneee cies aeran rae ae Widmer enn eaecc me tactad secuece WA-NUSH=1 0. wae eee tetera
GL) | P Moon... 5 Soe). a setweciccacleus ©ctell etete aie lowe miarereicie a slates ei my sere eel olf Oeste eer een cea
G2u MS bane oe see ca on see too HSE NG ce Seco beobe coer asocce Nha-vets esse aoe eee eee
(ASH IDE formeleoee seoc on cc aSceRonocs | WO mePURTEl = Geescacess esonnooess POS Ne ee Rene sso OE beer
Gas Ni eh trees -cmelecccemaccs sleet TSO ie aSR oe oaeeooness sone cob. HEI TEU) eee Seeros too reoss
GaSe Bue) veWeker oe ee RRS ocoocoopen lasonosias cameo bere PE bdcueSecines. Kket-nallslig ss see anee ene seers
Gi WON Oenee hed Bes eoe cocoa poaa pans sence conse podche ab sonsso50 a: ket=i-a/Snshis ee ae seeiee eae en
GTN Spring .5. o 22. ances ae Soe ce stl eeasce Coen faeces Nm gne ease oct ae ree eee ae ee ee ee
@s})]| wb ES ce pasoseoenoUsco Geer [gts eae erisecond oseesoceE ase te-ON-Oltl isa oseree nes eee eeeteeee
694) MugaMN SF — s ctcie wane Soo) cont ese athese oan eosin see siseinems esac emcee See Sees soe eee eee :
On| Winitor’: saeeete. one oS ae THE airial Asoebe oebo5 eoese manles
LS | PWAN Geo ate cols sain tie eel sarees) Saas eae Ien eS ae Secee erase nace
7.) UNTO Tecan acon bess Sac wet-le-g4-kun
fot Lightning « <.< sc -..ccctseeccd | Ponce coe as- sale mae secicenseces 24 | secmeenn seats ce siee einen nese
VANBROLN = S52 onc ccee coaetae ase ten-pawh
(Gon | POO aaam aciscestss cmon sei sea NOM MNAN wSonnnangad sodoss baeisoS
(Gene sei 2's 3 ot os ieepee seieee eee MOUS <)eaeia sel ss eee eae eee
Of || \WeniSb= sob aGocs.cgee doescacca: UG RGAE mas. oneimce yo asen tos Jae [A ecsoas Goad ose2 sees sosesce
the} || WO cack Scns Hoes cooonosaaces Sketllpe ese oe Sota ee eee |S KCL eee seteete = eee ete ae ties
795) arth and! oa eter
Rivereccsses ane as MAP nce San Gaoees ceecosmaces Pardue ceocsweeeeaye a ecieeceteeee
1 ee eeaaee em eeSeneeeebel badacn code soncands sacGHe ascocundab dca faosc0 cae che cool as bose tose
WEEN a seeo Gone Seiseee Sabe paccse ccosososuacosamans costscss WSR ognesa coqasacseocoose5
Deh ROEM See. See ones) los enecooseg o—seoa Baeeos 2ec eno ss tehu-lukh, o-mek-wa-..---.----
TBE ee seco Senses see 5 eds | ScostenosotSos Sosa ccesesesascass 0-me-kwull - 25-2. conees oe ==
Stone rock eo scee-- coe =poee halal pe seae ste sececcce eee haea-raneso+- a2 o-5 eee ees
SHMtiso nsoogiocones sogerssses WER RM: copeec ssos ceeese gpsetecs ENE anID Gan ooo os=so0 sa5=06
ironseese se Senpeee ne oeee peg-a-Mip ....----...---..---.. pap a-Mu poses caees ee eee
IOS thts apes seco cce eens deus |Ss05R cosas bococees cated cosees|iaoenc.cooadasace csantn cgs6 tenes
DUGG gee sen caeeso Bas6.cuCads | lsibecanseccs pocisoss canoes waste helhe/=WOM sa. tees asineaee
Wiis ooeeas seomeensokcoo||bScsecdas -soesc bonbSc.acccsa cdaecs WU=KOMS telecine eee
WERHE se oSaononabaancooneGos | lbenaec aacioce o5cese adecra ssossnes Wal-Ke-lOis=- “classics ston eeeianae
Barks ttcpetates, cos cncisc os sence Race ccleaeee oe ce oe eens jhal-nie-n0 ss-e a. cress ostee se sae
(GEE Cn peeeco Raeceteeen coo] |deeoee comemo na mestoeSaeoosesas= mash-chur-rok ..-.-<. <.....----
JE (sheene Susbae So5Sa6 Coos booeanpeedsccnadeeetdsons dssasa|bo td Hosea arotioosossasec ssc
MAES WCE isgance sanose coed| Seonad boo oods ccaoss Seseed osesnd [soon eoh4 cnoseciododco Seessasoeser
ID WYO: anne se Gsansokecean aces GIVE EO seen seseee aeton.douaoe GhishGeccdescaeasenectereecieees
Bear 2 -s-2 eceeee =e a= e oe ato 9 wa nn erie rine ele che/-ar (black), nek’-witch
(grizzly). ‘
Vill! saeeco cesses ceacceccod||coecus seocHoconsaaco cosecu cane pH Woaaan! Goch chat doo coddSenescos
10) to teo nos pose bes son cacs | (esc Boooeubodaoo specs cscecd Shao||Soos= -Ga550 4ekbeed sasSeeote some.
IDR hae Ses cecqnueeooeseese EI Ses osodoe Canned e500 S05 POkstiles.52 22 nae Jeseases soe eee
BMc. Specie oisiaaicssSstcese me=wikhle =~ cecece ices cieee meewitli tos. = Setew we eeseestoee
Beaver -<- <-. se sce- 2-2 cece e= = ances m= mann = =m nnn ese ne’-ye-mut .... .----. -----e~- --
TMM Dh NR se ceme cobactscd||SsocRs sheng oSeccs eoecaa dace Sése||sase nocd easosn Hoc onooosee. SoScs
Lay ea) (cies eccoe Casein ee eae) demoed o paspos taecneOo LEDS Sopa ndad| seotao basete cqactden thaarausacee
18 Wye Ci paeeege cack ec ce node wau-gi chish-eh (white man’s |........-------..----- a saeco
dog).
17 ceneos Coco cmaE eer eoeons| dered eae 65 26co Cacees Gacbao DSed| |seecoancSos cecos Scud. cabs soesec
INGE LNA) Gactso Soe oobecd||Seecee a6 5ecco cscs sess csesccesee||booess gecaco esos nea seedootesese
Snakesssesncsecs sos se sine Me-yOl-punyh a= acerca ae ae Wied) Maes cacas see aS eSS200
Rattlesnake ....--...----.- BEE e roo mer CES cB anbae teases lescSoscs] - so hossodeeesencoesScs
BiG So5n Gaon Sciseno estan: loo ssogacodes déucea cbocesasoseecs BHUG-O1e Gees teeee eee ele
OIe aes EES OEOG Gace Bae Saal gout, .o55b6 onc Soe cedatc chad bodecs loa soso cb coodaddomaaneSuodses pS6s
ea thers nsec ee eee Mel RN egos eeeaeibaedsoaenecnce TOtHa ieee] oases eee
\WWARIEE) soho ccocne ceticeseaed|[bsse cons coro teobosdess BEA e Red Harr | eoboeoaic cee tere coridcances sosacs
GO080! 25 occ coco ~c noss wecelowceme oer Sena nicc se aats eee noe | pare cee oatee eee ee ere aeees
Duck (mallard)............ Ca-KOSNe eo seises scene tecieateee MUK=tOShy ese -eneleeeae
Le es cons oo snes Soe ~A54) [sd ones SS OCRO CONS SU SDH Io 20 Sete Casd|[ones ceoSsu. sees boas erdeseso Geos o+
HON pep eenosacs oSascesc5o|(saancs sS506a 4000 spaces soneUd oeb= Skowatileosos tee saeeeenes a eer
Salona ssecteaae ales MEW ssaascodas = coosouasaS coos MER NN) Se soe ee aos sSsossoes Bocas
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yu'-rok Family.
467
3. Kamath.
4. Yu'-rok.
5. Al-i-kwa.
werh-quits .---=- -.2.¢
Ka-AD emcee eates sass
deb-baws!--5- 222-224
VO0-OO0kgeter =e -teaee nore
neg-gawk
tseer-ory
WUT-OCURB\- Sons. os ono ssc
BO0-00 kates aes
may-wilkh .....-..----
ne-po-as-nekh
her-kweh
esh-koh
moo-lah) =. - == ..-0
IBN 55555 5p40n00ctan acme IDEAS Choon ScoendS cososccshs Kke=wi0-Vnkge ee aeepaeeieteneeitoe
ING wacaes 55 sGncd Cosa UD0SS° pak-olsapesceeee east be mimi HPHUCEM EN AY sossaeoEscoos 2550h0 =
Mightjblneyss-seeres-l- === pal ENG! 258 So oes cone coserr NS Rees oseenocaomos copeor sanssbossescoshens =95-
1 Cy Jee EEE eens a Gese cece case Snes nor aaa cone cadl|Bsac a adoned cus sosadesaco san058
UNI Pee ROSE IC Som annette pane soem sdse.ccan saao Spoboonea cos4| bdeet sosaacodaaaconnadiassesoss0r
ARIE oboe cose somescad Sonal) sodas doocoo norco scekot srionnass WO Seuss cio se eens eeere
Westerdaypee=-eiecessesisiasee ishme=ye “Muse emehoetles amie seeer she syenl.-ca-)-4-te sete ee
MO-IMOLLOW, 22 se ace ene es MEN (OS BAe pene Goud codaDosssSsc B=W7 O ke p aie ee sete eae teeter
WG Senccausdoabestéomec coed esses dcddereddsdae qaaraose ds NE soe soca one map coho lonoeesoecccactoscaosqeccs: waesce
ALWONGY: ) == safest -lemte oe = oi] PN O=WRTSD-A-Wi0N-)= w viel serine eae See ee lee aa ae ee
ABtbyR poaseeS cadet sea Pees Saneoacos snoeadobcooseecno ascaoo leads cdadce phen datosteseeca asses
RORbY oe ale emcee niente eiioul| sso cele miewiee. ots ais cent veiainn =[oatainea| pmaelee eel see ee oe ee eee eee
Bitty on oo Se cere doo 5 Sse erene c | asco mins Saleen ce cats e sie sienna! eemame ececiest= el inee eee eee
RSP ir seis.) Ber ECHO E SOC Ses Gel EEGOnOSoSS BOObH0 bocSagoneecc nme actor See dcessoeetade kdisceeemme
DEMeWh~ooec ors cs oncHeseacs Pee eas Pes eee SOBER OS CSGc Sty so daco COoAO pods SedigGoocesarooESS
THEM Sa SR Conese 50 Dace Asoo bocce Gaasas Caceae radars oo 5|losasbsccéoccSscsocaaso coosscccst
VW ONINObYl. «oar csnie nes Sen) cajetseul| aise e Sisemsee/ nets Satin Se Seale aoe eeamec eee sti ceetooeseeee ee
Onejhundredise2-- ---0 ease wursh-a-wur, ke-tchi wursh-a- |-....---...---..------ ---=------
Ir wur.
@Qne thousand. .
Ball-play ---. ..---.-----
Band for the hair (far). .
Basket (anysmall vessel).
Basket(storing provision)
Basket (pot)..-----..---
Basket (dish)...--...-. A
Basket (cap forthe head).
Basket (load or packing) -
Basket (mortar) --.....-
Basket (reticule) ......-
Basket (scoop). ---..--.-
Basket(enp))s-s.-- >=
Bass (aris astuta) ...--..
Bay-tree and nut .......
Behind tasa= eee eee
Below (down-stream) ...
Blauket/-2ss----see eo
Bosom (woman’s) -....-..
Braceleteoscs-.- es sasce-
Breech-clout (woman’s) -
IBTIN (>) secatan sae es
Bubterthy eens sees
IB WihONS eases eee ae
a-kwel’h.
poi.
in-ik.
k’net-keh.
wai-a-wet-seh.
wehtl’-per.
kret-she.
nak-witsh.
pa-tekw.
keh-map, mo-i.
poi-ko.
er-ker.
keh-woi.
pek-kwan,
per-chigsh.
wau-mitl.
kai-a-men-et-ka.
ger-kitl.
wauch-kel-luch.
e-nersh-er-er,
wai-yeh.
poh’-lik.
ook-wah, kah-kan.
wau-ah’w.
win-nai-wuch.
aut-sersh.
pop-sho.
wai-kwehl.
moh-chihl.
nu-klus.
werp.
tchep-tchep.
ko/-ye.
er-ker.
hau-lo.
taks-us.
not-peh’-e-wus.
English. 1. Al-i-kwa.
Congarsesee= snes eee knu-wotl.
Demon ....-........-.-.|.0-mah’-ha,
Different 7-454 42-- eae koili.
Doxessseass5 ee oeeee hah-kau.
Won bjesssoee eae pas.
Early (little sun) -...... skina, wau-ush-leh.
IU aren Bocesé nes Joaes au-mo-ni-perh.
nou g hesen\oseacieaeiees to-wa.
Far (a long way)..-...-- ten-a, lai-ooks,
NIGER Sonos ose eeod once a-kwel’h.
He Wireseaatese=seeeee ee ski-nah.
Hind {(@:) /seeceeeoee saeeae hak-spo.
Bish-neb. 2-5 seston ne ais ap.
Hish=weir.otcse.eceeeae to!-ci.
Figures (embroidered or| ah’-tem-er, ter-urks.
woven on baskets).
Flour of acorns ......-.. weh-nipl.
Fox (small gray)--.-.-.--. wer-grersh.
Game of sticks (bandy) .} wauk-cho.
Game of ball..--.. ...... wehtl-per.
Gives cesses oo see sees nah-tchus.
Goloutr. 32s ssesesccee noks-pur.
Good-byeess---e eens enee teho'-ho.
Gunsi2o seco enon too: prerh-sherh.
Gunpowder. ........-... mer-ah.
ISIE? Gaara oscaro aseo eae mah’-gin.
Hard jrese sce seats tenes suk-ke.
Here) 355 ee.sc saree sees
Hereafter’ 22-2 -- --s---.- koh/-yé.
Horn of an animal ...... wer-sherts.
How Many) -<- hecece aes ae se-rats’.
Remember (v.) .---.---- tek-to-eh.
Right (all right) ....--.. sko-yeh.
Roadie onos-crsaseers oe lai-aks.
Oper aases ee nieae Sere
1. ALi-kwa.
herp-kwer, bak-sitsh.
Same (the) ..-.--......- wai-tu.
Seat (a bench).......-.-. na-ko.
SEL cesacecoacedcnosce|| Hie:
Sells) Reeancseateceee sos PROILS:
Shirt (cotton).-....---.- shlek-wa.
Shirt (woollen) -......-. per-kerk-wer-shun.
IO) Sonora coche cece Boos he-goi-yotl.
Skinvancs-ceesecceeectee ka-aut.
Small in quantity ...-.-.. ski-nab.
NOON seeseeeeee sees eee koh’-yah.
STOW hebsdon Sooscnssoce hé-gon-cha.
Steal) (v:)s22-2-s2<0.<-00 o-k w6/-ma-hech
Sugar (of the pine) ---. -| rep’-chim.
Sweat-house......-..--- a-gark’,
Siwimi()/Soceesen-aeae= wer-o’-ruk,
Tattooing ..........--- pauk-kersh.
ThE sascssss taceaeh one yah-kwa.
Tired. .22<5-2ssss-sser hi’-men’-al-la.
Starecso25<-4esosse oes mo/-noh.
DByiics2ssccee.csooeees as-seh.
ING NT Ss osospeseqsco9 hi/-meh,
Momingeceeeeeneseee hi’-meh-ta/-shis,
Venn gees seater: hi’-mok.
SYOHUONS & oom SoondS AES kish-u-ma/-chi.
Sammer=s5---)30--e.- a-hen-ma’-chi.
Antumnicesece a-eeser no-ma/-chi.
Winteten ss a=-nfeas oo as-sn/-ti.
Wind @ceaeesseceastsere i-kos’-si-wa.
hinders eee ebi-mu/-mu-ta.
Bichtinin ges -sseesaae hich-kes-cl-sel’-ta.
Rainy o- 205g sesciese 7/-tak-ta.
Snow, -.\---.---. -.==---|)b1-pu-eh.
Ib eee SesoaorsooeonS a/-puh.
Wratersoo-s-sae-0r as a’-ka.
|e ae aan Cone SE Cancel | thee we
Earth, land .7...-...-... a’ ma.
Hesiae2osccstece oe a/-ka-che’-ta.
hu-no’-i-ni (Trinity River).
chi’-ta-ha.
476 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Chim-a-ri'-ko Family.
English. Chim-a-ri’-ko. Chim-a-ri/-ko.
Wallleyieeccees ee eeeties mai’-chi-cham. Mellow) acecce-aeeeee hi/-mam-tsit.
Hill, mountain..-..-.-. 4/-wih. || Light-green ........... hi/-mam-sit.
lishhiintil oho coooasonce a-chin’-ko-koh. Great, large ...-...-.- che’-ut.
Stone;rock)2sesccsm-= ka-ah’. Small, little --2------= hai’-eh.
SallGice-eonseeaesecieees| a -kD. Strong seeeceeeeeeiace= cho-pukh‘-tah.
Tron’ see. esses ese cbes-el’-li Oldteeeseneo ee eeetisees ha-ha-win’/-ta.
Forest....-.-...-.-.--| 4-wak-te’-up-tut. NOunphececttasea-cee == a-ma-ni‘-ti-ta.
Tre@iasesecs ecoenasece a’-tsa. : Goodieties=-eseee ee hi-si’-ta.
AGW ill oacso.cebcoscses pu’-su-ah. Badveousestestece eae a ho-li’-ta.
Weafi-2- 5 <5 so2.ne eee] ba-hal’wi. Dead |e scasascncss sees kai’-i-tah.
Barkines ease see cee =| pbl-pa-chi. Alives...c52<%2os0~ ....| kaikh/-ku-nut.
Grass\oes-fenecicesseee | kO-chuh. Cold'iecsserneneesccce es-s0-ta.
PinGresiee ee eiseeeiesee ie |p DO;-sul. Warm, hoteese= ss ee el-lo’-ta.
MaizOr-e a sceemace= cess si-i’-rah, Ts hocens eee no-dt’.
Flesh, meat...........| a-ah’. Thou sisnsssenrecuoese ce ma-mot’,
Wor sos alee ete = si-chel’ la. HO) sje cecistcice saeceees||) Pasmobie
Beat aes sc ncceecte acct chi-sam/-rha. MhiGsessee-oe, tae dehieees pa/-mut.
Wolfsvscsa- en ccasiecee si’-chi-wi. edlhisetieceretset ee ereee pun.
WON se eer atato = eisreictete s hau/-ra. INlensmeds capecacceece ku-mi-chin’.
WEOr)s caee eee eee a-ah’. | Many, much.......... hu-ta’-li-put.
Wk sss saekiceieestscne se a-a-nok’, \WNGT aaesascaanosccee ko’-mas.
Rabbit, hare......--.. e-mo-hol -la. 1 pee Aen cacerr Danes i-chu’-ma-put.
Wl ynwatssssee sence cons mo-so-che’. Near sees —-eeete aoe kal’-la-put.
Mosquitomes-=seessee mo-sot/-wa. 1B igsemaco boon Saaoad pa-mal '-la-put.
Snakes cececewses cles k4/-wuh. There .-c.cs00-5-0555- i-chiim-lal’-la-put.
Rattlesnake .......... k4/-wuh-chan’-neh. LO-dayfas-seossceee- as’-seh.
Bind pees sete ere ti/-rha. Yesterdays.----------=- mo’-oh.
1 Dee O- -AASRA OA a-mo’-ka. To-motrow ...---..--- hi-met/-ta.
Feathers soe ee enone hi-mib’. Westiaccris-ccesecesce hi/-moh.
Wings cemcesee ence: u’-tih. NO Wisseniccceesecesesne pa’-chit.
(Goose tececeisesisecioces 14/-loh. Oneleacesricceeeseseees pun.
Duck (mallard) .....-..} ha-ha‘-che. TWOsasecccsoscsp cise kok’-kuh.
Biveon is... -scecceicese ya/-nan-wa. Three ...ce+2- s-<=<- -5) D0-I-tai.
Bishissooscc0- 8 cs sees cha/-wal. Four 2es8'ssscenrcuce ku’-i-kuh.
Salmons. 22 s2- Jose o’-mil. Five: 22250 sereebeeneee cha/-ma-heh.
INET) cecGan escn BESebe hi-se-et-a-oh. Sikes eee eee pun’-chi-bim.
Wihitevse casero seine sorais me-neh’. BENG cee podcasecseaas kok/-kus-ban.
IEA Cocca sceeeos ease che’-lit. Bight eeeeaseee esta ho-tai’-chi-bum.
Red peceeieseeecsceras wi'-lit. Nine .......---..-----| ko-i/-kus-bum.
Lightiblues.--a-ascs-- hi/-mani-sut. BN Soo ees oeedae Gbadce sap/-pum.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. ATT
Chim-a-ri'-ko Family.
English. Chim-a-ri/-ko. English. Chim-a-ri’-ko.
AND EM trcodes ceoeae .---| ha-mai’. Mojstand< ees == === u-ho’-tat.
Movdrinks 5 -se%-s-- lu-it’. MOON SSsSs cece eecoccs ho-am/-ta.
MROMM Myereseeieero eae hi-mum-ta. EROCOMCeerreeciee eso hu-ak’/-ta.
Modancelereesseses= hi-sam-pu-mit’. okwallkcaeeereeetsssee hu-ak’-te-ep-tut.
ROVSIN Peers eieee eal ha/-tak-ta. TOGWOr Kemass2-1-- 2 )5200 hi-ching-ku-yet.
ROISLEOD seen sedeenereia-1- po’-mut. Moisteal-- ses ~-)|) Ka-DUtehsce ones. coon
Lic porsibll ee eee oa eee kush-a/-ma (small) - ....
mia-tser hiss 2.288325 kush-a/-ma (small) .-.-
LES o-o5 Sage cna onese kush-a/-ma (small) ....-
So Soda eSeSseRy does COO S85 RWO=WO=1 5 20) s5/5-1ce see
Menez hae secmrewasicm sisee hwe=w4).c ss-ahssssssce
We -O-WObl!..ccestcnsens|) RA-kwelbs2.cscsclcceseel
we-0-watl ........-...- ha-kwe! Sssoncnastesee
basset cleseeteeacmrrscees kush-a/-ma, 222-22 = <2
Sa SER CAC REPRO SEAS Be: IRIE eek cee
HG Al its eaeeeree oe aasaon kots-pe-lon ...--. ae aace
tol kar Meee neces sasces kots-pe-lon ....-.--.---
KO-Clign sc sersae ana se oes kuts-we-rak ....-...---
Witt=Weblisssssene = o-cerd| INCLWObp on 53 Telok scp aece=eeseees 1O-LO-K@ ee ces toeine aes ro-loke.
ID VGNeess sons Hesb acd seca ctsaksGansde oscaccc¢ Me-KO-t80-== eee ee mah-kotes.
MwelvVie\ecantteco ster soen | heaeettaeeeeeee eee cae Me-T)i bah mem emo aae ma-dete.
Twenty .----.- --| ri-ta-ba-hel ..........-. Mi=ta= Dale asec ees eee ru-ta-bah.
Thintyi 2-5 3-2 - = ra-ma-holissanes == secs TasMa? 32555 soccen -so5 ruck-vah.
One hundred ..-....... ni-ti-we’-sa-wan-ni-hel .|.-.--...----.---.------- koat-sus-sa-wonna.
COMET P ER AG! OR Sa ce desl iscooenesecos Heas coe coda base pond oobpasnoscés Sons roloke-kah-lah ves-sah-
wonna.
Tojeatiess-se sass —" kes, (to chew) a-posh....| tu-poi....--. ..-..---.. tope-ploy.
Poidrinkey sas nctrostets aes seas see eee ee CUP Olea easiest ma-ratch-ee.
WRT Sopens sabaHcodoé Keurla- @\s 2 cere fe eee ie lath-li-ka..........-.-. lee-thlu-kal.
WOW aNCOire no, cso iteteenec cocoons ta-lo-lo-woi.......--... tah-lo-lo.
DOYS See) A akG Sonese IPO Sap eoc soannooche IPA Sen aporcs aseoseosc lah-lis-wog.
Mhosleepe-cs-seac-2o2 ee te-tlel . .- Srogeecons)| Ue SAN GeGeao shen ode meet-sa-droy.
Mosspeaker oye eee ta-lOjene ene aeee sees kuts-wul-loi...-.-.-.--| tah-loy.
HLOIRCOs ise cietse = ana soe tau-etiela ones case to-hwit-la ..........-.. mee-lade.
BOs dae bacsee end Iscoceaoeceoowentnn SE chee | lscaeat coadeesoones beds mee-rar-milth.
Motkille reset ase conte e tut-hulslow esse eee tuk-kau-wun .....----- smahl.
Rojsitis-ees assess GUM-MC ance e sees esas GUM-MOleccewieys ose === to-moy.
Toistandi-s-eeecsheie-o TO=1a Mec sct ecensewce ta-la-Wie===—5 = esei ese tah-la-milth.
TO: f00 cee neeeeeees ss ko-ro-waili2-s 32. -.--s-5 ku-lug-a-rit...-....--.. koo-roo-vah.
Wojicomeznscuseeoen sos KOm-ta-o. see seco cease gre snpaasesco sse6e. ko-lo.
Mowwalk 252. cacescacis|(vecwcsee poceloewc oa cetiaenl tei aiptiseiae case aera inet-kard.
YU'-KI FAMILY.
1.—Yw'-ki.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at Round Valley Reservation, California,
November, 1875, from two members of the tribe, with “Tony” as
interpreter. The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
2.— Hiich’-nom.
Obtained from Mr. Stephen Powers at Round Valley Reservation, California,
November, 1875, from “Tony”, the Indian judge of the reservation.
The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
3.—Yuke.
Obtained by Lieut. Edward Ross, at Round Valley, California. It is No.
335 Smithsonian Collections, and was by Mr. George Gibbs trans-
literated into the Smithsonian alphabet in No. 564. Below will be
found some words taken from the Historical Magazine, April, 1863,
which were not in the Smithsonian copy.
4,—
Taken by Mr. J. R. Bartlett from ‘a tribe living near Knight’s farm, at
the head of the valley toward Clear Lake”, California. It is No. 556
of the Smithsonian Collections; the spelling has not been changed.
483
484 COMPARATIVE VOCABULABIES.
Yu'-ki Family.
English. 1. Yu’-ki. 2. Hich’-nom. 3. Yuke. 2)
Manercecoacece THe MU Dy oooace codecs HOW AU Sp oseaecco ped bee sae ocho cess paocos|| LEONI
Woman ....... HOW) cososss esas HAWS) Soose]sebecns csc HME 6556 sees cee po’-ches.
BOvesseeeee ace Te DIY Kens once cess i/-wh-pekh -.<.--. .-.... @D-SOkeecoseeeaee po/-le.
Girlesees ees: HNC Se eose een MUS! “Pel shee =e las mu-sok.......-.. cha/-les
Infantieae =<) RES cao cosas oba5S¢ SEIS od6 pdos Segecaboae un’-sel (little one) | e’-yatom.
My father - ..-. ung-kutl’ ...-..--.. GUAT) ba are 56 Saco |Socome soccer sesses i-ai/-ya (father).
My mother ....] ung-ka’ . .......... et-teh) mn 9 - Kale eeeremae |= aafeeeten eras i-na/-a (mother).
My husband -..| it/-i-wup ..---. ---- eh-tuh’-wup ..-.--- ---.| et-lai/-ugh..-.--.
My wife....-.. TU -MMUS Dyess sesiactos | LOU-TNUS Dy area eeyameeae MUS ee ees ae i-me’-si.
My 'Sonvesr sens ieke(-leheiescesseeee LEW Bo asoceadodee|| SOce nsbscqcaoase i-ya’/-ka.
My daughter ..| i-nait’.....-...-... ekh-nekh’-teh -:-.. ....}-.-.---- pecetedose, i-ye’-ka-pi.
Myelderbrother| ung’-ketch ---..---- WYRE once soce see] |coneo> seaccs oSa000 i-ye’-pa.
Ming SOU eho TAD see cooomaoolh ESO MY Gooecomanciccocsp||sas0 ancooassco neces
brother.
My elder sister.| ung’-ketch ...-..-. PHAR) WS esos aso-orl ssooob oe seScocgess 1-el-sa.
My younger sis-| i-mith ....--..--.-. MEO AN ERR oasag Brose |o- En cdot soea nose
ter.
An Indian - .--. Ot-SUb! nec sseccns alch! scsiees
mu'-shi-kah, ...5....|) mu/-shel® -<.., jo5.- sesso ||snicie selene oaeeees
kin-i/-a-hah ....--. Kein ovens «5. jasemente oa lasses rca aerecelaee
pa-te-na/-ock,
ho-pen-te-na/ock.
ho-pen-han.
pa-wa-lak’.
ma-ha-ish.
ma-ha-ish-pa-wa.
ma-ha-ho-hen.
ho-pi-hol.
po-ka-hol.
ma-ha-ish-sol.
in-pa-es-i.
ma-o-ke-si.
ko-a/eye.
lol-ti.
mW tai-ti.
hin-to/-la.
o-kal-k’ti-si.
ma-pel’-a.
on-t’Ak.
tso-6k.
me-lep’-u-ma,
ho-cho-pol.
te-cho-ik.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yu'-ki Family.
489
The Yuke Vocabulary of Lieutenant Ross was published in the His-
torical Magazine of New York, April, 1863, and the following words con-
tained therein, and not found in Gibbs’s copy, have been added:
English. Yuke.
(CN pees S58 SoSacooqeSs étil inka,
JON OWON) sencssooscns- Ss0es6 hial-it.
(Qint Cash ansesoceso canes +050 nottimun,
BMT aes aSeccmo cine Dooe AEA mektip.
ATMS a eee sect sai pee Puan
ADdOmMe neem acisoe serie erin sintch.
Beltyeen se paeaenesoshoooce tsna.
Caligotler (isa esq enleaaa al mi’-il
LEGA! a omes coooSE HCeSoNOseSae mol.
WAP isacese.gecesooceonensos pai.
INSEE beeccemsascp posecs.aee- 6ssa
Friend, brother-in-law -.-.--.| itasi.
Sunnseseceasece sstese acces summet.
ICC a sccacc Gag sens S50 Ocor 6wun.
(Gil hor rce ceinceccepsoccc Hees kochala,
IDCs ae Spb sodas go dese bebe élum.
SHG Coscce costo nsenpcecte wo’-um
Manzanita-tree ........-.-..- kusik
A CONUSer meses ce nae caicaes kaims
IRs iN eSccon Boom pesonoot witisok
Werysf00ds- see seeaeioaaacs tot koi
Sick#asesseese os seater hi liyu
English.
Day after to-morrow -----.---
ROI Geet at sla
(GOW ONG) Seoccssesecs caescuse
(Gora chees ee secee Ener,
Where are you going?...-....
Where did you come from?...
Go tell your boy to come here! .
Witonvorles- =e eee eee
Have you any acorns?....-.--.
Whaviemoneree see ees ===
Yuke.
up a han.
ti tum.
shuga.
etin k6ta.
kéta.
tiike.
tawita.
kOt kaimile.
ameléte,
hama.
halta.
kau kéta.
lis kéta!
im kéta?
im ké6mo?
uté!
etin tchaina!
kota kaimili mit
epsok komo kau!
wit, witka.
mit hdlta kains?
étin halta yot.
Sopeod||baacos oeSel.cses.cc Aoag||
ask! = sto sascec onic ac] coe stanw car eceasersasicns kan wietuses-sclen sc)ocie-e ne cneese coe oases eD
meh-meddi -2--------| tee =cecai=sioseeineceeti-< |e)
MRO oa. ea ae gee wal eee stewie ws meacieese ews DONefscoemeaceines-aissios| hoses aeceaceawecee ese 21
BHMAN oe ne ae a= Sacies||(Seee teccer Saeeacesea cs phizmaiss 22 cp 2ee0 222: BhmMae= 222 senses a 22
MELON reps t ae aia) ai atone Wi=ka-helia 82 sey sce creicia | Wialincre tenes creeeoae 23
Wa ei sete Sy mecteyacce Sse Vaan ecg teciese testeee sea Clase cumeres seston | see!
BARE ose necen nels taemes arse lavocs ae shins ene hajen-cee eee 25
hau-bah’. 5-52ssasa- se ayes cee ew aesine* a eae hau-bale---=-\-= osaeee 26
OhGss Sac 8e2 ta. SEee sees Ost aae se tee macieinice ai goed ossadececd cscs 27
hu-yah’ Sootcs Saco IO BSc Soon Goce Weed oaneeeneeHeacemece 28
WatCAING ncea eso esca mcs Mite eradiag peGeepeacd Gene ee AaSUCanecmaSmass 29
BE ena tea ceo oS SE OSUGEE iabcicio DEEN Some RoeECIss Ikosm whee soe a sees oil Soe aoe ectosiwrertace 30
UE ein eo amCeSsScone GAN aaah esses ose UE eScanadosdaesan| (lol
ta-na-tsu’-hai ......-..... ta-na-biisessetsnesaee=s ta-nakh au-hai-.-.---. 32
Hae wis Cli Weve ecnsaweiae |p aeemiseis oe cre acite cae k sisevs bons Seis oe even sine | teremee eA erale as wietecinene 33
Gch! shencet wea ese: Bel Ss eee ont eaeie Sask cout DLLGhaee Sores ee cease | poes ceases cemeicees.eeets 34
Shine Dales Soe ae eeals-cs seedless Seioeeee soeetamacs Bhusbae saeco ese eoee | toes sere eeeasse cease eee 35
Osh eect cetacean | Seer ren oe eae ce mieisen|lnacincctecce/ ae same siowier ootl| cos cotae kobe eeeeeicn ce 36
OSC A Un ye eens fers | ena siyay aren orc yaqniatenn [ein atte ee cioaeeiswaeae eres cece rac cises sinsisasyentle 37
RAO Nee ae epee eee aa lene pem Ans spas socks oes| Scan caceimer ooben satis ebee|sonaceae deed socermaece's 38
Shupku hit oayocercese = eres | Bee eaciciciosawce senses IPE a daccan cabens poos||boccdo Goon baebenEeSeo 39
cha-mah(tneme 2 -\-s2se se Wekaemay aoo searins sone Ka-ma! 2c fo st ceeeieceee sha-gukh ....-....... 40
Ka-Map-sShuUwesasesieeaaeolicase es cet. ene sce eoccek Ikasma-tSU qsece5 == sa-\loseeesccee cian =o sereerele 41
MSV Nes a teen clea eyae ae Joos ceeseess Bee Vacs Soret cae ee alitem cme ehcbesetesosee 42
496 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES
Pomo Family.
English. 1. Pomo. 2. Gal-li-no-me’-ro. Se,
21M 18 etd teens ocen oa ncoa toe dao UI Seone oe coeneo os BR CHO g boss teu/-kum)soseo----= webseesereee
AA’ MBlOOd sa oanie ao ateee ete ieeee bal!-laihs is. os wesc nacseec-clesee a aCHe bi pic ccttaotwie ces ose es eee
45 | Mownywallagayseseceelesse eee po-po’-dah.................--..| n0-po-ya/-leh
AG: || (Chiefss-s Ssc- a Bree) | GHElEN as Sea somooroacess casendes
48: | MeGre css tecasssscccestecesees @m-Mahtesacmoe seeee es eweeteeee ichu to c2e eee ese SonnSnea calc
ZO) phanthelandee. cesses eas isece MAN: Jas esc ocho peeves eee eee Bi-MAia decease wa nnes ce yeecetoaies
BOD’ Seaiss-ceeccscciseme vice ctsee Ug hO U2) UR BRR eA ORE Sam OSoAbeeo|| jiesephelert dys ee o ee ee OS
81 | River -.. 35 Eee a coil (bided ail = 222.5. cde cee aoe eee ol D1 ak Ska eee = eee
82.) Lake: 5. s<< soes-c tances weet Irartu hs sae: Sonam snieuteiae kartanl ccs. cases neenaece ele mae
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
497
Pomo Family.
3. Yo-kai’-a. 4, Ba-tem-da-kaii. 5. Chau-i-shek, 6. Yu-kai.
Nae eee eins a oe ets | eoanaacios sjscciaeetaee Kame eeu, Soca crecind|(Seos se cencoaeceeeeeee 43
MB eee ee osae Raaciee | [Saconyosos coeest cesar ba-laikih <5 ss\-=seise- baelailees sneer “ 44
Giesily sncceecesese ooo ne| lpScbcasy ose coca SScel| INO SSoncoqtSasb ose ESsoee (iY) qasceolossaee cacae 45
Gps 4 cestpces ce skdl eGossbcceeee eRe assed Meha=karle! oss toc ssiecsn|sencusaseeseceeeeseen. 46
Chachaicalt-- sess occas (casa. Ne ec S ce ieee a eee waste wees | Ace aa sien ee mae a 47
Ginn TiN 663s en eeadS5||5 bbocd sopess seeseoeese VERT OS Socison nem500 D664 |Seapebececcerosssocass 48
Chalipenee see taco ten Case coeseccecisccons CNith ease eee ce aoe aael| ham eetee as eee eet 49
nS ES AL Aaa. cose on|Sesec conScoboesosocoe|| LIP Wey ie koe Sees Real Eee on eer ocesomcosssos 50
HE LESH Ti ca ce co Secod | Ses eco secu poEeroEd ene USMssise SSa6558 Goes 2595||cosp ceca associa 6aseec 51
ignites se qea se season seas Perciwloe cesta ssos eee ae: CChOKe aes cece nee cee lseecweee soecics ac seen 52
HET IG) Nora ceeetsnedse Sel Kodo ct cbisc SeEOSe SEED Es | SSBSES espe se cess Seiler cere ey ei mas Ser 53
ken -ohitl=lO\es aca) soe oars UGrIIGAUD cot ocs toccen||ssee sasaSose sce sussscor ka-li-mati--sscsaaceee 54
gaainga es ede semeee deco ce Ra|secese case cost poss cece SHUSNS seen een ersce sealnce nee mere oe sine acer Se alnDD
IGATAN MN cstes cogse Cbs cada Soecenseccceceseas ka=-ma-la-pa-leks5)../.5.25||ss-ccessccve sa neecesce UDO
Rakibach be pelea eaten | aeaatamei eects cicice cer CRIB RIP ANY) A ca cincce con lasntaoadacds case cessor 57
Ral Rahs eee rece steer erat eteeye t-te sisicinioe sence ella FS EORM ES SAE SE SS ea De eel loser rman ssosce.coseoc, 58
Reagclilipee stcics sciacseetel | some ce aren oe eicrcieneeie Kasih 2222s asec. Ka-likh).-s2cce ===. Pekeas sesso sane aces bac Sescsesoe waesereees
MAIS! Joos ane MO esse sse sass csece ss Mes -s2sccesss ese:
Phabyogsane soe. WEL eS eer BoneSSS uses WEY Secmeaades asocc
JAWS oas6 sotee ya-wal-ine..-.--.-..--- ya-wal’-we ....--.---.
Many, much ..-| kwum-tsa/ ...... .----. kom-cha’ ...-...----
VV) 6 S5s6 5655 IGN EN! Sao Scio asbiben B56 ES AY Soak beseacece
Nea sea ass With ee seme Ano oace (SPR aesato aoa et stein
Mo-d Vyasa ems SIND) = sAca nee aonop HOSSoE SHOse=s= a2 See see en. =.
Mesterd ayes 4-| OU kea sce stemaina since Ku-tzai’ <2. nine
To-morrow -===-)\) dU-€m! -=. .--5.---..--- luswemlztes 5 -2s.c.-:
WiGheeecssouoss @ade4su ipseacsieeaas cack ee naan Geacaceseasa
NO oSosesesa5e¢ ewilchveciseniat= sere ae= IGE GYS Gotebpseseasc
Oi ese Aeso sa) | ANE e ce eet coos Gone [ete Soen Beeo anos
MW Obscene saieae Other ee mete sieieeter=lieret= llth asad ooaceb
Mhree\ass2-e see OM = Keane ees ese meteror hom Kaye restesies es
Pour ss jseoaes testes cnaeies| basics amcieeeeisacesese
MRSS eee see ebi-balj-eseceooe WW niStiesisonass son=||Rdsacnse dopepoceoacs
Mhatites: 35.5 3:25 cers seit Coe deo Bhaescees\lsoost anasasnoascnoe
ANN cosets pacistentRetecina=acceasae Ko tease. 2-5 MDOCH=e-iitesee meee
Many; much ...| bo/-yab....----- boo-yah'---2----- hums. Sssiecses
WhO} eeosei-cae hak’-kah .....-.- Ea eisoSoce cberlisccoocoecncese ocooe
IAT oeiasceciee tlt oto tieacisn creas oe alle Seca ae eee seins Kel:elviseaeaceece 3
ING ays sce cho-kahy 2es-2ec chaw-keen ..---. hun-wap-na -.--.--
Ore. 2 ei ce iscnlecieserie= cleo ssid aahll eee sees eaeceeee bom-e-ta ....-....-
There sacl loansoe Soset > Sepee, |[asosae apse scesooce ghent-la--- 2. - =~ --
Mo-dalyis erate hon hi/-mah -... | paw-tu-kah...-.. SON-NOstsereetes tees
Westerd ayy sell eeiis-feeenctee cic sen-chum-us -.-..} len-da-...-..-.---.
To-morrow ---.| hi‘-mah ......... hon-sat-che...-... him-an-ken -...~..-
WES soonseccdes um/-min-a...---- umenghie- sft hOesaases oe ea eek
INOFeemectee == elGlovemta- Sess acon esac DUO poeSe cos eeose
SSR BASE BARSH Cop SSA ts Sesaeedb bocca paw-pee.-..-..---
BSUCRaeb Once BESece Jane eaose= ee lay Olt. 2-555
Di-Deneeaasasiea= tep-per -. ------ tep haw ...--.-..
Qscsosuscse wees: EN sonen8 cons lnapoeeteraep Condor
SHOP feeccnee ses e-li-wah ....-- a-O-Na Dees sae
@-ta-ter 7. 2--- ==--|| Kat-teb---. Wwer-per -..-.-. ----
nep-pe-tah ...... tas-seck ...........
cotteh, pl. cot-ters| se-eet ..-.-.-.-.--.
hah-muck ..-.--.-. oo-lee (hair) ...----
Jo-ln¢# eee [EPS ootcen codasack
an-nahy sees ertece= TRASH Sooo sosoco ccc
te-such, pl. te-8008) |... .25-----1s 2-1 cee
tche-ki-e ......:. to-moch-ra ...-..-.-
4. Tcho-ko-yem.
wis-uk-kush (little
hand).
_
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mit'-siin Family.
5. Mutsun.
thrares, tsares, cha-
res.
mucurma..----.----
cochinsig:..........-
atsiagnis ...-.-.-..-
Sinigsocee sie
anan .------
MACCUE See aeetece es
(AMEN oa Sscqcceccue
MGS eee secre steer
tagnan .....-..--.--
UANISCS eet niceten tote
tahanan-.>.-/-5----~
CNRS ic soos eee
6. Santa Clara. 7. Santa Cruz.
8. Chumtéya.
WERE eee acore ccoG chareseacos sees
ROCHE? aoece cesses quitchguema ....-.
netfresh ....-...-- alashal soeesse clase
nesoorik’ -......--- mapas hes eee eee
ne’-pe-soorik’ ...--- alashieeecestce =r
ap/-pam ..-...-----| apnan-.----..----.
enfana Meese se] Aaleceecietaa ace
WMACCOscse=eleseeae WACOssseeriscaeeees
AsMaM see lena=ss oe haungns see eteseer
in‘nishem (son) ..--| innish. ..-...----.
shininein (daughter)| ca......-----------
taccam)--.---\.«-=--|| belnan! ...------=--
fau-Shik/-Sshenvass= 4 sacs sjo-es one eine tec
tananemi (sisier)----)| tec: 2. --ese. ===
UEKI, “AS ouig coo eos| bea SodeBStcchaaeaacd
tagash (ta-’hash) -.| uri..-..-.-.-.------
Ot ne Ss6e qe ceseds LENIN eS aeeeeae
SGSaSCcSoDcscrep Sse chamus)—2s" tim-u-le-li - .... biM=C-10) seemtes=s|| (DU-TAN peas sesereeee tal-lanWa) <<< <<- <==
75 | Lightning ...---. wil’-e-pe-pi..-.| tim-e-la-lah...--. wilea-wah-rap ..---. ta-kiperosasctse= =
MGn| Paine so ee—e aes no skah se se-= nu-cah*.see--e ah-anaul:-.3=225--- DPA scescceeecieces
27 | SDON, orecars s-jes='el| saosin aocce ses cah-lahieses ee-3 POLO cececeeyeeetres hu-to-1) cece.) aoe
(ey UbGlos sosspsoosa)| wee aesae. woo-kab.......-- rore-ta-on -.--...-. we-kikh< << .s.25.2-
79) Water... -=.\-.~- kaik!-whesse-==- kée-Kkalh ee oen een SC-COlen coe eetoee ee late SScobosacsences
isl) eos saceiccasoset| Hooded Sons eeesct SUSAN ie meoacc eel DUL-Chujec se eraeeee shu-sha’ .....-. ..-.
81 | Earth, land...--. to!-tebiec=s=—-=-|| wal-leh-.se-~ =e W&-Tepi-e-s-s- ees WOrd -pisseen ee caee
Po AR ogee. Seas ssco| bee saa Em ese ane pol-ln-cojes-ee=-= se-€e;(water))-.-=-.-.||\ li-wal 5---cs2-2----
BB} || TENG Oe ee eGa Soca laseacessoe ospcee wae-cae-mette ...| o-rush.........---- PO=la So eeeree eee
CaS ualketne-o ase s passissi, pl, passdssiti ..---.-..-- 129
murtusmin ....---- tuhuahbhi, pl, tubtihhbiti-.....-.-.-. 130
patiamin ...-- ae yochétchi, pl, yochétehiti- ...--- 131
HU Beas hee] BeoccnBaendeC accents aoaaoU aS seer 132
lacheamin -..-....- lana, pl, lanati!.---5---.-... ....|| 133
NOVO ere eae oe oe chittak, pl, chittakhéti.....-.-. 134
Oo=fresice: ==: 42-= oy ani, pl. oy 4niti, ito oyameti -.| 135
NIM Ase se ae oa 136
cooshooemini - -- --.
chinnepitki, pl. chinnépiti ------
English. 1. Mi’-wok. 3. Tuolumne. 3. Costano. 4, Tcho-ko-yem.
37 PO ULON Cee a eee ser iee| NOO-le-n ayer aeteremy cah-mic-mish --..-- Aya: CHAM se revere pat-re
138) |ROdee ose eesenee hu-mil-sch-ki -.| on-no-so .-....--- un-takh ....-.. 2... O1SVISi ce oseaseseicrss
139) | Sonne secsascees i-na-tim’-eh.-..] hu-ac-ke ..-.-. -- o-chis-chush (small)| su-ku’h (new) .---..
TAO" (Goodies es meses eecteoncteeece ace Cot-chelses-s-eeee hor-shah’e=--ee eee tO-WiSiccco2. Reese
147 || ( Bade seeenc- se als=caeemesea cose us-sette’ ---. 52-5. ete c2snsesse eee. O-M0! sa 2a2 ss Seroeee
1427) Deadi2en5 cate sacel|Soe ces ccesecras tehum-sah. ..--- hur-wis-ta ..--. =... ti-le-nasis-scece-ce rn
143.) VAlivG sessccles-ces|secalense sac sest oo-tche-atche -.-.| ish-a...-2.. .... <... hen-nalke- ee teense
144°) "Cold. sasc0-sSec-s||-oecemsecceotes tu=ni-ehie-s- eee cah-wee. ......---. Met SOZ-21. somes ee
1457 | Wiarm, Ob) saccoe lon ae oe eee eee wool-te-te ...---- lah=Wileee= eee WAS ate. seers cencsaiace
W4G6\ Mesa soneae clean acess Sacre e onll| teseeeec esis oe ee | cah-nah ..... os\ka/ cosenscces mah-ho-quay<---\|---2=- --22se ese) ke-Ne -Kusheas aaa
IWAN PISISS g5o5sn GeoDasdlsossencadoenccce LeEMm-MO-quiaesesea|saceiee eine seer pa-chis’-ak ...2...-
UO ISON CHER aS Saceio|leaeeaaasea Asmooe Can-N€C-6-QUalses | sere = alee ens ee tenes shem-la-wi ..-. ----
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES
Miut'-stin Famity.
SSS]
5. Mut-sin.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mit'-stin Family.
8. Chumtéya.
maccam
SISS = <= asset
neppe, nenis
nuppi, nunis -.-----
irugmin, irucsun - -.
quesse
attena, atie (7),
(who) numan.
ATUUA" See aoe Sere:
he, ege, gehe, neg-
che, hi, igi.
usthrgin, utsgin -..
Capjane. <5 -=--
uthrit, utset, caroas
parue, parnes
naquichi
pean anet
6. Santa Clara. 7. Santa Cruz.
toowisteshmini ....} tuise -..---....----
hoontach -5----=--- juhoc-nish . ...-...-
SScbescncdsossos See cotecma -....-....
orchis’hmini . .--.-- ursheshmin.....---
ectémint=-- see sees hutesmin ...--.--..
(HOB: conaAconeaee FOMOSH tierce
meisie eerie Sie -teeeesicie ash-ho-udra (to live)
CON ge ceereore eres fanshigecc ears
JES chee poeeecaras @lisosese cossososee!|
GUIDE) econo pbs peas nl eerie cose asee
HGR eees see ers UU eee ccna cose
arookshi ..--.. ---- neppe--------=----
MAK KON ees a= = maxenti ----0-<-> =~
mak kam 232s o-2 MbHAR see seissaa cee
NeKKaM = ac = ese - = |\socsss Saescn eee
INS OE) Soocccisass soe- jit} 9) 1) sapecocesoaeS
WaAKKajc-co een sicce= hemi ssesee
6MMeN ena aae WEA YOt Snoeeas eooAeD
makkamémen -..-. Vases soca
OE Kerassacnecsce ats .2 sem ccecee ice
emmeshi: =22=-=2--- amatica .<---5.----
Hates ses ae NA] Neen aa easier
WiCOSDI-2-S-/42- ss5= MICRNs3sse5- Acct
OOSHIshies ~sse--1e5 MUMNGA), F<- 22 ecsseo-
ehn6h) wae o esac 6]@r. sees ae ecos sees
ell6kishy=... ss. ce <5 eC-Kkd -ssc-2)osees5.2%
@mhGnie esses ena: MPC Wse years
OOtNi ae eenrsoncs cele uthinycosecseme=ce
CapAN cess ere see = caphan << -f.e==~
Catodsht2s---- esc Catuashi. ---eos=-0
mMOOSHOOLes=-e eae MIshURe- see ee s=s ==
SUaKODa ao ae mera BSaguen ..:-...-..-.
kennétch .-....---- tupuytuc -......--.
| litte, ito
tallille, pl. tallileti, ito tallal-
meéti.
humalétki, pl. ito humaléyati
(said of persons).
salintibii, pl. salintibiiti
chiito, pl. ito chétuméti .-....---
uisui, issui, pl. ussuitéti..-.-..-.
chaima
ka/lli, pl. ku’leti (persons and
animals).
hitpuppe, pl. hitpuppéti (said of
weather).
vultete, pl. vultététi (said of wea-
ther).
nii/-i, ni/-iko, fyok (this man, this
woman ).
TPES UT ay qo Seneca sae
Fri Eh ynh() So omscas Sudanese
pana ne’-ok? ne-ok mana? («ho
is she?).
géttan, kétan
ayeténu (next to, aside of )
MOGI se saeco ee see rea ceyesteniate
kinge, kéuge (one ; some, few) -. -
otiko, utigo
trokhot
oyissa
mah6éka -..-. -
temékka
ka-uinta
547
548
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mit'-sitin Family.
English. 1. Mi’-wok. 2, Tuolumne, 3. Costano.
DMT) So Saecaosou) [boo sco cont oeecer Cow-wit-tahteres =| |e eteeeeeaee eee
WMG) cosas Sossss||sesasscstscosséce WA) SaoSoacsccr|| Sears ctadoo soeness
MON ee ectose eee eae eset eee nah-achah jae es4| sacs seca eee
TOSS Saanaes |Pocosichcocnsos Diaichale bath |Peeeeeioeieeeeee
reng-et-to.
Mwelvei=:scleseo seers aaa seeee eta hitachi ah leeearrenapsecie seers
al-te-co.
LN GW Sees oes) bosessoosaoons. reng-e-Me-wOOM ||/---.0y soo else = ae
(one person).
ANTIK? Sese50 s658|ppoces cooaseseboc|/sossceses od ceesec|[Socnds sone cote casans
LOI apganbooee-||po aoc ocee bool bsoesecceonose Hsse|| Soass eso neo asen cabs
IA eee cnc) send |esecne ocetce Secs ||soosce cobcco sesse resseshoceos toot scce
Si Ny coos sor Sse| Sesto sgossosnoss|saseconsccestasss || sesso otecesotectase
@Oneyhandredis2es| peso see eeae eee Masse reng-e-Me= ||. 522 seen ese eee ee
woom (jive per-
sons). *
MUCH einen iene BO/-wuht 2 -=-- watcha-oo-nim ..} ah-mush.....-..--.
To drink ........| u/-suh.........| o-su-mah ........ o-wah-to ....-.---:
Towunes:-2-22s- hu’-a-teh ...--. hoo-watte ...--.. o-tem-hi-mah .-.---.
FROMM ANC Olea esen| See eceecioe aes se watchiicants2--.| 11-shahv-- 22-26-25
Mojpin'g asa cee esse sonst 2 ntl oie car emece erste ee har-wee ~.-----):2..
dN GG) Nieene secs |lscascecooeasose. |E=eacd casese cesar esac ade >t s5o5 pce"
To speak... .-.-.. li’-wa-koh .....| watchi lee-wa ...| a-tem-shir-le. .-----
Tojsee: cscs cssce-|| BUHVale ss. 5s aece\|). cscs cobee etesertee a-tem-hi-mah ...--..
Toflovertseet oo 2aG | seco eae ceme | pasciccue.c “rector carl eaere erence eee ees
DGS ose eeen yun’-a-koh ...-| watchi u-nipum..| me-me ...-.. .----
RONSIb icles cro nal soe eon coe So. == ee | beta oele imi sernne marl ae omega eee eer
Tovwstand. .o52 2-22) (52-2). Sa kconet a[ bs seisewe ee eaarisocs||tasieoetaseeeneeeeeee
IE OY $0.5 soe ete Se anal Slafessiats| speieiniesfaiaie'sl | je ctereieic ese wiemisisisia TEC EN aS eop ooS ee See
TOCOME. So 2 5245) po See sce shes Seer ee eeelsecascwmted|teeete sce ees peer
To walk. 2... 22-2] qrulenehts. - 5:54 |hckeoenas seco eens. ooo sercweeiee eens
Toiworks./o.-2 5. 4|betenseos adhe sox ctowSroSb owen seeullbaaimed cw ae edee cereal ae meee mec atone merce
TO PiV6 - 222.5225 |sc cere acehe Ise’ Slo SB s ssc Soe | cacossceec cre. ese aso cecares seereaeeees
To laugh 525 322se las cecte So sce celle cGa cise qesceectere.|| in toceesessieces eee
NOMI ~ o220:5 eo. |seoecsstecwsecsal| Sostakecnercseeieds oll sec eoceee coon
4. Tcho-ko-yem.
o-sho-yak ...----.--
ywh-nes-ash -.----.
ki-chis
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. D449
Mit'-stin Family.
5. Mitsiin. 6. Santa Clara. 7. Santa Cruz 8. Chumtéya.
UEMURA es a eee ara OSabiSieyacseeete === MSALIS Ice se See s-e LtLO RU Chon see oiceba dor SOaarS
pacquie------.------5|) eouléktishic-.------ NOU-KU =, 22. -.s2-- Olyiznay 6li-aaeesaoslesecice sate
tancsagte, tansagte..| wesh .-...--...--- i-@SN oss 265 sttn 3-2 NMja cscs eeesaeeoeene ses sezer
tanesagte hemetscha imbhén-aye----- ---- imheshwacasush:.=-|-aos-aecce once we ee cease saeioete
hach-ichos.
Bae sa lence onieecre see Gotin-ay en. ---—s-=-| \abhenushisess -sseer| Saas ensete' seer ane eeesaceectaset
utsgintanats ...-.--- ootin-wish-.....--. WPAN onos4nel| ee Sao oboceo. sasoo soe a00s eee
utsit tanats ....--..| kapan-wésh ....-.-. Cappan-lu es hese ser pemieeiteam asta ieee ee melee eet
wenn ee cena enn cece een ne eon gee ween ones Gatnash-ineshines sa. |eaemenene sos sae=—eaiea = ae eee
sacseatekesecoceTess |sodaecusbedd anes aed mMmishar-iueshy as - =| seseeyee saseteneiacie eae ee seen ee
soobeo bacoes Paso cecni bootda ouSese écse-bebs Baquen-inesheeas ==. | temaecia as seeten as aaa ei nate a
tanzsagte tanat ...../-----. ------.--..-.-. tappan ...... Reet oa| McOSoe cose codeqenoncesiocacanee
PRI psocse Soesoosoe ammdimene -.-..--. MEN fic egan eandeces u’-a, pl. of object. W'-ati...-. --.-
Sos bessen ndcece date weto-mene ..---...| uit ..-.-......----.] tibhnu, pl. of object. uhhiti - .----.
See Soisesee ecoeeees ‘electonkei ......... ulicay.......-.----| hudte, pl. of subject. hudteti --...
Chitemaaeee=s-- == -- | tOKCNON yan cnees= =r chitte:=)..2=tesS2-: kaldéngu, pl. of subject. kalangu-pé
acoso sce sebep conan cot oamiooSt ob conuSeeE Chanelacssn- eee MUM Os < cooeneeemcaisciee tere.
SOD OCI GADEED Gteb EASE ettininecsanee =| (OCHON ees sac =n | UY OKO) .a 2 se tees penne seca
PIC Haves sees ceperee MONON Bveria es nete=t4| AY UAL se selon clas < Wi akOtte co beecsessecee seeee™
aebnceiceseisoeelteaeee imma 222255 2255)! WIP aya oa) en = 25 MOY Ois-35 5) seesce cosn,ca- secieese
Mpisins55-.- sss nonowenti-.--...-- Hasan So eae eee he-aunise (ne’-ok, somebody) -- --
aime seen Oc bore] IMGs tae Sao | LIN baer ois sire ersll LV OUG 2 sey mee ay safes Tee ee eere
aoeRenOnOnod ssecacer Chaw Nailers = eae MUA LA b sets ete) LOM Kae nos cee mates eet eee
SS eSaSeeDH DSS sO Rone OM Ale ete ses e ee MCONNOMME sea eats | DAC Mita ee memes ne oeieeeneeclo ae
BV ONS fasns seco RAC DL tea ean eee JMECOY She ceameAaeae u-é’, tie, to go away, depart, leave.
FON EA | Sea emerocasseo) | Nec cee eecoseeneees EL Se oe OnreeroeceS WE) op soe cence bseecs coeebore
Sosseo roses sodyinéee Wallen Uiesnee 2-5 (CHAU Mespiase = soos | h WON Ocean ramen enleee ere
paseo Saoéasonsaces| Los ocd oconids susocsct|loonean bansoooackesoe URINE TET oes Go onSraee Sos ooee
See eee eser een earar |anson aoctiene a)sa2 oan receeec sees ce ccceoce @MMO= ane ee ease ieaee tear
east eeeee ets aj anon Naemecl cet cen teesmans ences ato acrsaes ae ee huya'kecnt2 sos sos fee ees
a00
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Miit'-stin Family.
English. 9. Kawéya. English. 9. Kawéya.
WEN SB GbE EDSsb 6aESSa6552 nonga, Rabbit; hare.-2---. 225 eplali.
Woman 2.2552 sa-sssineee=s ésah Rattlesnake) ..-222 2-22-25 lawati.
Sinn fam tate oie tore tenets tetstetetaat- éshello. IBirdihce neers saatee oar ener huilowen.
Head isememetetase tae aye hanoh. Salmon. <.2-. -22-----¢--s|| kosammmu:
Je Pybe So5Ss0 5 csossacooosu eS yousa. SUI E shoecossosesccshese kawtiwa.
Halyajscs=ei= Poupodasnssoese télkosu. Good es -a\o ease cee tee ktitchi.
IO Olaaso sec omsenpadoecnoee sumtu (pil.). Bad) vsjooce cesececieeyensens tisutu.
INGER) aacepe Sooboshosaceeds nito. Mhosocencocsnshasa bacasaes wilutu.
UCT, BSSece SpaShe6 paosae é6wu IVA scons SasScssapescess nétnet.
Teeth, oeeewe esse =e = eee kutu INE BA ons enc ap sabioASeae nawa.
Je HSo Boahos eSobeS Gade stimochu. ING aobecd case csnose necase hutu.
ATMS case teice lee eee ecen pachalu (pl.). One s=-ee ose =e e eee kénga.
Mand! ss25 <== siec< sos tisu (pl.). LNG lonseihesene causes tend otégo.
IME soccos booe0s SScce. lésloski. SET eG sso ane ceeseee eee tolérkosu.
Dhombeeewsre eosoe eeeinse uttinda. INOUE GR eesoe sessed soescoes oyissa.
WE sscssvedodsae coco bESt sala. PV eyemeesacince satreeceeeee mésuka,
(NGA sooess sonsscae5.600- ungiyou. IS PSqnaaee bocce sosbee uote témuka,
LBP eesccsrasscar sacs oases chékonnu. BENG caaccoscccdcenso seas kemék-kuku.
Female breasts...-.....-.-- miuzu. Wightiejsee sce se 20 SSOD6uS= kawitinta.
IDs s ondesebosodeecca cose héchonu (pl.). INDIE) passes bacceosccorcne woha.
Mootigsasesesen-e see se hétta. Men eases hs eee oe Seer nia-ticha.
DPoeseaose. 2s] aes eel lésloski. INENG@M non ssoesdossooseahe kengate.
Town, village. .-....-...-. huyanni. Mwielwie=ece=- pases err ottiksukana,
(iy Oe onaeossas eden soodes hiyahpo. ANTICO Rsooossaa adtaos toldrk sukana.
IMeGiNG! osemce seecser ssa s walli. Bounteentees see ies <5) ee oyik sukana.
FOUSC: <2. -= sec eese espcrsecie kécha, ticha. ifteenices =cecres eee ees mosuk sukana.
BO Wits see ie éngali. Sixteenecaciss-ase=e aa aee tamuk suka.
PATTY OW feet cine ae ate seit mitchkalu, Seventeensecc- se saeeer acer kenék sukana,
Bi iossonesocaensischossces opa. BY chiieens ee s= see seepe ces kawtntase.
Sib ek ee ereeroes catmeoisesc hedima. * INTUNCIE Gon ees6 cosines osec wohdkase.
MIQON So5ca8 cacace cosoccss kéma. ANN) somes cco esan055- nidtcha obgonem.
Ie ine opiosecdatcccsadoac nuka. Mhinty, cace=- ote nidtcha tolorkosunem.
SMOW jasc s-- cece ssc oece= kala. Ly donoseisocs GSEse - oc nidtcha oyissunem.
Ibe cscemoenscecoodaseeuc woka. Qnethundred See ese eee nidtecha nidtcha.
AW EUC Ba cocas caceseaseenoe kika. Moveatromans este eee chumuk,
Banth Wands scceea cece tola. ‘To\dance} sere epee eee kulanno.
IGN ioneSsogeen bonces apa wokélmuti. AMOI so oeeSceGens sosebe novali.
Hill, mountain ...-.....--. wu. Toislee pias cease see see tuigem.
IMG) seas ceaoeascooasc ---.| Saka, TOI mas seersesieeeceeeeece wutken.
IDM Scoon asasce oceans asec ehtiku. MRolcomeneeesateeeae eae uni.
BGan Wee eeenea se nae eee ustimutl, Dowalk:: sccce secewoscee ce wonum.
Hllomerccceasets ca sae see mouzu. Shoulders 72222.-5--o- ne ttiyoupe.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mit'-siin Family.
51
English. 9. Kawéya. English. 9. Kawéya.
| |
1800 2-55 aoe Soo Bone GSEe hitewa. | Down; below). ----- ==" al6wen,
DUN ORS ac. cosaodenee scasee tiseni. _ Across, on the other side-..| katéwen.
nah eek 2 ee ence kawnu. [ERS e nee sec tae ae télem.
Ostenion assess. ease eeee téka. | TEESE) a oo6 Sosec DS DEAr tanogok.
Mhigh< 238. wessaex ooo ses litepu. Very good indeed ..--.- ---| kitchiskétchya
Man’s privates ......-.---- tdlolu. AU ey SUNTISeS oan aa wuksu hedma.
Woman’s privates ........ | wokota. || Bheisuntsetse.-y.c ono eee uni hedéma. |
Friendly, honorable - ..---- miwa. Teamphun pryjsseen-e- eee hakiyinnem.
Pest, bad smell ......--.... toke, toka. Good! child). 2ees-- sase.-eee eshello kutchi.
(QUEM)! Gancct dleamerenNoees yuwallu. Goodiwoman\e = =o --e42--- kiitchi 6sa.
ANE Sacha see casseoe east tiitusa. Bad man ...-......-...--.| tisutu nénga. |
Cloudsteeet son aries ydanopa. | Powerfollman =.2---.2---- nénga kawtiwa. |
Spring of water .--.-..... akdwalu. we good, honorable man-.-..} kiitchi nonga miwa.
Greeks cose. de tecsaseses cet sisa. Toyeortowwallktesenceen. a= ee wiksu.
Spout, jet of water....---. télolu, dlolu. Where are you going?..--. winni wiksu ?
Rapids) fallaj--es-(ssoee oe hamite. WO 5 UO cco ssaose costae wiiditch !
Road \pathan cess. s-se)-c—2 muku. Good=byeles 2 = nen <> <2 == wuksum.
Cataract .........-.. -...| yohamite. Let us remove, let us | wibu awénga.
Trail, foot-prints..--.. .-- hétta. changeldwelling:
ic iO ee tvet EE Sg OSU Ve aa
Table-mountain ..-...-.--. siwa. Moret Tidlots esate ee titan
Snowy peak ...-....-..-- kala wu. Let us get rid of this nui- | wihu wikum natoke-
Manzanito-bush .......--. nipatuya. sance (or bad smell)! téka!
Prepared! food! -<------- ==. awa. Whence do you come? -...| winni uni?
Pine-nuths.=----26 ceeeet sékotu. iMPoxtraveltten sc cee Sanne htiya.
Hlowersitess2c4.- cose ee: léyema. How do you dof...--..._.. huydku ?
Oak=tree 222 vice ecciceeeee wiutsn. Very well, thank you -....| kiitchi, 6kassi.
Wallow:<2ic-22-cacersesele oe lima. Expression of surprise or | pauttluksik!
Lizard) <2 2 sesso eesia se yuwule. CER NEISOD
Vipers oes eal eae aeqnein Expression of contempt...) shatilpet!
Wildnontrdy ch ee Eashama: Expression of disgust. ---- kant!
Govotep ens Oe pei Giea: How much? what is the | metéka?
cost?
DQuUiTTe eoseeeeres cease tichasnu. Do you wish to buy ?...... amoné?
Beads, wampum ..--....-- héwutu. What do you call this?....] tinag netnet?
HSS esi Bones senso ae Is it good to eat? ......... | ktitehi chamuk ?
To wake..--..---.-------- stiyenem. Yes, very good, indeed ..... hiitu, ktitchi skotchya.
DOT e8t wre ano ono nan = ehusk. Iam hungry ; (give me) to |“hakfyinnem; chamuk,
To call (by name)--.-....-.. tinag. eat, friend. walli.
Where, whence ...-.--. .---| winni. Thank you, we are going, | 6kassi wuditch, walli
High lofty cs ene... | Wyo: friends ; good-bye. walli; wuksum.
Wp RbOVOmscs--sa- eee izum.
do2
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Miit'-siin Family.
English. 10. San Raphael.| 11. Talatui. English. 10. San Raphael.| 11. Talatii.
Man ...---- ----| lamantiya.....| sawé. Riverici2 fo e4lisoee eee wakdtci.
Woman ...-.--- kulaisb..-.-.-- esée, estin. Mountain ..- ..}....-. -.....--... || wepa.
Child Fe =-oes lessee cease seer tune. Stone, rock =--2|/lapoiese--e-- sawa.
Watheneea-eeeee it Beescs scoaes tata. eet paeiesmames he Ley athe ak Yo dlawa.
Mother2-ce=. <2: UNAS Secse ese (SWiood timbers ements tesa kawél.
Songeerece Jeeeees Pie Ssecao ekcace Dog. eaensaess tshutshu ......
Daughter ...-... CiIbSppeSooerose tele. | Bear .....---: kullale some eater
Brother's c.-yeenel aster et icreee adi, i) BY=7) anes Sevres Sean ae = uwia.
Heads sa-ss-e-e- MOU see sae tikit. Beavery.- aa timisioeeresa
2 rh eee Soe Ge so eRe Se ere munt, IMBirdlee er ce se kakalis..)32.2o: lune, ti.
ares her alokh ........-| alok. [APigh: cen.eeta Wes ee eee pa.
By Oise says-ee a GNIS ce Beboce wildi. | SENO A cceatca|| temas saoSenoss- tugun.
INOSG#2,o = -2/2-=-- tuik.
WHOS soho cesses easbSseoc kuaga. [SEXO pens cece esousseneson|| Ihab
Wephew)noss-seeeaten ere tov-i. Kmeere.---- Rdidooe. o0gEe0e wui.
Stepmother. ....-..--...-- amooko. THO ocaeeop eadcas sesccase o’-ol.
Grandfather ....----.-----| putoli. JE oe sss coceceasanoseESs kom-yulli.
Grandmother - ..---. .----. abytehi. Sole of foot .--.----.----- kom-vga.
Grandchild -..---. .--.---- tehatchla. SIS) oonscos eso cassbd esse shaappa.
Son-in-lawyeceeseeeer-ee === kao. | Generative organ of man-..| talak.
Widower, widow ..-.-. -.-.| ayatchum, tole-shigo. | Generative organ of woman) othe.
Rel ablvelse=anaeeeee ee cer akagou-oyain-ku. IBIS oone sses coor ceed.5 5% mytehtchi.
AINA ane ee eae eae t= oa ulli-nego. Hearticcseccee eset atc vushiki.
IRPECEMY Saeuos.csoss0 neonoo Igvuyume. Nab Gye Sen caeeooeceonosSas kitchtchi.
Snaniardiacascoseseaee ooo: oliingo. Brain: <5. sseorsenesicioa's=s tosh-sha.
Mentian) j-2- ==. 5-2 —~= allayume. iBlood=vesselies--s2=-\s=— === lat-tok.
Head): .- -asi= Wasaterae heen molo. THING nGadod Sone Sones Sone kylla.
IBY) pena ndosaoes seoe asce|| Oban Bowels\=---- ---------=---- sh6oko.
Horehead <=. <6 ----- cane=- shutu. BW Goose somcoe saeco aaS6ae shigri.
Semiplesties seem e sete aeeee pagoddi. Bladdereeeseeseeee-e ee =e otchou daga.
IDE sSoséacsssen sscssa.cans alok. SEM ensa sade ssceec cosase akoi.
IDS) eco ces eeo paoeenesecuE shyt. (OGY Soc boancs oss caeed: utch-teha.
Hyebrows' <----- --..-. -.-- shuntum-pogla. Rerspirahion se -es=< se ale.
INGHG soso ec ocla ote =o cla u-uk, (URINE) Ge oSessccccesuasceas otch-tcho.
Monthie casas eee eea ao - || agi. Exerement -.------..----. ka-a.
Gipsy s ween esna- === lagim shappa. 18 ys oeoosooogs BoossACE kanying-6bu.
AMOI Gs osc co cececosseeLs lem-teppo. ADM occas ase ceeoos Seer lakko-liva.
MGW soosce pobees chee soce kyt. Corpulence=esc-a- een eee umudakh-mitcha.
GMEE Ro cosencanssconsosue onim poollo. Beannessjeeseeteeeiaaee a= umutchimotcha.
ISAK osoe cosa Se OSSs uttu. Humpbacked .--.........- puili-lumma.
Chin\eser= see se eae aee eni. |PAIDSCeSS) soen t= science a= shuppu.
NGO. S65 cose GhbSes cosoee allege. INSITE), done Sasc dace doscr: iin-kade.
5dD4
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mit'-siin Family.
English.
12. Olamentke,
English. .
12. Olamentke.
Croup, convulsions.. ..---
Womitins sess eeresecee ==
Diarrhea. .=-o.s-csees <=
Tumor, swelling ..---..---
Colic, belly-ache ...~..----
Swoon, fainting fit -...--..
Wound, injury ..--.-......-
Blind sans sce weeee eee
WINER 2 casos Soo ceanoooEs
Dwelling-place ---.....-..
Stranger
Murderer: ------/ seo =e
To pinch
To breathe ....-.--..-----
To whistle=s--<5---2---<--
IO Gi Seaanaca mong CSoee
To cook
To eat with a spoon. .-...-
To endeavor, to try -.-----
To shoct with a bow-..----
To throw with a sling, to
fling. -
SROMMATE ee saree elo sree
To seek, to search....-----
To blow the nose
To beat, to strike
To break
Mojembraces ssc === =a
To hew, to beat...---.-..-.
Mow praises. sss-ces— ees =
ToOfear r= <.c5sc0ceshsccess
mynyme.
al-lyby.
putcha.
atchi.
kshtita.
pitehu.
ingatche.
uyak.
yul-mupa, iil-mupa.
nylymty.
vaail.
fivai.
shoga.
kutebu.
shagédé.
tyuvy.
laavik.
kulli-dakhtama.
lima.
shuun-latchi.
natta.
koshkudi.
toi.
onak; to weep, ? ndéteha.
Dotthinkgeesesce ase vuushin-aly.
Toibuly aes ss vase sees eet cee shuliya.
Moise tesco assess shuiyaba.
Rorgain; tonwin\=s--sea-4-= kotch-tche.
MROMOSOkessaan esa aseeeeee haiya. |
To swim <-/.-. spobessoces opo-liva.
Moistin yee eeessal= seer obatchi.
To wrestle 5: a= o5 e520 25 5
Given eee ocicesceen see
Rin quick Weeeee esos
Sit/downl!22-- ee eee.
RigGleececsee ee eee ae
How did you go?
IshalllrOpesese tessa tee
I will eat, I wish to eat ...
Wlove theer wes-- eel
How is (this) called?...--.
Show me the way to the
village !
How many inhabitants has
this village ?
nukum-dy.
lageb opiat.
putu.
onak.
vaka-liva, gymai ka-
liva.
villa!
vaié!
tu-iikaine!
ogni-shvati!
vate!
utu!
indigatchi-ovit ?
kavay-dy.
myom-shava.
kamyng-opu-mi.
indigatchi nave?
ne nushagan mugu
iomi!
iiketo shalit inigo
iomato?
NOTES ON THE OLAMENTKE.
By Pror. F. L. O. Rorurie.
Boy: omutchie.—Girl: omutche-koe-—The principal part in these two words is
omutch.—only the endings seem to constitute the difference. We find something sim-
ilar in other languages, as in Hebrew ish (man) and isha (woman), Latin pu-er and
pwella, ete.
Eye-brows: shuntum-pogla.—Should shuntu stand for shutu (forehead) and shuntum
be the genitive formed by the addition of m?
Lips: lagim-shappa.—F rom lagi (mouth); lagi-m is probably the genitive of lagi.
Cheeks : onim-poollo.—Onim seems to be onni (face), and probably stands here in
the genitive case, which would be formed by m, according to all appearance.
Thirst: lakko-liva.n—The second part of this complex is lird (water), just as we see
in Chwachamaju thirst expressed by the word akadaviido (aka meaning water). Some-
thing similar we find also in other languages. Thus, the Turks express thirst by ‘“ with-
out water”, as we often say ‘ to be dry” for being thirsty.
Corpulence, obesity: umudakh-mitcha.—Meagreness, leanness : umutchimotcha.—These
two expressions have one element in common, viz, wmv.
Mute, dumb: allamatchava.—Matchava, match, is probably connected with the word
matchome (to speak).
Deaf: alaloko.—Alok (ears) may be easily distinguished in this word.
Wife of a chief: oi-bum-kulle—The m in oi. bum seems to be the genitive ending;
and a similar inversion appears to take place, as we find, in several of the agglutina-
tive languages of Asia. Other such genitives we see in shuntwm-pogla, onim-pollo,
lagim-shappa, ete. IKulle means woman ; oi-bum-kulle, literally, of the chief the woman.
Ship : lumani.—Should it be connected with luma (back), viewing the sailing in a
ship or boat as riding on its back ? Some such analogy we find in other languages, as
in Arabic, ete.
Good Spirit: valliitThe word valli (much) seems to be identical with it. In sey-
eral languages, much and great are expressed by one and the same word. In the latter
sense, it would mean here the great one, perhaps the great spirit, as other Indian nations
express it. It reminds us then of the Chippewa kitchi manits, the Dakota wakay
tanka, ete.
Jacket : kamzul.—In Chwachamaja, it is kamzulu. It will be easily identified with
the Spanish word camisola.
Hat: mo?bu.—The first syllable of this word, mol’, is probably molo (head), just as
we recognize in the English cap the radical syllable of the Latin caput (head).
Morning: kaul-me.—The tirst part of this expression is evidently the word kdul
(xight), the whole alluding, it seems, to the night having passed, the night being over,
and the like.
558
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 559
MU1/-SUN FAMILY.
Midnight: kdéul-koa.—The word night (kdul) enters into this compound, as it does
in English and other languages.
South-east; alakivel’.—The word kivel’ (wind) is a part of this compound, the diree-
tion of the wind probably suggesting to these Indians the idea of determining and
naming the cardinal points.
West: elovakivel’—The same remark applies here as in regard to alakivel/(south-
cast).
Ashes: kommi.—This seems identical with kommi, the word for dust.
Sea: koin-liva.—The second part of it is livd (water), the whole meaning some-
thing like big water. The word koin in this compound may be simply a contraction or
some other modification of kavai, which means great, large, big.
Branch: dlwantale.—The first part of this compound seems to be dlva (tree).
Sheep: yamana.—In Chwachamaju, a very similar word is used for sheep, viz,
amany.
Pig: kotchina—The same word we find in Chwachamaju. It is simply the Span-
ish cochino (pig), or rather cochina (sow).
Lizard: shiikava—IiIn Chwachamaja, it is shiukovala.
Claws: patchtchi.—Pitchtchi means jinger-nail. The only difference is in the vowel
a for a.
Hen: kaina.—This word is the same in Chwachamaju.
Pelican: shebullu.—Connected with shabulun-aiti (crop, maw). Something analo-
gous is seen In Chwachamaju.
Whale: puwno.—Whale is puumo also in Chwachamaju.
You: makko.—The only difference between you and me seems to consist in the
more emphatic pronunciation represented by kk in makko.
To eat with a spoon: kutchu.—Kutchu is probably the Spanish word cuchara (spoon),
verbalized, as it were, to spoon.
To throw with a sling, to fling: lddvik.—The word lanik (sling) can be easily recog-
nized in this expression.
To marry: kulli-dakhtama.—tThe first part of this word stands evidently for kulle
(woman). Sowething similar we find in the Chwachamaju expression for to marry
where imata (urada, woman) enters as a compound.
To sell: shwiydba—These two expressions for to buy and to sell—oue in their
essence, but different in tendency—seem to have one element in common, viz, shui.
To swim: opo-liva.—The second part of this expression is liva (water).
SANTA BARBARA FAMILY.
1.—Kasud.
Collected by Dr. Oscar Loew, of “ Explorations West of 100th Meridian,”
and published here by permission of Lieut. Wheeler. It was ob-
tained “from an intelligent Indian, named Vincente Garcia, three
miles from the Santa Barbara Mission”. It appears as written by Dr.
Loew.
2.—-Santa Inez.
Obtained by Mr. Alex. 8. Taylor ‘from an Indian, thirty-five years of age,
born near the Santa Inez Mission. he rancheria of this mission was
known as Cascen or Cascil. I ascertained from a native that the
Indians of San Buenaventura, Santa Barbara, Santa Inez, and La
Purissima spoke nearly the same language.” It was published in
Taylor’s, California Farmer, April, 1856, and republished in the New
York Historical Magazine, May, 1865.
3.—Island of Santa Cruz.
Obtained by Rev. Antonio Timmeno, and published in Taylor’s California
Farmer, No. 8.
4— Santa Barbara.
This vocabulary, No. 527 Smithsonian Collections, has endorsed upon it,
“Taken from an account (Diario Historico) of the expedition by land
and sea made into Northern California in the year 1769, under com-
mand of Gaspar de Portola, by order of the viceroy of Mexico, the
Marquis of Croix.” The spelling has not been changed.
560
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Santa Barbara Family.
English. 1. Kasna.
WEN ponies oooaeces CGE GU Grace ra sase
Woman 20. .--=---- 6-neke\= aes eae ae
WG) eee aoe pasaotch!
pishanteg erect se|ao-seeee-e wees paughken, pl. paughaken.
DAN Secs coeipon Doce aap (house, hut) | pawayish ..-....----.----
PEROT Asana soso paneEeaconcac aso psa cce cociods na daroaochScas
akihieeeeee=see eee GON sencs Sapses twopau, pl. twotwopau. --
Wek Sacuce BEconeecon allow ---.---- yhushie esses sees see
(TENE ism qncmaaccch scecearocnoaceias Let hO)iseno baad scobosecae
aoa asnonasoaoocot tomolo=....---| tomolo .......-..--.-_-..|tomol.
6ke-n6MOsesess see seemioeseeieeses ichenMOoOk-seep setae
G-aShi so sete ceccs|acaccesececeeee escalokel)-~ 2-022. e2.2i-225
SHOW 235 aoe Sec occ lesccs en: paccisec|eciicce posses neeaee eactesen
Glapa ....--. ..-..-- alapa ..--. ..-. nowwonee .....--...-----
Gish especie =e. alasha...<-..-- LEM MS o poc5 GadssSSnse
a-vueigh ....-..... ah-y-ya........ GUN cesGsso eras vecces sace
ak6-yua ..=.. <.---- ahkewous ..... acklickes = ase 3 seerimeceee
@lish 2 2252.22% Secmce|o8e osecce cee aes fannem (light) ...---.-...
sulskwkch) -o22%-.1e-ee ee se hoes aie cee BUCHEMY -e es ccee tees
WasShNakHiGt semen cesses ccceteeres KKISSASSIN eee ee aie
Stapeini. c--- nasal oe eee see eee BlabOP ise see sae eee
BSE Caen moe enon Sor enceaocass stivamaueken -....-. ..-.
shizshayvnt2-.sya2-e|| se seteeeoenn cere Oateceter eee see ect eee
SU-2Y-M). ~~). ceeee| scot eter ee seeee BWielt o~ - nce ece Sacre eee
sakh-kut .-.-..-.-- sakhuet ....... gacomliloneece==-tee=n)aee '
SOKL-KO! 5 = ececel|Seccse ee sees eee ooughgohone .....-.-.--.
Skants-hugec.sose|aseesee eas aoe Scuntow sess eeceisee a=
shtu-huigh -....-.-.. stowoe ...-.-.. siwo-pfao...... -....----. i
shkalum'). esere eee seces cose ane Seer eae eee eeeeeee ae
NW) soos eee see teee Knue zeae acess 1) esccriastedo - SObisSOno5
Satoh OO ona Base all <= e".-2-2-2| Mihov ac eee eeeeeree ase
shik-shép-shu .....-:|52-s2..-s¢-c..-24|ssezceiees oseoess -seoaclane=
shugli-p-s-eescess shop) 25--/-22-|) DMIsOupra_p eis sees =
skhaémin .... ...... eshamel ....... nutewaugh ..........-.-.
sakh-tétekh ....... stayhea-a....-. oolam, pl. oolulam ...---.
SSaHHees G8= > naes6o| baaseeioocoaneese skilliteenanue .---.. -.---.
stau-4yek .-....... SeoceSsons Stouahicky--s-eseheneata=e
i
English.
JOYE + Gans chao nosbse
Beaver
Rabbit, hare
Torioise
HIOTSO meme= n= siate oa
Mosquito ......----
Snake.... -
Rattlesnake
Wish = -€ <2 saseiscee
Light blue
Yellow
Light green -
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Santa Barbara Family.
1. Kasua. 2. Santa Inez. 3. Santa Cruz.
mi-polémol ....--.. ushlolumon-..-.-| anuloowyah (hill), sbille-
tupun (mountain).
shna-khalémo -----|-----. --------.- SKOWINL =< 3sS cocese pisknehigh, #223 22:2.
TONE Gomcannoeses| ISae secmeniecdsacc cahkanys. 2532. feos -sa
IIE ee conoe tba ssel| SAGs50 DegEeHe sad SSSSe6 HBoe ree see es Gaceccr
DIEU pease see see eee esata | sa oman oe ae eee reese siacieaice
pual-udlaigh....--- alpahtar ...... keloualoual.-.---2. ...:--
pkonumo-monetch .
pkho-ugh, (to de-
ceive) pietiets. —
-| gakhf-egs .......-.].
PKO-ONi ssc asass| sees to soos ncsacelesascosns soaaeaesceweeeos
4, Santa Barbara.|
566
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Santa Barbara Family.
English.
My first son .----..-.--.
My second son ..---.--.-
My third son .-.....----
Mivehan dese seeeeeceat em
Thy hand, his hand .-.-.-
Qurvhands)]--ases eee
Your, (fheir?) hands -.-.
The water is good.....-.
The horse is larger than
the dog.
I see a nice tree... .-....
I go on the mountain ...
Silver is harder than gold) kal-ut ishitch oloil plata.
I have black hair -.-.-.--.
The woman makes bread.
How many horses have
you?
1. Kasua.
ulush tu kénuk téukh.
sa ta kumusk ténukh,
kamaskh pik tannkh.
ukpu.
upu.
yi lau ki-pu.
gasikh-pu.
tchol-6.
kauay-ga khasbi go
tehu-un (kha-ak, large).
po~nis anak pps (po'-v,
tree).
ite akti ne-alap (1-ite,
here).
sakhi mai k’o-kuo’-n (ok,
hair) (akhima. black).
uléneneke se kuel il
kapit (kapit, bread).
ap-shtu kavay ?
English. 1. Kasna4.
Meat essac.) ss ac eeceeee ga shu-un.
Thou eatest -........... a shu-un.
He\eatspensa-e eee gugsb galé shu-un.
Wieteatss cose eee cect gigh guga gialé shu-un.
Tishall eat 2-2. fo--s2ccce gsh4-a shu-un.
I have eaten.....-.....- moe ga shu-un uash.
Thou hast eaten .-....-- moe pa shu-un uash
(vash).
Hehasjeateny= -sens-cs65 moe sha shu-un wash.
I bey a burro (mule) .--.| ga shian il bulo.
I have bought a burro
(mule).
I shall buy a burro (mule)
Dibuyiaidore ss. see so=
I have bought a house --
I have not bought a burro
(mule).
I shall not buy a burro
(mule).
I do not know. ..-..-.-.-.
ga shian auuash il bulo,
gshd4-a shidn il bulo.
ga shian stsu-u.
ga shian auvash ilé-ap.
ke-4 shian auvash il bulo.
ke gsha-a shian il bulo.
ke tchaimon.
English.
Spinitgvees==eeeeeae emer
(ChYEM GSd5ccensesos ends
JOM GIGI, pSas op anees ose
Eyebrows .-...\.....-..-
Posteriors) see = 2 -i=
High friendship. ---.--.-.
Light (subst.) ---...-----
Hclipseleasesseceseeerea
Wakn essere see eres
Smoke (subst.) ..---.---.
@Clondsiseeeeseeas- cess
Strong*wind.----.......
Earthquake ......-..-..
MIOWETS oc-- 32 sses coe <
Avelone, abalone ( Halio-
tis, a large sea-shell,
ACOTNS s-osee on erence
2. Santa Inez. 2. Santa Inez.
shoupa. Tule; bulrush <--------.. stapan.
kanish. Atole or mush of grass- | shuputish.
kamuk. seeds.
A einanitie. Seed = 3: emcee eee sahamun.
witstwyk. Mile coc slelee neice siutek.
ahanalootskosn Wihale-fish)es-=s-1eese=s pah-hat.
loognne Coyote, wolf..........-.| ashka.
stropeitessak iek. Antelope .--.-..-------- shewi.
Rhaeetie Ground-squirrel .-....-. ehmeu.
shukshak-away a. Lice..------------------ shekash.
aprnikere JNIEEY osoccecosscas ssse9 estaep.
TOMNOS Grasshopper .--....--.-- tukha,
toohoey. Venomous snake.... -.-- hashap.
alapache. Black snake ...-...--..- peshosp.
pALanonos Willi) Gas aocteponodce slok-kawa.
swayl-etd. (Ch feosccn oradass Sco hach.
speyhe. IPO) conosco cossso casos unuk.
tabya. | California quail......... iyamama.
Wawiteecsccsn ss scueseee hellek.
ekpalish. | OW seasoseaonnocacs S60: shakwa.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 567
Santa Barbara Family.
English. 2. Santa Inez. English. 2. Santa Inez.
Tucolote or hooting-owl...| muhu. Thirteen .........-.....-.| masca-el pakas.
Horned) frog s2s--- ---.---- emey-kahaya. MOPRIGSES a7. tases soos sess haloyjou.
Sand-hill crane ..... ...--. pooloe, To fight, a fight...--...... eshtaush.
Sea-muscles ...........-.. taw. Anger and hate........... sak a-tuk pe-it.
SICKNCES Ean efeemaitree aio ce yokpatcchis. Where are you going?-.... nukunla?
Deatheees see ees sao Same as dead. Asphaltumyesseseaseee ee wakau.
Very (adv.) ....-..---.--.-| sheshakwa. Liquid asphaltum.-....-.... malaak.
SAN ANTONIO VOCABULARY.
1.—San Antonio Mission.
This vocabulary was published in Shea’s Linguistics, Cramoisy Press, 1861,
from MSS. forwarded to the Smithsonian Institution by Mr. Alex. S.
Taylor. It was collected by Father Bonaventure Sitjar, who was in
charge of the mission. His spelling has not been changed. In Ap-
pendix JJ of the Report of the Chief of Engineers for 1876, Mr. Alb.
8. Gatschet has relegated this language to the Santa Barbara stock on
evidence contained in a table of fourteen words. The resemblances are
so slight that I prefer for the present to place it by itself—J. W. P.
568
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 569
San Antonio Vocabulary. .
English. San Antonio. English. San Antonio.
IND nomansosbecocsesnb.sces tama’. Rabbit ..--- Sao osuons SeNSns map (hare, c6l).
Boye te= ==: Qcedsecase coNsee ssimtan. NAMIE S oto eeceosnees eee. cous quemetzala.
IDM Eth Aaeoos cne=ce bees sce ixquitaa. GWG) 5 saSeeb Sosonedsaaade quetcip.
Wait toe es alee éeco (my father, tili). || Dead ..-.-.-...--..----...- chetpiya (death).
Mo thereee esa = ieee eta epjo. INN Q coco Gocone Beebe se seed. cajéyéta.
TNA NTE A aesenn asoane 456 ---| cit6‘l0, acdyo (elder), || Warm, hot .....----- eee kéue (to be hot).
at6z6 (younger). ee a eee Aas
Sister ....--..----.--------| apéu ‘(elder), aténo TT Ae ee Beene a
(younger). [
TOE) Boe) SRCicS4 OSB SESoSesos zaud. A a aaa ane nde e a Ww fe On
OTenead ane nae emiae saye el zialo. All... --- .2- 200 2222 2222 eee pissillojo.
TONG) ecoseseengacecasD uepHe .| fechocole. Who -..-.-------2--+ 220-2. que.
ATM) <== 52% SoS NeO nee zipocou. To-day ---=.-220e2---2---+ tae :
Bod ges oe Pe est as Fann. GS LOG RVeeser a= sect eee ngtcleye:
Beene ies Chobe myo nigtitn: To-morrow -.-.--...-0----. tisjdy.
ey See a ron ranenane (OMG) = eeeossrosceaqscSade soy tixile (first, zila).
5 TWO S22 csea.08-sco2ses,c50- caquichu (second.
Ip sok eaeer acon costae ejaco. quechequé). ,
Blood rt ee > RL akata. Three = 25-22 “ een ainias cia eewe queleppay, leppay.
House..-.--. .----..--.-.. ...] excon, zama. toe aes ome he ben quicha (?).
SUNY coeé sesiicowndooet Caigsoe cinepe. 7 OT nee:
|| Mw eancseseeroscso tess zatzzipa’y. Caen Retro PASE, | Bis tan
Day...-.------------------] Zac4na (dia claro). Tot nin eee eachona.
2 ea ee a EBs elpal- ToMmun ts saccecsecss==567 icdchemé.
SULT se Se oa ee Lae To sleep stsc-ns-eee2 s5sesc cau.
BES eae h oases asec: Ba LOispeaks s=ostsseecs tte- eee pssico.
Winter... ------- .--+------ ilche. Mo killa ee cece wee ceeacenee nosotros & uno, apu-
marth, lands o2=.(j- =" =~ se lac (?). pzejajo.
Dedifers = oavenoeeeiesse | CHOb-en-1n. MENG poagas cage aa todeaccdaa: weia.
MiaQizZ@/asenccesnier ao seen == (PENIS: Tovwalk ions. cece -ccceens ad marchar se uno, qui-
IDS Seno nadeno ssoaroesees: otché. Pa:
YO°-KUTS FAMILY:
1. —VYo'-kuts.
Collected by Mr. Stephen Powers at the Tule River Reservation, California,
November, 1875, from Pedro, an Indian well versed in English and
Spanish. Mr. Powers says they originally lived on the Kaweah River.
The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
2.— Wi'-chi-kik.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at Coarse Gold Gulch, California, in
1872, from Tu’-eh, an Indian of the tribe. The Smithsonian alphabet
was used.
3.—Tin'-lin-neh.
Collected by Mr. Stephen Powers at the Tule River Reservation, California,
from an Indian of the tribe, with Pedro as interpreter. The Smith-
sonian alphabet was used.
4.—Kings River.
Obtained by Mr. Adam Johnson from Indians living about King’s River
and Tulare Lake, California. It is reprinted here from Schoolcraft,
Part IV, p. 413.
5.—Coconoons.
Collected by Mr. Adam Johnson, and published in Schooleraft, Part IV, p.
413, from which it has been reprinted. Mr. Johnson says it is “a por-
tion of the language of the remnant of a tribe or band known as the
570
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. brah
Coconoons. They live on the Mercede River, with other bands, under
their chief, Nuella. There are the remnants of three distinct bands
residing together, each originally speaking a different language. The
aged of the people have difficulty in understanding each other, while
the younger communicate more readily. It is difficult to get a correct
knowledge of any of their languages, and I have therefore been obliged
to pick up words as I could, without reference to order.”
: 6.—Calaveras County.
Reprinted from Taylor’s California Farmer, which states that it was taken
from an Indian of Takin Rancheria, and that his tribe lived near
Dent’s Ferry, on the Stanislaus River—the Sierra Nevada, of Cala-
veras County.
Die COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
. Yo'-kuts Family.
English. 1. Yo’-kuts.
Nias aeceeasepe ccc [co/-chuny sees sts = nies eee
WiomMantssscesleceeoe Kai/si-nais5 ces cieomeeataacea
IBY) fo soncenen Saou cced|| WRG) Noose Hopceeccaeeseces
(Chile Ss So neeedo 5555) WE ooo) on Sena ate ssS5ods
Ifmeyeth Goseso coos ster Wil-te plese ae ease eaas anes
My father -.--.-.-.-. nim/-na-tet ...-..-.-...-<-
My; mother .--+--6--- MIM -Na-shiskyes= 4 sees essa
My husband..-..-.-- yu-e/-nits-nim .-......-----
Miy wwille oaea-= emer YUN NIM see = ese eee
WE EON eeeeco noes acSe acbliinonim 2 be sseteate te:
My daughter --...-..| mu-kiss/-nim-a-git ---------
My elder brother. ..-- na-bech-nim ..-.......--:-
My younger brother-.| na-es/-nim ......-....------
My elder sister. ...--- na-a/-teh-nim .... .....--.---
My younger sister....| no-o’-teh-nim -......--..---
An Indian . .....-.--. WN A oa5 Ro een edsene sees
Peopleesca-saseee = | OM wil-In aie meee
TEIGHY se caatadaa caencE WOMANI mee GeGcuC abe nbea base
IBEW Be ep coneos Gabe (tomas = om aao eae fe sates
IBAKG) S285 asoses< poral) URE MEE ee cae ode sesbce sos-
Forehead ....---.---- LUCIE ee Saces osccboce nese
IBY ageeecs eso cceces fuk Seer cee creme sacisse
JON @esaanoomacaos toss REESE eeesganicmo caSeco Boose
MWe cee ccepoan55 3505 STL Fo ego tetera ae
MOM esas aetna SDPTE TON 6555 S504 coesastace
(IGEN espcne Sooseses aeCi-c abuse eis ae sere
Reeth eeene sean IG Ne SasescsSboocsuoecad
Beard eeemsesle=eeie eae Cha/-Mush cee see eee
Neck s-=-se—=-i=== MOR so oo secsse se ose
JAN) Seospnssieeca G5e3 (WSS H A 5 S54 coc copeoson
Hand eceee ieee ha-pa’-pich-i.......-.--+=+ |
NOL ya eeeelem ace LEWES revi Ase coo ee
ANON Dasoeas pasccene o-mut/-tut-uh .....--..--.-.
NEW ease co soenes ose Kkel-sike: = se eee ea eeoee
[bith (Sse doeces cmos NO OCUNES Kae S56 soos pdacos
(GSI Sees0 asssco ones MHEG pass ccosssempoasscee
Belly is---<:cs~~s-2==- GL OUS yaaa sete laa tee
Female breasts ------| mi-i/-nits ..........-....-...
OMe crisscross OLGA Sees se Sooeiso coescc
AGW) Seeecasec0enese Leb? oc osyosee ee eenee Thumb.
Caan hieks-\-<--,0s~ eee oe Ka-sehis. << =-25s2scs-|) NOSSO a5. 22s - scant ee ee Nails.
peach (breast)... .---.--- lo-ho (breast, tam-ah)-| pol-lut ......-.-...-------- Body.
Spb sooboce Sees coke Soke Sos shoo ceas cess cere coe sea |sk ee ccasesce cess poscncccs bese CMC
neBEE oneceo rose be seace=5|lcece caecoses cao ceeeed| WOE 6 -cpececeeccomocsascses|| ALINE
Sees nee CEH Grace? CHER ECE S Sab eon Gone DOSE EEIOSEE Hee een Enaa oe manmenate asoses Female breasts.
hash-ish (thigh, coy-e)---.| co-we -....---.-----.| ta-tutza..-..-.-..-...-..--| Leg.
batohalvee mene ancl tach-atche-..---..--- hewatilleum~ ..-.-3---.4--2 Foot.
NOANUT CER ecG ache eacero5 WO-dUs sce ~ oo-t--—s Bk i) Be Seon ome sac ste nee Toes.
574
English.
FVOUROS te opececceeres er
Kettle. ....
Axe, hatchet.......-.
Wnitejemsaeecneset ae
(Chi Gane anso ones
MOCCASIN see cease
IPIPS eas oeisenaeee es
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. |
Vo'-kuts
Family.
1. Yo’-kuts.
HEAT <9 os noapocossoss
hue dh/=pohye aaa = sees
Chifokhtesscsecee pete.
WISIN ooo conese alan mon
NERA opcor oececanotoce
MO=1-chisess= =
kit wistsecones see aeeeeces
ta-diip! Ses sacacseece eens
Bickit! becuse. sede es teee
ha/-chia} <2. sacle tcceecs
HO-KO-CHI < fees tose eee
Pi =pIN Senne sees eee
O-po-duhe tees ss-5 seeeseee
U=piSh!) vac esces See esaijeee
o=pil=hnh ees <5 42eeveea cee
toi-an/-nnhe-= ea -2 oe ee
HiswoO fos sca
besa/-Mal-Wse> <2 2-52 see ce
aikaldtv ee. Seu faseeae ee
da-tstin’-hu-pa/-nin .... .--
tO=MOK«-Si- eiscee= sre nee coe
2. Wi'-chi-kik.
3. Tin/-lin-neh.
hhisan!=tasses ses setee eee
NO=1(-ehi\s sees eee eee
NEEL nguesecemisdactngamet
tral lop ecseese see erieee
HEN igcmee apap esoiseooasee
so-kunl ses ceeee eee es
O) Poscereansero sososton ce ase
(olsen Op essertaeta eee
teal basi. tse ete
nai Slehkese eee eee eee
tormnh: sos. Sect See e eee
haina\-loleee sae cae eae
lats-wan/-hu-pan! ......---
to-mik/-si-u..---. ...--..--
tro=potl= =s5-252e5se0essce
lho!-to-ely hscsessssetsceees
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
575
4, King’s River.
teh (tent)
cu-esh (pot) ..-.-.---.----
5. Coconoons.
fran-ette-chet-..-.---.
nort-cho2:+2=--=—----
dib-see
Se=k eee ce seas ises
LOO=¥.0S|oeeteta= antes a=
AoUS CSSSSSONUO SSae sesassar Pre-POUdse eaten aaa e
O-O0D seer each ee ener= mer) WSUSYOUW ence eens
ta-ah-mem-na ....... ....| of-fa-um-......-..-..
Sall-elicre oe eisen iene cies fchi-e-tas.....--.=---
tab-oht a c- -o<2.<--5 452550 iva! cece ees wc ce cs
GHB eae eebatdeccn teal SSebcasaSccs CEacuoeEod
Beene eae ae eee eeenee| pke-he-deMace oes sca oc
BEottsne COSI OCHE sop bs Sods) CrrB ta Sa Roy aera
Ree oe emie eae lo nee eelosece- | PUCMA-Ke=he.y. = omoe see
snse Chases coSneS SESS cae ho-oue-lit ..-..-. --..
Bec elena necineemecesatecceas me-me-ach .... ...--.
paces ssiveesenseeesalee B2-Clieee caine ssicme as
pec aeeeRasaeaccanaseclscas Ni-VOte we sels ea sone
OR-BOl Acca s cccsscucess-so5. | SOb-tOl.s.52. veseqee2
TEED? fete RS Re al-leckj 22. -s/sohs- =n
Sct eeséa0 co osse cose Seance tall-ap-pi............
sndgerachoaessede =Soddacoa|| AEE AG SeSricaeogdss
Gibl-Kelke see sey ene eee MO-=heils co -—- o= ees oe
ABS ROC Raab apes seaieseerse Bah-leckys-.- =~ cis cae
6. Calaveras County. English.
GINS y fave ote tactance Sie eee Bone.
DED SBA AS A meee acric aces Heart.
DY-Yahiew see see cesarean Blood.
UREN) Bo socnerendesescsisnce Town, village.
hon-O-Chity assis eats ee mets
pache-Chin\reeciafametsta sere se= Warrior.
ME ec qee eacead bac aeonoall near
WRT heddd asIaSenRemMesteebes: House.
kuy-ish (kettle made of clay).| Kettle.
fulslopieee = see meee Bow.
LOV=aVUSter o\< o-cfasis- soles esl | PATTON.
a-lick seis sciscjes teens eee e Axe, hatchet.
MMUKACH Ales sme eeeaei ace Knife,
palsies seeseee cess eee -= |p Canocs
tammay....-.. dSdobS Sade Moccasin.
SOIT peseabco Bsoser ese Pipe.
chan-nesh (wild tobacco) ....| Tobacco.
tip-pa-niny (sky, heaven) .-.-| Sky.
CO) aes Ap eriaec sec eero esse) sis
QU Padoncdo ces déedsessb.céec Moon.
GUNNA WIShes-anee eee eee Star.
tow-DUM) --so5--- soesices=s Day.
WOW ooneees caSdesccnoeson|| INRA
tow-nunkin..-.-.---...-.-. Morning.
hylam sok-kut.-.....-....-. Evening.
IGE < cconsoccoesEoceoe Spring.
op-trumana......---..----. Summer.
bpuOgssere cee seo asses Autumn.
Ofaninin@ =: --eeeee ates eee Winter.
Shuk-kiiee epee ee eee eeee ee Wind.
shukkorse-- eee eee Thunder.
WAIMICTY coe eo eee eeneiee aces Lightning.
sbay-el .-.--.. Meeentoee ene: Rain
troppoll. - (tee see sae Snow
al-a-ushiecee eae eee Fire
@-likisscoss coesoe eee see Water.
{roppolee@eceeecaeseceeee Ice.
hot-troy, 5 -seeenses sass ae Earth, land.
siniotbien tenet secon crete ec sesaei Sea.
polleysRereeen steer River.
Ulikaee a—eecee see ances Lake.
576
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES,
Yo'-kuts Family.
English.
Maize -.-.. Padsos ose
Squash
Plesh, meat.----- --=-
Beaver
Rabbit, hare. -.... .---
Tortoise
lh gisoaosos eAeobr SAae
Goose
Duck (mallard)... ..
Murkeyseeescte-c eee
Mish 7 == ses ee ree see
1. Yo’-kuts.
cha-da/-winl-s -o-. 2c ene
du-mit/ ..... Se eee eee
toin ga-no-ho-pan!
ya-ka/-hoh
COESN Nie ScoerHabmade cacreose
chub -shushy=*=s: ss-siceeeo
NO-NO HON es. eeeeeesee
YuU-Wwi'-a=ats Soncwcte-< cs
o'=wich-all << 22252 -2--22 een
wo-ho-lo-tih
sbo’-win
IGE Sh Sap cHences RAR Senos
eae Chi tee ects eran cee eee
2. Wi-chi-kik.
3. Tin’-lin-neh.
tsa-]4/-wi..---..-2--- eee
toi-na-ho-pah’ --..........-
si-lekh) So -sece oe eaeeae
[HU RS Re iSee a Baoao se dcsSc
Valu lite ome eee eee
OMIG-Sab aoe
ti-e'=pilk) 208.15 o= as crspeene
to/-polh
trot/-tuh
oha/-aitl 2c cannseonesoeos
Gira‘ paibll eset eee ala
Ja-la/-buh
hai’-nuh
Tae pitt aac te eee
4. King’s River.
hit-teh
ta-pas, pl. sap-pash
to-not-to
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
5. Coconoons.
tah-wootch-te-del-...
wa-bats-lo-bit
toido-lLo
6. Calaveras County.
English.
NEONG esas eee ss
UE eee ee eta
bol-loy-e
cotch-itz
PEE Fe) C4 isp mee eee
hun-nUtiess ese sone ene ee
Na-as-isheses acces eee:
puntracum
wut wut
alo-etch-afeaestas ose a=
|
Valley.
Hill, mountain.
Island.
Stone, rock.
Salt.
Tron.
Forest.
Tree.
Wood.
Leaf.
Bark.
Grass.
Pine.
Maize.
Squash.
Flesh, meat.
Dog.
Bear.
Wolf.
Fox.
Deer.
Elk.
Reaver.
Rabbit, hare.
Tortoise.
Horse.
Fly.
Mosquito.
Snake.
Rattlesnake.
Bird.
Egg.
Feathers.
Wings.
Goose.
Duck (mallard).
Turkey.
Pigeon.
Fish.
Salmon.
Sturgeon.
Name.
578
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
English. 1. Yo’-kuts. 2. Wi'-chi-kik.
Wai eccopeadscoocoD ChOi=d Obi seem oatela epee sik/-ku-in ....----.
IIE peep ocasocd ag6c chiim-ku/-tun....-.-. ...--- lin-nik) 22 eeeonoes
Hl aa ee ss cRosdos etc pai-chit-kinsss- ess sees ha-pil’-kah ........
Light blue ..-.-. --.. Given belie isbeso0 coosga.couua| |aseesmososoo cass Socc
SOU? casoseesan so56 UCEOEG NerenocoteEcsd condos Bena aaonaaaaeacocess
Light green ....--.-- (avn en Beco edocraaeencacd lasanesnaaseD SsosbosS
Great, large.........- MI-OS: -\sisais eine sae ease s| sae cieeceeeeeeeee
Small, litule -..--.... IMMAGTENY ce cacsdcorSsousaoca| |sse5 essa cagas6 Gescae
StronQwee ces eteem ete {EN 0 ipapaooInseenul coos oor |asaeaomecueiee doccas
Oldierecesceasaaeeee mo-cho-dnhia cena ates eyainal mo’-cho-lo .......-.
NOUR Peano meena Wil=teprocs2 Secoseasacicee: ha-cha/-mi --.------
(Good macmeseeeeeet IN-CNISH = s=[2/an-sec wena Heel ee at ieaianie cee eeee
Bad emesis cess (URIS Ty tenoceee Somme aascas lsoseqeosennaticun cect
WENGE asdascosES08 LEER YEON ono ccp Babpnoerc| CoEsas none coscesecae
IN Obasceueses s05565 URAC UN ecorec oseaeg COClon SSeeaeeScs OS sacneece
(Gol ce coascbsaccss Ghi-chiky Mera. Banoo nsags4| beocdscopacsaobscces
Warm; )botee~-.-see=" hap-WiUlt! mo c Asraselsjsebisise | neectaiwtens eane eee
Meeieceiaesou conamodsad nah Gesorbosoehodsoos| | WElNG aadmicean cssca
AWN coc codibooedg.ogcs Mah 555 cies ne ec sececase ME noscosnees nocd
18 ao decosobecnenQace NUt=tUNG soos oss ce Seance It) eSesesen aocecenc
WIG sosoeneo caes.ccas NAVAN Noe 2 jose cos secss pees |t=ssseecemessesesees
VQ asca caconces caersno MAAN wos as joes sce see eses||psseaeaaee ents asees
Way Pobse cha G5dac6 POLES pocogs sos3 codso0 S9| looecds Aaa scoca cacaat
INN 3565 Scon.cess S456 ka-hal-mahyceres copee ae len oe tesae eee ereeee
hatieces=-seseee = BOE coe sends send Sseadnad bosSeesaeuccsecs neds
AMWhes asnscnobdsec sa60 kn/emu=yuhy facet sasseeieeer neesseteces seems coe
Many, much......... Wo-chih’ 22425. csccesceceet|lnetenacs. =) eee ener ee
Wihotmessac=se sr eceee Wat @tahs nc scrcc cceis siete sell moretsne coeMeccacecee
LOE? pescado. ones DSEal) Tih ilo sabpas acosoess coscoced |soean See smateleeecee
INGE BSaaoeceatceacs e-chan!=kiht 22. se- 2 seinssse||Paaciecieeseaceeas aces
IETereYerssiarecme one = oe = WI!H0.- cisccec/ cece chase tcseeeneeee ee eeeee
HUNG) Geenccbobed sock NOES eee Sears OOS neHeeEAl | aeeeosseeosadcosscs
TO-dayjccncscsoseceue he-e-chi-e 222 ssscastenisssel see ce emce se ceaeneese
Westerd aye. oniec <1 se MWA Wellle emer eee ae |e Se eee
Mo-m Onno wiles = a= lees YUM hush esa eee see eee eect et eeeeen eee
MeSte eee et ecinee arose HO cas sae ce cunts Seer eeeee hol-holseecescce see
IN@ sesone dacass aaedce Ea EMU ies a5 ccnstos stew seel Meceece eee renee rene
Ones. ces cactescceese et VC SAREE Conse on See eersce [scoetie caneocee saisees
WNAD coocan cosaas cons TOR EEO RE Nass cseccs 4-s5Ge leeegeecocdocsu ocec=
MDHYEO).=. 2 Pa eee Sees BO-0/spiniMa. 272 So -jonc-secellseeeeaeeee aset meee
HOUT Aas satire eeeys nee ha-to-pang-ih! (425s. Scat a|t pene eee ee eeree eee
3. Tin/-lin-neh.
pai-chi/-kin)2- seer sessn =
Chifu‘-ka.ncee sce eee
tre ‘-sahiy teessiereniee nee er
tse-u/-keh ...-. siwaaeesicsse
Mai'-ik 3.55. .s=.cessseee cece
yi’-eh-toh
na/-nih-saseo secc eee cece
Kke!-useh! ea seccs ote ease
yo-ke’-u-eh
he-e’-chi-.
TeV le peperccoe Hor SoSc
80-02 NIN petssee sles
ha-to-pon’-oikh
a
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-ku
ts Family.
579
4. King’s River.
5. Coconoous.
6. Calaveras County. English.
BaChea Ngee = tos Saeco. seceeemamane cat senccee chak-un\2o-s- = o<2+s=----)--|| Whites
i CSC NAS SCE | Se UN, Sei ieye chub-buk.............-.---| Black.
HU See Opa Saab mso nad cc] Baaseonssccasosens Onee (lla SEV aspaecadenecesoaces Red.
Bae aan Sassi cace cease se acsc gece saencneescioese Che-ukileneee seo eh blues
sano ae DaOP ST Lago asen CeeS= 3] sadecs HaaEesacHon seals NOM MOeeses asa alae aee | elon.
EScke sosose cots cnstedzeee||-scnoopssenqssccco.ccee che-uki....-. -.--....-...-.|| Light green:
SpetAWe Se SOL IOneDEO LOC UCEE snacecpecssepaeecEaes mat-trick................-.| Great, large.
Le EOCY SB OR SAEED SOC RCOLE CU BSR SBE CROCS ESA Seer cootchak .-2-2.-<22-------|) small; little:
2 och bo. pond So eaERaoes Usd lageocaen coro ena eons sha-Wuy,-----...-------.-.-.| Strong.
ea se Slater eee seiSsct| as caecsiscore-seea aces mock-n-1a) <= soe aesia- ee) Olde
So bhcoes PSerosetosas oseace Fond as co bconesspccocbsl) WARES Ol sotses sopsese consol eS
See enaan iene seloasts Wace! Sats cs seaseateousisaces in-dis-e-a-kuitch -....--.--.| Good.
8 bccn Reem Bond Beco CHGS OSs NH S50 Boe S REE ASecee patra-knitch........-......| Bad.
Dot Coss St en eie coe ec ceed LeSEeeteneEREeoees .--.| tow-traa (also “ death”) ....-| Dead.
Stciad= sao me cle seSpddoorcass| AASB es Sba mean soSeoe hatumaho (also “ life”) .....| Alive.
Yea G DOB ORS CCCRIE SS COO ESA PEE OE eS SORE erie Os-0-UM) ae = eee || Cold.
So Se cio ema eae aeaeeas sel se move neccesseceescas- shup-lle ase ote nae seese sey ans, hot.
Boe ese eee cee Ho Dace Saar bee ne oscar eEe ese ase ee NA = Seip see cee ee aaseacell| Ae
eae eee Maer sae ian cieeioa| | Peoey ee ieee ce cee eke MeN ess he 5 as55252 teen nou.
See eee nae ee ince ece eee cease weseee ee BAKWR oo ean s teceec ese sl ELOs
DRnateios SABC DCAD Se HBOS AAS NBOOcoIecreed Cpe pee pers MN ccos poo ce cc escone coped! MWVGb
Bee ale pence a eee elec po aares Senet oe cee ee sce Sei geem en osasse 1k eae Ye.
SESH COON =SeE RE So Sad San 4 Sp Se OBOE Omnia MONO, (See ase a slos seco eal LOY.
SSE ae sice ne ooieicmette seo |iseeaon ecass nese ewe et MUM pees ee eee Sas bis.
SS Oe AGOSs OS POEMS EGET aes |lpoesse Esoo cee cueeorace MO) DANY ee ene rae sabe
Spies apseg popes ococeses||s5 Saicc sogsaccososecs os kit-y-my-ma-............-..} All.
SRE areie'= Rive Sane cc eee RM AtiaSee 6 cccrses cise oe MONCY -2----—-)- = 2 any much.
Se SEE e eee E rem eS Cotes occ enome sees DDIM ane ne ae aes eal! DO:
Pdodse Hes Sno dedeinacson Acs) Hepp ea eos4sn cose: ceog|losge Se Joe ae seer eaemeee| ace
Ja eepetee see eee rem oe oa eaten hems a oaive soa chyahi2ss--ten- 2 soye-eies -l| Near:
Societe ae aer- sis ateseneet = SBOE BAAR AR OR Sern in5| Co eeo nd aeaatecoa-rece seocoel |e rh
Sele eee eee eee See nee eee Malaalne sue nian seanint eee al smqae ame cose ences sens sae | There.
Bienen, saotee oes eaeiosee escel|eaa ws see wasn cos eens bylin <2 << ss. - occas aq-| “hO-day-
Dados cds 2bon9 cogaos Bee o NesasenAnas lonesoseses monanin .-.-=. -..---.----4.| esterday.
cas codtosscd usmaceSoss cact|bsesecdoacs sosseadacres WOW esterase eels ett] HL O-MOLTOW:.
ma ntecdcen Sacdesccocss coed eae cséoretepacscces lighaeeesa teste eee Vien:
daewete meee aacebeeeteeeus|bcioses cess ce smestsce cae MMe eee eet sel NOs
A Pie cahe dsocdg baded Shc6] AROS EEE oe ene aa Sse eee hosinininies-ses cee -e ea One
DO-VO Were sertee selec saa eae ote cos cases see MU titan yn sa hose ss oe Two.
BO-paliyemeceaterccice ce lean ota ata a aem crc a ce eee D=Ka-WMN Oke ee see eereeaaese Three.
hot-4-Punaesse- cos ne sal saccfonee ss obese acca OtpOOn aes eee seer Four.
580
English.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
1. Yo'-kuts.
2. Wi'-chi-kik.
3. Tin/-lin-neh.
Seven
Eight
ING Mipaceceobrocddr
TwelVesqeeas-saccee=-
Thirteen! s2sscae-ae—=
One thousand...-.-.--
Two thousand ....---.
TPoreati se -eis-ee eas
To drink
Torun
To dance
SROISIN Pe eee
To sleep
Tospeak .......
MGicOMess=ash sei
Ro nwallkkersaeeesteeea
MOwWwOUKenese=eese nee
Toistealssecs ===
ARO) FANG) = socbee sacoos
To laugh
yit-sing’-ut
chu’-di-peh
nom’/-chin
mu/-nush
no’-nip
ti -0-hO beeee es aaeietematctesetee
Vie -chametes aie tame seer
si-y-Kal-ele)-- seal ee
po-go-e-ti/-th..-..4....-.--
80-0-pin-ti’-th ....- .-..<-.-
hat-pan-i-ti/-ah
it-sing-a-ti/-th.....---.-.-.
cho-dep-i-ti/-ah
nom-chin-ti/-uh
mu-nes-tl'-uh 2. <5 -)222- == ==
no-nip-ti/-uh....-...--..--.
Velo plChiae.=2 san seeieeeniooee
u-ka/-at
e-e/-nus-sin
tau-uh-chi-han/-na .-..-.-.-..
yi-tsin’-et
tso’-li-peh
nom/-chikhl
mu/-nus
so’-pon-hut
WHEE IO) US Semeinaauodacehanse
Yi-e-chame pesca
si-yu’/-kai-eh ..... ..:.....--
po-go-e-ti/-th ........-..---
so-0-pin-ti’-th . .... .--
hot-pon-oi-ti’-th - ..-..-----
it-sing-a-ti’-tb......----.--
cho-dep-i-ti/-th .....----. --
nom-chin-ti’-th ..---..-----
Wa-l-kahi. occe sees eeer ese
tri-yuh-bul’-kah
sél/-kah
in-sin/-kah
tau/-trak
hol’-us-kuh
wa-ul’-kab
Ji-him/-kah
ta-chin=-Kkahi=cemess ase eschen
li-him’/-kah
het/-kikh
wan/-kah
hai-ake.-----
wa-chil’-kah. $2222. cs-as poses “Obes neccas TtZanike.. = 5... sn soe ee eieace Five.
(RUN ERAT: .-s.se scene Nine.
TP orc Bae Aa be oso sds] Set beseceeeenea scons numechala mocloesh -.-..--- Ten.
Lausieigecs tessa aces pee een peasant aa eclnesnen aa] MOURCHINCHE Yet ae aon leven:
~664 Roapmsieanoaesoocos =n0d loco5 Aeinas sco ec coanag MONOSsae'ss=s -so-s- 2-2 4==-\| Lwelve-
Se BARS SOD eso Se LEBDO IOI Sd PEE Cecnee. seme ceo eas COWMIN -2~ occ esJosseseinos =| nirteen,.
SOS E ant ORC EEOC BEBO MOCO NA EEE eee es MUMifcha-osshes2 es ee -| Lwenby.
TSS SSS Ss.05 650 655655 S265) |/SSsess conse sos aso5S- yeti(?) =< scssse5 -o 2-4-2 eee. Luicty.
2St0.c0 $2 2 oon cote Gee osnes bosccaredeceboccastsse cholipey (?)..---.----.----.| Forty.
saéso sesctsnag ofaacens pape lsoobenbeoeareed coe.csee num-chil (?) ....-.....-.-..| Fifty.
eee Se eee aae Sanat se een ceccas ees sen eae nam-itehi(?)) 5. 23--s<\-=25—=)| SXby.
Shesc. cose scbocoss Socucel |bocmes paoecoesos peetcd Eaemes ssecos cops eesosomsdss Seventy.
Seen ene DE car Chey CHDORCECDS| pac DO SECs SER Pes oes C854 pot Oe neces OEE OHOn Bean Ooeeee Eighty.
ASS on nee Sere BF OpSo SSeS | pecbigeee asonee Canepa oe bee eoo nes Bes areSorocorsrs Ninety.
AE ORE SSO OSE Sane coca. case In-cooe cee aneanoe eee atalinics>.csceca eesti asses One hundred.
Sede ne seb sot Sonesoscocienoc] soneao coe sea teecoe cEae NO-O). 222-222 eeseos ess s=-||-L wo hundred.
Se Seer are aie ctaacoee | acosareoe Sorte sin aeroe mom darile soso -2e4 2-2-5 |) One thousand:
SShpSS bic Bese SOEeeEDES Cer ear Cho nee choo esos esse pon-noy ----.-.-.-.--...---.| Two thousand.
Ben DE OB OSD AE0 CARE 050.005) AR Se OnE ore COPE A eOr see 10-C-UP lena sae se ee ee Soe ML OLEALS
Beatie nla nente Heriomaa sae | ns a ciecioaee aaeaterenes UL ee oe coe Senet To drink.
eerie en ae aes ate pase enn one sane ease lebimicyesse seas ose sees To run.
Kalslang-alins 2s scent sces| aoe esas ese eraee see WOL6 yj eae See oe a Lojdance:
aS gS SIRS Rae eee oe pcoscosd| Haeae a anere a Hee aeceEee hb thimkGe.. J.- 22e.=5.e25| To sing.
Pe SEB ASE ARCO Ooo dC oO) | Lae Cee Hac Hon ene bowels: 50 s22-ciss-see28-=)) Lovsleep:
eae atanm on Ieee ease eaen| Me eee ee eee, see eae frakUleecsssseacetslesssaira--l LO Speak.
Sac Sac bead Ssocce Gedo pecor| lesb essen esseeaeesncees brayikeeeecetes sees ase) LOSE:
bee ope So ae Sone C>0o DSoce la oe Pacoberoanermese WAIN: sco. -<-2se55--42--|' Lolove:
Jee RES aE Gono Bao CODE A EceE CanBeR eoterc teens DOK seas so Secsehs-se-se=s5|) Lokal:
SSeS eae SS COORDS SHOT COC E ACRE BCcce EAE EE Cooenne Holle ses = 2 ses Soe oe oe LO BIGe
20S BCD CACO BSE EER OI IE EEO] DESO SASSCOnn EE oedeaas mubtrike osc seea = eee e oe Lo stand.
Sao Spa cd Ge Se Bene anne tor | MASS eee an anAemeSeeses SHOk-IMS = ao ase s= as eee) LON;
Stis0 655s CaS Gtbo PAD COBURG IESE GSE ner somos Relelyoeasienso a= sos oaes ase |, LOxCOMme,
Ss ee etn) ee SO me hewatejcssocac aeetcsee cscs To walk.
SEO AC CS RESTA OH A6 ACD | FROME SES CO SEE SCeG) ME HO EN Sa San een To work.
aaa hele niet SeSara a ci eae | Moats in o'a/ ee ewe a Same | Mate = ae ee wos cee ae cs ee teet To steal.
See fenn seaine Naan eaten |e eae = araree so sen | Mowe ns See alsaeidles aot eres To lie.
Saale sila ain! tw alot antenna ae | Ia nea See cos aclsu sae sen acces ccsseqcessiect coves To give.
ae Seen eee eee | eee es iS ee Soe PCS By tito asa ceeacoal To laugh.
ewieiemminwele alawciatinalacer ean ae eyee i ese aaa aise arb) See elise a eiacles saad cance coeeck To cry.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
English.
To jump.
To have.
Head of arrow.......
Musket..
1. Yo’-kuts.
2. Wi'-chi-kik.
3. Tin’-lin-neh.
NU =bO eases we eteisieteel | nee = ae ae eee eee
to=kil' 522. 392 see | sboee eee ee ee eee eee
hO-MOb< Sse en (oose|-2 es sjeawewel canis ocieee aaron
O-s1My-e =e e alla eee ee eeeee ee
WO-hes-80b-\sosoe-)as)| poner eee ae eee eee
BEFI EG) meee eBay spocemc ama aaaoce 8 S6aa6
Wt Ui B OS OSES Aao 5 GOKh| |aAocao BSSSaO DAS SSS soabcane ae
kenya arose era eaisae es esereer oer
NA NAKSi-AebO esas Sas pantie qe sania eee
ni=webi .-|.c2 <0 sisnu| seectorsce se cctecestene. cee eee
heh=taml ee sales iste scenes saeco on eee ere
HOizNG es. ata. fae ae ae Sees eee te eee
pa-chu-sun ....-..- ieee Tene moe ee Slee eee
Bll-bel\ jock ees cease eee ee ceee Sate
mumbai. ots oe -tal | Seco cles set emsintsinisteere eee
SH U= Vio epee eteteteieclts Abpapoaap ounDedsesosseaeee
hu-yu-chull) 2325 :c5)||:casivelocr ste ssiese eee eeee
IGE Re eeamenu enon SsaanDOdoS casace AneGSe onanbe
cha-ti-mun' 25-2. aa: eee eee eee oreo eee
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 583
Yo'-kuts Family.
4. King’s River. 5. Coconoons. 6. Calaveras County. English.
SHC Chea GuanE ED CER CESS eearlinscmerice peeeeae ean | PHOSININ Nee cee e == NOLL:
GERAD ASSES REESE CRORE) PRCeEe ReecorEHoSaeors INTE Sega ciscsteeeoasoas| (stern:
SOU RC OP SSS Ee OER CH OSS Sned CnSHanEer cer core ates OM CiINNYssoese as eae eee baat
st ecoseeee dene = soe eent eee Coe aaa aeie/= = olan COPPLAM Gre oneal eens = loan VV eat
Lion.
Death
High
Sweet
Can.
To touch.
To stop
To fly.
To tight
To jump.
To have.
To call.
To want.
To hear.
To think.
Light.
Darkness.
Hail.
Plain.
Copper.
SoS Sa Sae addon Bond ce. co Gace |e eotecesoectoe asses Kacha-niccsenscscceusesisc= Gold.
Bekele seve enc ian salen Seem aniesesmeesesesienae tow-yichay .....--.-...---.| Herb.
> CeinowoeCoSeshSos cebecdo lsecandcdosccesocsodase POS-8C yee ooo = 2-2 soo) eleadiof arrow,
boobed Ssoe cSacesBesiot Gacchsse Geos cess eSacinsdoss trollUpi sews ecisew esas ss5|| Musiet:
SEO O ED CE CO ea Deedee SopCEn co Sosneccsescaoa|! WON COT pacssomscncodoasen|| Crmralarer ye
~poges toccst sovemorccedons alee eee ae sine ete eal WOKIS) aac tania Sorte eeeaee| PA COLDS
1605 sasecb nee 3605000 566855 |sccenasecses cme sseesee opputz ...-...----.---...--| Bread of acorns.
sododenbanestc coca csc aeca||aesenacoccecasedsotese DOKIS-< 22-2). -2ene)a-5-—-~-)-==)|| Mush of, acorns:
Se COE Cagcebenns San gocuas |Hacsossoseroeeoasas hatchamin...............-.| Oak-tree.
BSUeUS CARA so Reed e656 BSCE Cao ao aaeeaameeSanpeas Wal8) 5 -).--5.1.-s-—5-=-=--| Handsome)
Balaeieeataeie ta seins cose soncedesssessscecccces Pah=atZ) -< sae esac aoe ==2-| ULly.
Soe ais ae er Saiccseccleal Gulacee sc eceacceesen cess suk-u-ney -----.-.-..--.«---|) duclipse:
Saealese aemiocena<[occ ces cscs |sSeacecosescuceanstsses shuk-a-ni...............--.| Earthquake.
Saceerie sects cccecorientsess|sastescsocebceceaseess shun-nuk ......-........---| Mustard.
Se Salata ane rece aeieesinte soe saceeiee cw s-c'cisntescews'cs aportchaoa ....-..----..---| Oats.
Sawa aatene eeeisae oaioeanin see saiancaccossseciss secs s aususeh!..-----5-+. ---- -=.-|| Avelones.
Foe cota a seniors cisaesieneace | soe esanalcwsiesoesesese | NOY sccoceiaasemcieeccasne=- 5) Games
SECURE OD OCUO DUC CEHOCSH Bee c| EOshOs He Seee CaeBEDESre COW-Veliesscse == | Antelope,
584
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
English.
Squirrel (on trees)
River-otter
Ground-dove
Grouse, tuft-quail .---
Hawk
Turkey-buzzard
Vulture
River-muscles
Ground-sqnirrel ..-..]------
1. Yo’-kuts.
2. Wi’-chi-kik.
Grasshopper xy teseste4| sss. 4244-23 acces Se Soe es hae ere
3. Tin/-lin-neh.
a
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Yo'-kuts Family.
4. King’s River.
5. Coconoons.
585
6. Calaveras County.
hootez-a-ny!=--s2-,.s--==---
Dini 1 daceseneacuctmapticcs
Vima-nuky sso soeaset ese
(etal pennaie ce-a-see moe ee oe
NOs P eos) <=
Initch=wellaco- 2c.) 54." sao.
English.
Ground-squirrel.
Squirrel (on trees).
River-otter.
Ground-dove.
Grouse, tuft-quail.
Hawk.
Crow.
Turkey-buzzard.
Vulture.
Grasshopper.
River-muscles. H
God.
Wicked spirit.
MAI’-DU FAMILY.
1.—Kon'-kav.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at the Round Valley Reservation, Cali-
fornia, November, 1875, from Captain George and Charley Munson,
both Mai’-du. The word kon-kau is from ko'-yo, a level place, a val-
ley, and kau, ground, or place; the full original name being ko’-yong-
kau. 'The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
2.—Hol-o'-lu-pai.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers on Feather River, a little below Oro-
ville, Cal., in 1872, from an Indian of the tribe. The Smithsonian
alphabet was used.
3.—Na'-kum.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers at Susanville, Cal., October, 1875, from
an Indian of the tribe. The Smithsonian alphabet was used.
4,— Ni -shi-nam.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers on Bear River, above Sheridan, Cal., in
1874, from Paung’-lo and a Ni’-shi-nam woman, “Margaret”. The
Smithsonian alphabet was used.
5.—“ Digger.”
Obtained by H. B. Brown. It is No. 557 of the Smithsonian Collections.
The spelling has not been changed.
6.—Cushna.
Obtained by Mr. Adam Johnson ‘“‘in general from the tribe Cushna, on the
mountains of the South Yuba, California. It is, however, common to
586
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 587
most of the tribes inhabiting the upper portion of the Sacramento
Valley.” It was published in Schoolcraft, Part II, p. 494, from which
it has been taken.
7.—Nishinam.
Obtained by Israel S. Diehl, in 1854, at Placerville, El] Dorado County,
Cal., from Mr. J. C. Johnson. It is one of the Smithsonian Collec-
tions, and appears as written by Mr. Diehl.
8.—Yuba or Nevada.
Obtained by Lieut. Edw. Ross on Yuba River, a branch of Feather River,
California. It was published in the Historical Magazine of New York,
1863, p. 123, from which it has been taken.
9.—Punjuni.
Obtained by Mr. Dana on the western bank of the Sacramento River, Cali-
fornia. Reprinted from Transactions of the American Ethnological
Society, Vol. II, p. 124.
10.—Sekumne.
Obtained by Mr. Dana on the western bank of the Sacramento River, Cali-
fornia. Reprinted from Transactions of the American Ethnological
Society, Vol. IT, p. 124.
11.—Tsamak.
Obtained by Mr. Dana on the western bank of the Sacramento River, Cali-
fornia. Reprinted from Transactions of the American Ethnological
Society, Vol. II, p. 124.
588
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
English.
My daughter
My elder brother.. -
My younger brother
My elder sister. .--.
My younger sister-.
AnUIndiane es. ---1
Tongue
Teeth
Fingers
Thumb
1. Kon/-kan. 2. Hol-o/-lu-pai.
3. Na/-kum.
4, Ni’-shi-nam.
ye’-pim....-. cootse HOHLEG We 555056
kil 6h ce 8 sc cnet katie: -53.5c55%-
ye’-ping-ko’-leh ..-.| ku’-leh’.......--.
kiil/-leng-ko-leh....| ku’-leng-ko/-leh
MPVS PASAT oun||coses coeeacee eee
nik-ku’-leh .-.. ---- nik-ku/ leh ...--.
Mik-nehhecscses sees nik-net! -.-.--.2.-
Nikeveapelie nate cecs| pacer sasce eee
nik=konohtisscc.-|sace cavsones esses
nik-ko!-lehyss-sict -a||sssaceeooeet wwceee
mik-tu/-turkul-letes||seeeeaeeeeee pesos
Mikakeht esc e enna nen/-no-pem . ..--
nik-tu’/-neh -....--. nik-tu/-neh ....-.-
nik-ket/-teh ...---. Dikckotlssss- eee
mik-kan (a eee = asc a/-mu pem. ...-
MIal-dehigs senso esl| sate ieeeeee eee
kim/~pal-leliscee 2a] eciecte a seine sina ne
O/ANUM! 2 = see sein 2 oOfnUM eee eee
Cane itl Sheces| soos es us ence oosens
daskomliiee . stn s alt Seemann nas
BLU ENEM = sec oSsce| see ces Mi seceienciee
o~EnohPesseeeee es bofenoliese==steee-
hisneheeeses ane ess hifsneheesee =a esas
si/-u-muh.....---.. Shue NO essere
kom/-bohis--e2 seer komo} se-eeiese
GENT ccmcse wese ccwe OM) oaeerseace coos
te-Bi=wabl cscaece-- cha/-wah' -..---.-
BIM-PaM-Ml see ene ese lsace sekeem ea
Walyis.22s-222-ce4 aes oeee se eeeee
AWKETN Regeaso S66 ae0| Seen eesee rae Ane
Bt ee aeasaera scar Mah. s-.2< ==. --<--
nik-pom
nik-n/-so
nik-et/-t
nik-kah’
mam/’-chip
/
CM wece nnn
nem’/-mam........
bi’-tsim/
lu‘-lu-mem
na-nah’
ka-mih’
ni’-shi-nam
kul/-leh
nik-yi’-up
nik-kiil’-leh
Hik-t-laih("s222 ene
Mik-pom! eee
nik-keh’
en .-
cho/-wah
mos’-sus
ku’-i-suk
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
589
5. “Digger.” 6. Cushna. 7. Nishinam, 8. Yuba.
Mi-dUlksa=- == =e wOOly,iwOO-lel(4) sa. |ecccseaeaite esa as|| ease ccs n eee a
Iuilsteee sates 2/sc~) a= mohala-----: 5-225. mahala.....--.---- Kutless oaee
Mat-eN = ssccees=o WRK OF tao seemietie aa e||\cse semicacls saree se- cel -beetmewe cats sine
O-Mail cess sse= os 4= Clee ree seca sen|| oe cos saawioe a sos also cade cosas same.
Shweta sasceecs Swciess licehyosse eset seco |teaa notes ceee ete sess|Secccts Seek oneeees
nik-ta (father) .--... nick-a (father). .--. MIGHtAEsS sseeese ie el|eos ac aloce acetates
Dik=nai (Nomen) s---\emunie (mothen)= —-=--| MIKHa - s22- 2-25 2---||-s0-ccle nee aanese
Sno asacsoctocoss bees CHE Sossseoicseccal| Ch oeh5 quauéecnaa|ldaesopcocucoucdoar
SORBED EE OOS A BSOnIOSIS Gapliy (GOD) seso60cr6|pacreoeese saaneactios||cooscoossaco.cessce
We rereccemoebec nic-ta (brother). .... elmana BI Scea a eel pao tiececleneewesee.
BHRIECRY, soserosteorl se Jac oos Besa cosoance pattu (sister) .----.|----------<-------
peceeh odessa sess lec6 Mie-ic ke eee eee ee | PDINChiNnONeaess ses aceeeaeeciaine saat
Chole ease ane Choleseeer on sesisice,: ehole@is,.--2- cross. AOU «coe aecbecees
hon-ner or hon-na@-..| 0-no..------------- ANS oo 5656 Sone cose ONUn Ee osaetsaeee
sce DO SCORER boCO BESS Jah CoO Masao setea | Metsettate sec loericiee ce cl|(Sace = atenciclemsseesee
acin, ce BSCOO SER IQOE DoS FOS MIM eee ase alse eee aieie ciate seiaisio so nicisteic Oa ee
[Meleaee Qpeoobes=rd bono. se scssseee BONN Os saeeae ee ase eee sais ew nee
Bi=We .so8cses-nioe- UNI See eee cabo cree WL eee cease ened Mesh esosersaCemeS
KO-lehecesicesee sas COURS soccer = ea Kalle eecers reer k6len se cascecoes
Peete seeiae = alesis fEhe-nimM! seo 2 aoa. H lessons woscesecicueee =| SOMBID sacs nossa:
Gui Soesett codaraes OND sess sedascs Sesh |qawisce esac soe cases:
GHOMRaR sos s,55= teha-wa ...--..-...
feaees oe ce sceansis MOSUB <).s<\s2-csn5<%
NORTH Sseepeaseseece tehu-chock ....-.-.
Wis seen esoSsa sere yim, mush-a-wah -.
MAliameeawais veers] | Man bee-ChO scene =
buk-ka-la/-la ..-.--. Hi! oe seckcoasaboc
WAG )SeBoc6s osS55e pitch-r, bet-chee,
tche-be.
BORSA SOLE OO SODS EOS VOGELO GED) 588 lesocec csescreieciod 6a) |ocmess bation beds seb
sacl decat Bos bool |opeoes Po Dee USE eSp6] eecederepnoct rcs gos gomgom ...... ..
nouSrocbenow pobSceor lari b UPI Ss epoca| MeN ss ooocecoons|| boccucbonseesecee
Paleo ose en DIES (Plas eose oe pais parses eee leo peeaceadesee
beach, bee-tche ....
English.
Man.
Woman,
Boy.
Girl.
Infant.
My father.
My mother.
My husband.
My wife.
My son.
My daughter.
My elder brother.
My younger brother.
My elder sister.
My younger sister.
An Indian.
People.
Head.
Hair.
Face.
Forehead.
Ear.
Eye.
Nose.
Belly.
Female breasts.
Leg.
Foot.
Toes.
590 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
English. 1. Kon/-kau. 2. Hol-o/-lu-pai. 3. Na/-kum. 4. Ni/-shi-nam.
Bone: cccs-.5eo-------
THINS 66c650 onoc| soa seddosavoosansead||seaecnocca sosedeSe
Be See ninine = eetaee Elnpeicn. “(Hanae | en ane cnoeccecaces
Spanish.)
GOA MB esdas5 Goode LOE NES pea bacn| leseciceco ao C sO sEee
GLENN CS BSG cob so4| SEBS casa sotees bono) [68 SS cobSen coca eacs
ok-pi, su-eie ...-... OUD semiese seco ee '|||s leelviorcos saecie ass
pambo, pami-bo-cans} pombuk -..---. ---- méden)-2-- se) = 7
GPW Sconesaeoosscee MOLOMOIO: 2 ones as)||easeecitew ee ae aee
HOCANE) cesses osedes|[sasc65 soos ceases! SeoaaSeoceessedeos
NGOS seh po Sebel Wobeea SSpeEaeeso sesd AapeaapoeSacnosoeod
WHINE, Sesecaess-|lccosasossass st54 oa6:|[Seacho ceeoosbooncs
HAMS Ne a esl she Sso Ses Scne5 ooucds||Scace Concesssdaae
/
[ESP icc osce coos Sone We (6) )San6 d4 Soe||beraso sea s4 aoke:
Ge werececo cance UO eee sos cocecone laseoDae aonrcoesoo..
INiitee cect osemep 165 CEN Ie Be poss ee cue) saccae Gcacoa do naa.
man-an-de,mau-mee}..--..<--=---..----- alot hes ssdeee =
HROn ODORS SHeO DOLCE BWSR soos soe o.cc cea aa cane esscceene
Bets Cee eoeesos eoeal Geeeeeecce ce sese aod (SSS eSomeneemneer
Chief.
Warrior.
Friend.
House.
Kettle.
Bow.
Arrow,
Axe, hatchet.
Knife.
Canoe.
Moccasin.
Pipe.
Tobacco.
Sky.
Sun.
Moon.
Star.
Day.
Night.
Morning.
Evening.
Spring.
Summer.
Autumn.
Winter.
Wind.
Thunder.
Lightning.
Ice.
591
592
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
| English. 1. Kon/-kan.
Walle yies= == scam
lerhiicvc anne cokeee
Hill, mountain. .---
Velan dian seteatesa
Stone; rock --- 22-2:
Saltci- concn etre
Wtonaee esa
HOLestsaeserm anes
IBeavericcae. ceases
Rabbit, hare. +... -..
Montoises---2se2-2-
IMPs cscosoocod Sos
MET ae Kon sne casas
Ik0f-¥Oh) coos. Sao e =
UNG nooner cosees
Yal-ma-ni. 5.522 6---
mo/-ming-koi-o -.--
Onc cnce wow worn cose
Dah eeeete see ee
pant=nor- couse
wech-to’-pum......
,
lA Al ge esnes AaSeee
tu-pen/-neh ...-..-
OS!skeb)-.ascennsse
oct 2a see sene
was-sa/-ku-teh -.-...
shoolahwecsseoees-
yeng’-ku-teh ..---.
pak-pak’-ka ...--..
Veleonerotiee nae
yéng’-kel-ko.......
lak/-ka ..)--288=<5-
hatemaeeeesr esses.
2. Hol-o/-lu-pai.
3. Na/-kum.
4. Ni/-shi-nam.
ko=yoh!s--c2.)2e- ee
ta-tang’-ko-yoh’ . ..
ya-man’-neh .--.---
sang’-ku-sim-. .----
hu’-mum-chu’-ka. ..
fede tiene eee ee ne
cha-tal=- = -/-a=c- cha’/-pa, cha/-ta -...
chahv eee ices- Cha each
su/-bumbhlese- eee. Chg So. eee
vist sual eilseaeeeoeee Dakets 223 Yesocteoee
ka-pu/-meh .... -.-. kap/-puh:..........
PO=pO kes s-eyeeeee POSPOR steee eee
bu’-bum-cha..-.---- iOn (nut-pine) .-.--
SU-MLM\-4-— ee MES Peep oosene seas
sam bso 25 5 2sSaasse BUDS oieceeeoee
ManteObiseeee ete as kap!=pawa.aetsfeeee
hel-li/-i-meh -..-.-. dap -pelir aeons see
YOS KO Desir - scan ee eseeeoees
BOWED os 0056 soncnos|loneSsaccsonbosss 6550] Seasc6 toon ochoosse
MUCK COBalinc se ee snes acter lee aelseielseeeeelsa onic eecee
tu-tu, see-reete..... MNnechanitecee sales | tas setlec se cates ees
IGEBIGE) So5ccc.osoocs|lonocaeAsosos Sosa. coca lbooncatréosoncocst
el-emano)~.-22--.---- yipminna (old man)-.|.....-------------
sSubeeDO SOU SUSHIODOS e-1 (young man) -...).... -----. ---.----
WAD-NEM| eee ieee- WeNNUM! 2. 125--c-|5-sos- see e~seneese
WAS-SUM) -csse'esc|\seacem so ice sasss eos. |\coscesesccse sae cae
Pn Ets SSS poseecca bOsesoeech codec Scsae| asses ne osbecanscs
[MUNG Soo cso6oSeS6e {OH SosesaSGceo Sese||Soosccesseosessuec
MICK=0y- saeswe eas ouri(d6si,20°me)----|| MUKis = eee
MINK ys - scenes OSbG wos) e sre =e minkis-s- sesso"
MEO-GAM ac meee ere secciness soysa soe jeer | eae seance ee steer
we cect ececcccce coeeee|ecence eons caus seers UU ieee etait eter!
ee omy tenareace wees hunaddwke 2.22 cote Pas eek eee
her-rosd a saee sal Seeeinee sce saelee ese cisee||sececiecen sscacteees
bul-e. 25 25-ee heddemkwi.,- <=. .52-\|-sssaes cece ese
tu-chin-o -.-------- yokotobil <<25<.22-.|ssssseesseueeee==
Eee nee toe eles a Mokushih esses seul sosseeese see
Wwic-tem): ---.)------ Wittacosessessser)| sasoessececee eee
Pan=lM esses =-i VER Soc Sco maacdon 66 SaccocoeSonatesecias
|KSAaD=U=1M sae =) ssle =~ chopnit=-snessaseea|peocsasa eae sce.
iiCOMsiMe sees aaa Chtiss2 cssssccessee|tascssseccess-ose>
English.
Name.
White.
Black.
Red.
Light blue.
Yellow.
Light green.
Great, large.
Small, little.
Strong.
Old.
Young.
Good.
Bad.
Dead.
Alive.
Cold.
Warm, hot.
if
Thou.
Ye.
They.
This.
That.
All.
Many, much.
Who.
Far.
Near.
Here.
There.
To-day.
Yesterday.
To-morrow.
Yes.
No.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
596
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
English.
Thirty
Sixty
Ninety
To dance
To sing
Mojpleeperccsseciceas
To speak
To come: .-4#2..-=5
To walk
To workeeacssessce
To steal
1. Kon/-kan. 2. Hol-o/-lu-pai.
3. Na/-kum.
ma-cha/-neh -.--.--
sai/-so-ko
pen-nem/-bo
s’u/-yi-so-ko
ch’e!-ni-ina-cho-ko: .||.-=.-----=0-------
ma’-cho-ko
wu’-kem-no-ko-....
mai’/-dek-wuk-ki - --
ina-chok’-ti-pen/-ni-
ma.
pen/-ni-ma..-....-.
m a-chok-ni-shap/-
u-ma.
‘Sal'-Cho-k0-M@ 2-s=2iscosce cence cee
pen-nem’-bo-ma....
ch’e’-em-ma--.--.----
chiei=em=ho-maes- slo -oaeceee eee aces
ma/-suk-na-sit/-ti .-
ma/-suk-na-pin/-neh
pin’-neh-ma-suk’ - ..
tsa/-pem-ma-suk’ ..
chu’-i-ma-sik’
mA/-wu-kem-ma-suk’
sai/-chu-kem-ma-suk’
wel-lai’-no-dih ....
wet-em/-duh.......
sOl-duheseeseeeo=e
tsa-doh! =. 2-2 -isece
ku-i-dak/-kuh.-...-.
wo-no’-tid-uh
bis’-kin-u-duh -.---
tis’-woi-a-duh...--.
i-no’-duh
ped-a’/-doh
hal’-loh
4. Ni’-shi-nam.
ma/-chum wak’-teh.
ma/-chum pen . -.--
Wit/-ta-pa ..------- .
ma/-chang-wat-ta.. |
pen-ap’-pa.---- 2...
pen-ap-pen- i- ma/-
chum.
sa’p-wi hap’-pa .-..
sa’p-wi hap-pa ma-
chum.
an/-ik-to-to ..-...--
WON -ipisco-e «=i
nos’-kit
bo-kit/-tup
yen’-neh
he-we’-eh.........
u/-yem
~~
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 597
Mai'-du Family.
5. “ Digger.” 6. Cushna. 7. Nishinam. 8. Yuba. English.
mar-kun\- == 2-5- mark-um ...-..---- MARR asecsiessose cos ascetics Five.
tim-bum. ---.-.----- tum-bum .......-.. fumbo cesses scenes ee ae == eee eeeeee Six.
top-wim. ..--+----- tap-u-im ...... -.-. 100) 0) 1 ie eo) (eae eer Seven.
pen-trim -.-------- pent-chim -.-...--.- WEAN osses se css] booose coescumseses Eight.
pel-i-omi-==-------- pel-lom);o--=--5--=- chu-embors ses= 2 >4-|seonse= se soars 2 ee Nine.
mar-chum ..-....--- match-im ..... .... TOW) 1) cesncanssase Ten.
AGH UM WK LEME |e seas eee nealsce seal sates e oleae Eeiencs| Sees eae eee see Eleven.
TARA EAN S) | oa eos oe maceon meas |sae ss Sooossne sseces| |Soencs Seos-ceso see Twelve.
Twenty.
panem mar-chum
sap-prim mar-chum Thirty.
Forty.
Fifty.
Sixty.
naonop soc gece sogese||seoess e495 s5esecsase|Looees ssecec eseqses5||oossaao8 «---------| Seventy.
Eighty.
Ninety.
One hundred.
One thousand.
sascioe gousestooencoe|| TE onsSecoedeeceen)|| WAS Gait dase s4s55| seeecoessecocossen|| MENGE
moh. ..... sisecnoscn||S55ec¢ SSoacaso assees||Eseeeato sSece scat To drink.
daky soo 250 sss. (s3. (GY 6, Bae eeo FEE HROCSSE ERS Cob Set ceed Sta =co See Beano apes To run.
HEGRE RESDS EOC OOOO Ae yo-mo-sha, cum-e ..|.-------------------|------------------| To dance.
xeomesse Ot eee: B85 enc Ses ccdeeno Ganb Saesee Se Sadcaeemsascaeta| | ARN ye
HMA oSeen ote Ssa.eS56 SU-CO eee alee alae UN eeceo sons Goad |ASASSocsaeao SSASSs To sleep.
(NE) Neuer oeeces cas-ti-ca..-.-..-.-. UG cp eseanome C&S] |Posese Sooaes cSacee To speak.
hin Chin=esyo- eles ate vo syeeeniascece ene wAkinup! (look!), | To see.
wakinup ak-
winti! (look well!
seek!).
To love.
To kill.
To sit.
To stand.
URW) Eacecen detec ORIN ses ascc cece cal) WOE coSeenseanese yuikwoi! man- | To go.
nup! (go! get!).
ope or upe-.---.--.- o-lep-pa! (come here!)| upi..-------------- sheleppi! ----.-.-- To come.
WAW-NOY <---ss=c--|—- COBB G SAAC ae GRCe BAe OE AONOSE- a OBS 5 ean ners Bio
MUR AC he tocncse 3c lsooeoS Cree CHOOSE eo] PooCCO EOS ACOSO Bn Ob ol ISaoSbo co Copanssccd
Pere ee ere een | ae emt asia ates cee tanhalis ose se so | secee eee eee) LO p work.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Mai'-du Family.
English.
Mhighine sf see ee
Shitkcwsscee eee eee
Pantaloons|]se---sss ==>
JEG) Ena dood Honenbdon-
Dried apples------..----
IPine-Nuts=-- ease eee ae
orem ent see
Sheep, sces eas -c so -eeessees ae tsi-lekh’.
MDA ACH ae aces ete teel == see tse’-yu-tsi.
MUsNACH Hae eens see eee cee eee nu-na/-tsa.
Micnti-wech(-asjsc soemce seo e eee ee ni-nu’-tsa,
Lita wih(eeces estos se aeeesesee eee ti-tsa-mu/-tsi.
Uh CUM aN gecse em ancien ti-lu-me’, t’lu-me’,
It-1-d-wi'-Chays.----t-2-e2 sees eae tse-lek-ti’-i.
it=1-S-wi'-chail ssca-6 sees! see eeete soe tee-ee’.
it-u-mo-mik’-i-chan ....--..-----. tu-a-ee’.
GU pa Wwilte re aeletam = alee ele = teh-hu-chee’, gee-wee’.
a-tun!=Ch Bene o- see = ease eee si-nah/-tchuk’.
Wisa=tSal-ON\ sen seo teeeoea nine = o-pis’-tse-na-chuk’.
O-NUN-GWa eee cose e oer eee eee eh-noon’-tcha,
WBS ses ote ee cles ce Selesesiocws ish.
NA=Mis|-Sa=ISSsecee stance ccs neSe mee
lane. Sas seetascee. ten seeeneees Jaach.
WWieMlay cocnas doeone Sone cease GoSoce tee-yee’.
FECT) RE ee MAR PB SLD AE Be mis-shoot.
hd). cenbag coéese esas p-oesedsocec s’mits-tah’, s’mit-stah’.
is sab scscs case csoosoeeccctesees wis-shut’.
CISH-AUbIN oe wee ens sano aces as-sah’,
YAM MD eee aeyoeem ee saten selene ya’-mee.
AP ie cetera ste cieis es ninteaimclelsiaeceyesce up’h.
ph Glinceode. Sesto Eee - ee ip-lib’, ip-lee.
tS. oSampscestss coer aeee ee eee tesa
ti-la-kom!‘-chi............--------| ti-la-koom’-tsi.
hal-lok! 2. joao ccatesugiees eee hal-loke.
IES Eee Rerncccuaces cooodeogSsSes|| Jas Telit,
Hn, Sw SSmanonseocssoneserosccocsee||| TAL
Mel eteahe teas e-cnseeee fo see cass ko’-pah.
fai WW OUCH ncersasaj sete sere
KOp=wahjo.cesc-2-Sene ee seee ome a-wee’-tsa.
(Qa oh NN seberes enone cosas oncase pi-noke’.
RUSISU Se os ee sem eed ieee oer
S00) Ie eee tig Ac anon aaaaascaaSsS
IED Wn ace gaksieco CCpOEESOSSS5 Sec
GRRE SoSc85 ep5ges sage ceonaaaoss a-di-twa’.
UO SEV 7G) eee SSorpeemrncon eee coc tsi/-kwa.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 603
A-cho-ma'-wi Family.
English. 1. A-cho-mé/-wi. 2. Lutuami.
WORE cass enseco ses gebbsano oS06s5 WEEE NaS Ae ONS Borieingos bios sabeee ko/-pa.
Bonereaeaties--salee- cle sane er al/-la-tih .....--. esd Scoeee DaECOS tsu-tsi.
IEE 6 coon Conosd bos Coda pee GSee ha-dat-chte-smesrinane racine sayae sane had’-a-tchee’.
TG Bese age ESS csecaue ae Cees PIED ses coe. ASsgGaceT StS MACCeSCE a/-ha-tei a/-ha-ti.
Town, village..--....---.---- S655]! SIGE W ENS oscenossecen csase5 06 oe
(Clie Ans gen aan ahead aneeon bass Wa-hel/-l0-Ghinh <= - scien es0 --- wa-heh’-loo-tsan.
\WERIOO? Scosaqceubesecodaucte cose tate. Wwar Chiat -sfencmnae ostatee siaels ha-bis-po-heh’-loot-san.
Riven deseo erise ec cee co wetem conte UWEIP ER GINGS aaesiqnca5 poSb Sea cece i-tu-da-kam’,
FOU SG meee ee nis eels seee fae eee as pul ehiestes essai ciara a-poo’-li.
eth On-eemee ni cnenc ee eeoaricasees tsat-pa-pu’-kuh ....-.-...-...----| pa-poo’-ka.
BO Wiese ce cet on seeteneeoneoctins kol-sehieas ae ataciaae sienna cre cise koo-see!.
Arno Weise cies emeses aoa ariemon Nasi-sal-Kkehisonteieseeiese Von eyo la-pualer,
AO Mate AO ties eam seren eo ceae erate, tso-ka-ta-ke’-i-seh .......-- ..---- ko-ta-tish.
Knifersscacece eon cseertceicccas Babee aeereccclswenwa = saceeee a Shatsnote
Wane). hate s-j2 eae) dense “chee: GERSON Copsoce coqteycgancocsescel| ERO SN6
MOCCASIN tase a io = ane = a ana ki-la’-luh ..... Sabu GHeahS S=cGecEs khe-la/-la.
IBTG) acoacabecoonen poaSeneEDOSces SOs cosmes ascmeecooeas casas ----| Skwut’.
HODAC COM eee nee aie a eer OOM - 55 osto osoocd soap oecESs uctoae ohp.
SEVe aoe code omee na sc-semeene ESAAMOM sce esc owe sfennclosec.c coe
hatbieo. conc st /saee eereee eee Sees bik/katss se eteesscescietemmew ee
JNU See cbiaseas SORCaAD SA Sane dol!slole Sos sesacocecemeecestictes
WOVE The Ne Saeretodes see Saenee Ko ki-UC hese -aeeoaiae ime teee eta
WihOye csr sas elcro ses eae tassios Se Is-whal/-leh < s25 3 sssse:)-sscies----
WERE Sos ones oSbaanoomassecacesene MO Ws pagers pomescebanbasopo Sanus
1 GW ieseinne saonebasea ae cess err MU-ya-Din=ihn- - so cease eae ees
1S GW?) Sine k coaorn cae cus aaeads ooaeor HEE oseakn mops oapkosasce Sanne
Therevacsosen-esee lees cess acess Diewalbecde soe abet ree eee
Mo-dayieee = 2s-{-eeasse sean tens UHL AEs aoe con Aceon Hou coecesoeer
WeSLOLOR Yee se piesio asian cise es MIS {SiN ors yes slsaera st see er
MRO=MOITON ta joeioaeaacise st sciesi ee No Sie 6 5-58h coonco ecco cost sass
WS Het Shoe es eee poo Bene seeasee LEC Ms ESS Sash ooenbp eae socos
N@ Gecgecanseoss eatecoccesesoosede tSUSS/=0-Welae sae sa eases eee
One eee eee annie ees ea libait Greil a eoch pans Ge SASoes
WO weeaetac meee) seerenena-teaceee LPP ee ess geobensacasd csunoodsesa4
DO ie Soe Rca C ner COS SoSH ene chas{-tehWeeesaepise seem ee ieeater ee
ROU Bieta sae eitciaciaise(a telsiaeerono LEST -meanbsocenoSEdea bascer
JOG) psbege Spode menodsS cops aberse [RE Nepaeen sone acs eeeEne sacoad
S855 5500 ASHER ee ep capa Bese seesee ma-SHU Ceres saeey= aia Aon eee
SENG sna sey soo aae Aes aaaoee nace ha-Kkucho. ofa cee neekooeeeeiacses-
2. Lutuami.
hau-gi-tehi’.
ach-te’.
sum-ta/-lu-i-tan-tsi’.
wawah.
tsoke’-tsa.
i-pa’-tse.
ta-kai-yu-tso’-lo.
pa-ma-shwa-gi’-mi.
tu-she’,
a-la-ho/-kwo-shi.
ti-yu-me’.
as-tsag’-0-i.
as-tah’-ke.
ee-tits-zo.
mee-mool,
to’-lool.
kum, kuchm.
pa’-la.
loke-mi.
ha-mis-kum.
hakh.
tehas’-te.
ha-ta’-ma.
la’-too.
ma-shoots’.
mas-ish’.
606 COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
A-cho-md'-wi Family.
English. 1. A-cho-mf/-wi. 2. Lutuami.
Io A paseo econosbecd cassonDEeS ha-ta-me-lil’ -....--.-.--.---.---- mal-osh’.
INin@ MS Se.250 oc eeccasefeeeescmces ma-lish/-i-ha-miss-an'-chi ....---. lat-0-a-to/-mi.
TON sas 2. s2sacweiscxtaen tee snecceee marlush(-sis: -ss-sjsssencsooesseee hat-o-ma-to/-mi.
DOVONl esac asec ieoecl- ee acer: MOISh- abn /-MmiNe eset eee ae ha-gohtsh’,
MwelVesacsconcse ce ceecnaiecee eee ha-ka-to/emih=-sjesecie sees soe
Twenty) cq sa cssesoseere ee sieas= pla SWISH ses eoreiaaas(eetoo eer eas
EEDITGY maciciso oe telencoe nese aceon ma-shish’-ma-lish’-i.......--.----
Portyyecacsaccosejseeeeae-eeeecace hal-kil-ma-shish’. ....-......-----
Biftytoscscoseseaceeckeseees eens hal-kil-ma-liish’-si -...--.-.-..---
MBH if erioobede.ccee GsaScu eas nepeds chas-til-ma-shish’ ..-....-.....---
Moileat.ccn-<= Salsa Renoare cece omeaes tan-Mihiesseseaseeeees San aac ta-mi’.
Pordrink’ .ssseseacls sc cceccjestsees VighWeessanesss nssosd ohne oSencS S05 ti-shi’.
MO WUM -.<.ccscetesss See wiuaneccss Ga=ho-mih -. sss. scclerssesaceee tu-hum.
Toldance:.-.sssce-2sescccs=\osecse he=kal/“lehi-5 2 -jsececlasissevicaseos teh-ka/-le.
DOG oer aleeitiec seuss ec sete ce Geshi-Oleeer ancl aetceuscscseiecises tes’-shi.
TTNSIGED es nocaieaacenindeloecere ees tu-mat!-tehi. 2.2. sc scecncoecice ces. tu-maht’,
Moyspeakyoasewecrasineseie eaten ee WRITE) Sase55 660000 se55ke casocc tis-sha’.
MOIBEO Aree acnisee cinnicie cs easeunseee barl“aCWs. = ates occkcpneelfococeices ti-ni-mahtsh’.
Mowlovesces s-aceeteeo eet ease cese al-lel-a’-teh........-- Ee ee eee ke’-sal-li-lakt.
Ponies > oceisente. aloe wsceteawe anes detiawehea- oases caaeeecieeatssen a le-heh-tua/-twa.
MOS schcse esse so saeaeeericcece Gueskimchiiqeoe css sec eee eee tu-skint.
Tostand: sseoecseaccocenesaeenlacce dat-sa/-wach.........-..----..--.-| ta-tsa/-wach.
INV EO cocesocoeensns noscass gaocec IVS CUS ce coe Gosecuenos cescoone tope-teh’.
TOlCOMOsocscedee < Sac ee ee ecw esos t= sos ecejaece rama se ceareneines teh-no’, tei/-no.
Toswallk scesccmsceesuscsene we ses tan-kesmihies coc secssscoeee eres
Atle) WOES poncconscocs oseeadasséede tea lem ihe elem aeons tees
Wotstealos-sessecs soa se een eiseee den=wal-miheecssences seers ee
SHAS’-TA FAMILY.
as
1.—Shas-ti’-ka.
Obtained by Mr. Stephen Powers, at Yreka, Cal., in 1872, from a number
of men and women. The Smithsonian alphabet was used. :
2.—Shas-te.
Obtained by Lieut. Edw. Ross, ‘‘at the ferry on the Upper Klamath River,
California.” The orthography conforms to the original.
3.—S hasta.
Obtained by Lieut. (now Gen.) George Crook, at Fort Lane, Oregon, May
7, 1856, and is No. 277 of Smithsonian Collections. It was translit-
erated by Mr. George Gibbs, in No. 300, into the Smithsonian alphabet.
The latter number is used here.
4.— Shasta.
Obtained by Lieut. (now Gen.) W. B. Hazen on Rogue River, Oregon. It
is Nos. 280 and 301 Smithsonian Institution Collections. The spelling
has not been changed.
5.—Shastie.
Reprinted from Transactions of the American Ethnological Society, Vol.
Il, p. 98, and the following alphabet is there used:—
aas ain mat, mart, father, all. Guttural sounds, egh, ekki. None
ease in met; ain mate; ay in may. either in English or French.
iasiin pin, machine; ee, ea, in meet, meat. th as th in thin.
© as 0 in not, no ; 0, ow in toe, tow. ala as th in this.
tas wu in bull, full; oo in boot, fool, foot. jas 2 in glazier ; s in measure.
(Sheva) w (italic), as win fur, burn, hut, gas g in go, give.
dug, dull, cut ; ein her ; ¢ in sir. h, w, b, p, d, t, f, v, H, mn, Ba, Ir, 8,
Nasal ng (italic), as ng in sang, sing, song, | ska, kk, as in English.
long, tongue.
607
608
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Shas'-ta Family.
English. 1. Shas-ti’-ka. 2. Shas-te.
WG Senecoecs o’-dik-a ...-.-. Ish... ..s2-s5e=%
Vivontil saeseo|) OLANAN, Bee S—sleosses osecce oooe
Bi saacceoecs chulekaeesencme na-hon-a-he’-a .
Girlleecec eens) | ewal-Chekhie ens |esercecerc sea
Mnfantiaseseriseeacteri= seen ates fe ale teeks alent
Father ........ Seba L apace anal asa iciaeieetes
Mother -.----. WOE Ell 5-56 S655|Eesecnoess oasson
Why oA <5) |seanos aossen S5o5| emo sonaco 5oSees
Wii Sabie) oS 506||poeenonssosa acen||Soccca seacor sens
Sie Gasoss Serollesecce cons oosene|lese set ceccecicced
Dario hterweses) | see = eee == totaal lente em ete
Brother... =<: kal lizwatenswen|ecciscisneelenae a
Sister ......-.. a-CHM\-Kilgeeteeel| pee ee eee ees oe
JANES yay asso pen oseusak lscoooy cc caco.osac
Head: w=s\.2-25 chay-rai.=-5-% in-navhs sees
IEP Seeee cee in/-nah :-...2.: itt-chik 2--=--;
LORY) sash. snc un-nip’-so-kik.| Ovi.-.-.--..--
Morehead. s-4|\ssscssa2ssonccee oo-nabk’......-.
1H oseos seo- 1S “SOBs as aoe ish-ahikene y= ae
LOM eloasoecos5- Wan Gecscoeso- OO eo cee cea.
ING@SGh cess cosll|iGliscoocseas S600 yahm-nah ..-..
Mouth ...-.-. AW soscaslnnnecs Mpphiesseseiere=
Tongue .-..-... an/-nah -.-.-.- ip-huah .....--.
eethteeseser RCH Oveeeest= ei it-chukg ..-.-.
Begidisaeme erie aisteci teeter oh-cho-choh .- ..
INGO Kc cece cals sntetotecie ener th=kohik sec - =
EMG TWEE AES coce| (RecseC ancora scae um-chah’tr .-.-
Hand .....-.. ap’-kah .......| up-khah....---
JPR HS: 56.cco~ ||inoooocebocies best up-khah....-..
Watls): 25 a2|Sococcme etalon yah-rah-ha -...
ISN sosoScned|loancas cscs secee: itsh-it ........
LS Soecee dor lascocunsdces ene unno-wun -....
INOW Senos scce looaeec case toncce uk-guush....-.
A NST eeco cose loooeas caaoaa.oscd one .oSea0o0boscd
LBL Tic cect Secs lope scateoacoDedal lbsecodosocIbascce
1RIGETES Gocco Gel |ESocus SaoSasiebce|lasunouSocacsbosc
Blood: Sas scG| te sese cece cs acca ccsccclsecetoemnee
Town, villages |cecees seo aas coe cso cess go
3. Shasta.
4-wa-tik-n&
ser-ri-chi.--....-
yu-po 4-wA-tik-né
yu-po ser-ri-chi -.
yu-po ot-ta ..-...
yu-po ai-ya-ke . --
ko-wik-ki-o
op-po
au-hwi-chu-chuk-
as-kaes cases =
o-kwa-da-hum-ma
ko-wa-ha-he
kwish-mem-pa. .-
ka-di-sha
4, Shasta.
a-wa-tee-qua -.--
kit-tai-kath-ya --
lu-quoi’h-ya -....
ke-ah-ho-i-ee-ya..
ye-a-hoo-ai-yat --
mutsh-yu
muth-kha
kit-ti-bee-bit ....
tu-tritsh-a-ku-bit.
me-tu-gut-yah - -.
up-pa-yurk
ep-put-u-ee ...--.
up-put-u-fur. -...
up-put-ye-wish -.
Charro) Sssessfee=
hurt-ser
up-ka, tich-ka(?).
ed-a-qua.-....-.-
ar-rot/-sah
ar’-ro-weh
uk-kwus
ko-ko-heh-riich .
e-nee-hook-a-
miuc’h-tie’h,
you-mee-see
a-quar-a-um/-ma -
5. Shastie.
awatikva.
taritsi.
milatkhi.
niak.
inakh.
chéna.
apka.
akhbusik.
akwes:
ime.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
Shas'-ta Family.
609
English.
Housez=.- 6s. -
Kettles: =.==2-
Axe, hatchet. -
Imiferss co
IE Gia seaseses
Naphti<-.=-1=-
Morning .....
Evening..-..-.
Spring ....-..
Summer ......
Autumn ....-.
Thunder - ..-.
Lightning ----
Walleyi- s2s-c2
1. Shas-ti/-ka.
2. Shas-te.
ik-i-am/-mi ....
i-dach’-u-mo - --
kah-in-irruk . --
ihekaritecost..ce
Ik-Kuie.=-2-- =.
ut-shuhk .-.-.---
ko-peruk ....-.
teho-wahr - ..--
3. Shasta. 4. Shasta.
UM-Ma, .------: cha-mum-ma ..-.
hau-cha-hi-dak ..| yup-pook-o’h-tos -
HOn-Oeee ee ee eee KOWs.ss-etiee ee:
onus eee eee Och=kilPseeee eee
hun-ni-it -....-... on-nich-if -..---.
i-ka/-dikh ...-.-. ich-kur-ry -.:-2:-
ik-wistencees secs ich-why ~ .2.: ----
hut-cha---2.--s-- ut-chebtsh or
chabtch.
Wp-BNObseseecie ssi Mi-Sucheer ewan.
O2Wal etieeeloee O=Waiceeereaseiee
kwa-bo-wa .---.. e-pah’-ko ..--.. --
it-chi-wut ...-.-. cho!-wot-..-.. ----
it-da/-to-sn ..-.-. up-whot-su -. .---
kautch-chi-e-mo .| huk-weh-soot ---.
Ot-Chil se -<2 cones uk-chai.---- eae:
Mp-hayescesee sen Upshotesee ee ae
ko-chich-nik. --_- kwo-chitsh .----.
e-duk-a...--.---- kus-ar-ruk-ka..--
GUS ES oaecodnere eet-ee-nth .......
Oteti-hes-o=— re —s- ai-tai’-ee: --..--=-
wak-kwo-ho..... wah-kwi -o’- teh-
hah.
wak-kwi .-....-. wah-kwe .--..---
as Kaleee fossa ais-kahhe see
ha-dop-sit ...---- did-eh’- woo -ko-
hoo.
kwai-da-chi-muk | ko-mah-su-see-de
i-dur-ka :--:----- O-Che@ sree a=n ace
ken cs=seetesece HOW reee eee =
IM=M 8 sees oes imMMali) 2-2 -2s.-5-2
ft-shafessss secs. The) Nee ie ae
hi-u-e!....:..-...| kow-wait-sai*.-.-
sha-duk .-. .-----
ip-he-ne -.-...---.
ot-ta-ti-wa -...-.
jae-duch)scn sian
uk-kab/-ruk-e-.--.
kwaun-e-eh’-how--
rope-se-kwon-a-
kutch-re quei.(?)
hote-e-ter -.- -..--
5. Shastie.
uma.
aniakidi.
atsirai.
atsukh (shoes )
wukine,
tsoare.
apkhbatsu.
apkha.
titsbik.
khal.
ima.
atsa.
tarak.
ashurabaua.
610
English.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
1. Shas-ti’-ka.
Shas'-ta Family.
2. Shas-te.
3. Shasta.
4. Shasta.
Pine
Flesh, meat. --
Mosquito .-.-.
Snake ......-..
Wings =.2--:.
Salmonaesss-e
Nam
Blac
Ol weccles c=
Wihite=-.- ==.
[ee aoc
Light green -.
Great, large --
Small, little .-
it-ai/-yo ..-.-..
ap-o-tel-lu’-chi-
i-kwa/-teh -....
kim-peh (big)--
ut’-tu
kai’-o-pok .....
ut’/-tu-kai-eh - -.
ikh-hun-nut.--.-.
hekh-hi Sese-s---
ikh-hut-shit ----.
ut-sha-ne’-ho ..-.-
a-daus= ss s2csse52
he-te-ke - ..------
ip-she-wa:<.-..-.
Kis O's ssenccescose
ho-wa'-tit ....-.-
s’chaum-pi-tet’-it
Oe oSn Soma ce
aut-s’cho-di..-. --
ik-ka-sha......--
sa-wa-hut .......
kwai-ti-din-ni - --
kit/-tut-1 <>. 222.
TRAESINNS Goss Goce
akh-ta-kot-tik - -.
jeteh-o-ku-di-
was-so.
ke-ti-ho-kum-ma.
kid-du-ka/-he -- -.
kai/-up-po -.----.
ka-di-Sa .....----
kot-ti-kwieh-i -. -
kwoi-a-wake --. .-.
cho-ko-to-kook ..
AaT-roWw ..---- ----
tetirkeee soos ae
tah-wu-ry -.-.---
cha-kah-reb-ee -.
up-seh-whoi - ---.
ter-rah-ha -..--..
kwoi-teh-to.-----
ah-hah-kah -.. .-.-
shum-pet-eh-tit ..
p= pa hte eaen eee
up-pah-choo-re -.
Kkos-sah-- 2222523
it-tai-yew ....--.
ep-ho-kwe-ret-tie
eh-koh-tie -.-----
ich-mu-putch-ie--
ik-kwoi-too..----
kwat-seh-kwut-ie
Ja = pleke ee cet
ut-o-kwoi ...----
jtch-kuk: 22---5s-
you-mah-hah ....
kai-ah-ho...-..--
kud-is-stich ..----
kud-eh-kwoit-soo
5. Shastie.
hapso.
hankidui.
tararakh.
itain.
epkhotdarukbe
eakhi.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES. 611
Shas'-ta Family.
English. 1. Shas-ti/-ka. 2. Shas-te. 3. Shasta. 4. Shasta. 5. Shastie.
Deadae-c-s-- oe Uh eee ncaa Saas na-ma-} di-kik ..| kwid’-i-kit ------.
JAIN GS aptstcce lecisescnccsaneeco] |seSces ease cs5606 ma-did’-ka .....- kai-em-moo.----.
(CHG), eS SSS leaeec rs Seconecs osbeos cose ce=cod ish-ik-ki’-da -.--. SBS ses one ‘| isikdato.
VWrarme hoteses| possess oaereaet= mua es oanescacee|| GES GEG Kae ene. a-tik-tu ....----.
ite cadaue seeene VWEiapactiss sana bonnes esaccseces NAY Sem pne.cesb code) WE nesaess bond ida.
Shobtesce--.- TOTS pecs cond babe cece as Bann socoos Sapecn Sages inah/-i- =. 5-<.)..--|) mal
Helene ecisese hati-sineees es |eaesecsesctee se kwatZer eee so HOS i ea5 BS SaOS hina
WiWlerns esse ss |teoasa-ece cece (Cece Selsacsicoeees Wa=K Bie ces eaten hook-wa .....---
INE pencn otaellacos sone peng chdel|acas nesans noosse HT ogacenccccee||popacoscsosa.c5bsue
Thighs s .25,.|\scccceccenseseer
RIGO) Best oe||eccooSicsoe.couess sao steccooccscs
Poll = seeee baka aba. 2 cee sasees eas canes
ROSE eese ea teases seleisis seen [Ses cesiecsieies ses
Mojstan de poem sacs aatase eee |leeimerocceiemmce
PROVO ao tee ctl [ecto saan se me|| Sele elec oeioia
TOCOM Esa = sss |boc- sees se eweeeel eeeees eoecemee
To walk. .--s|ta-shants-¢s2.2|tAseccecesacnee
To work.---.. w-ti-kak
Toigivese-.--c ROATOMN 85a cscdl boeseacsaceeose
Roliouch)-=--- Leh sie Risser (sear. ce semen se eek reaeice sees
Morstopeassee it-ska
Mowlyeaneen nap wo-ho
To fight .....- cha-mu-su, mu- |......----..---
Kkai-su.
Toyumpesse-= a-chu-Kul -<22.| coca ecenecscss
Tovwhave-aeeee LOMFisst=e)l «2a |ins secssc scree ee
Canyecarese ses MAN joocec cee |susisachee neeaeees
Cannot-.-=--- O-met muy s-\|\o- ee acevo wie mae
JOBS Go oeeee WbBItslssesces|seccoeeseeaa ee
Wiestiqassaice= 4 u-chup/-chitics|eeees sense eae
High, long.--..| wa-chi-weh -..|.---..----...--.
GON) esos 1-sheh: (2seesec-\|2o0 = cee . SSSR
Devil 2 US= WO] cies ss <4)] foieiate sie islers mo wiere
Death!=--22--- Aci-dile. eet254||\ Se soseccene cess
TAighb Soe eseal|pccc-asncasecicisa| ee essacenceeses
Darkness=.co-2||s2ccs-tectaccass|| tccmemec secant
it s’chop-ho-duk .-
huts-ku-6teahad|o-- 5 2see acntae el emer eneeeoneeee ees
he-kwoit-etch- e-
ye.
kot-ski-et ¢ h -e-
heh-ye.
cheh-hus.
kwitsh-kook - .-.-
kwitsh-ie-.-..---
le-heh-tah-kah - .-
toos-teh-heh
kwoits-neek
titch-nu-che -..-.
te-how-see...---.
seh/-wah
se-atch-uk-ik ..-.
seet-e-kik
bisa esa, sceces
mok-as-ko-he-ok -
kut-tuk
ai-ok-heh-mo ..-.
chop-who-ruk .-.
ou
. Shasrie.
English.
COMPARATIVE VOCABULARIES.
1. Shas-ti’-ka.
Handsome....
Welyemecet=
Affection
Shas'-ta Family.
2. Shas-te.
3. Shasta.
4. Shasta.
613
5. Shastie.
you-uch or oo-uch
kun-eh-deh-nio --
kun-eh-kwoit -- --
un-ne-ne
=
-
Vvé
Le
IN DEX
Page.
A-cho-m4/-wi belief in a future state......--...----.------ Sodoag nse Son cocasnagsodeccesSeeeer 272
urialicnstoms) seco onsen ean et anise eee en a oc eescopeeces pseecaseseaccseeae 272
CORN) RG Une 6ooscs 5nbees CoSEaU Choad Sobooa BOSE oScone HEEDSe Cescisecea 270
Derivation! of the term 2 ssica ceo aoc sewine sec ces Ss mwacyaco cease aceises noe oles 267
FATAL Va VOCHD UL ATGSOLNUNO sy eis o/ersiaieleleis sole 1s aioe nite eee eee eeeisiec me cece 447
MocdiGtethe mapa ser ease eee eee cena pata eeeee ee eaeee ees oar BaSaA OmO CAR REOoeS 269
JEG ORIG OE TO eicago Bs aGS5 GOCOD ACEC SD SOSO ECOREn Concord ceEE eo usuasaSocHosEeosos 267
ANEMIC Oh = aot aia lole se ase a ran oe ees ser Relocoe seeceece~Seeeee sees 271
lan POE eee So cie wae eS oa fsa toes See a oe etaliwe ace eiois wie sise staweiemse we Shoe ceminiaers 272
ISIS) SAR so ena cec SoS R50 RBS CSS COREE ERD ECSU RSE CECE Geo Rene aaa SSeS 273
Mental caraetevintics of the..--- OUR BEO CSO NS COBURG CHS San BSnG SIRES OSnE CSSeaS 271
MOULIN Py COLCMOWIOS se sect ame alee ee a eal aeininl slo sale aia ol sos depoee Seer 271
TION EL ot ooo Snalnoce SECO Aeb SoA DOBRO CURE SO DES aon DEL OEOSESONEHCES USeaen CoDODS 273,
Bhysicalicharactenistics| Of the). s2- cscs as 2s neem aleea ales s= salsa laee ates 267
Soctallifevorune tes. senieser ante cena alecisceeaisiestaae memo eiienicresctvecis oe eraiae sees 271, 272
Superstitious beliefs of the..-.......- BSCE SO CRAB CIES ERA ho Lagsoaceneresaceas 270
(APPT MMES acess hoch Seco tS Be occo nse aencosenpsooce Casesegoccness HoOnaoRSeoscesa 269
Tribal divisions of the-....---- atbesh cobs COoted See c4 So sese Saco osesao eso cece 267
Vocabulary ofthe nas =.= ncea emote eee aa tae eee ein see aye mete ae cian 601
AVERAGE NG eee tan GEO RPSaEAD O-Gero Dae Aan CoE SEA REE Bach onetress Ecoatese copcao ne 268
WOMEN su DJ ECHONNO ti UNO) metamn aca saclelnemetete amciet aise eee saetemteleinheeeseras 70
JAGGER TITIES) aa SS Ss Boe oahg SoHo ons BOSC ee SOS S6—0 DOSHeS Saba noos56 Rs oons osSse5 nSe0cC 284, 323, 351
INTO, WGA DELO Aa) 1H Gia Geet asec Ser CO pSCOnE Ee rode —some Haecad Bano espoce BAageo DeScas 462, 463
ASTVAV on Sb ae pEneoe CSC OH ccodnéescenon Boa Dedaso aceece Cae Sose pean Ne BO Ea EO EOO- Laeetococcabe 160
Americans, Sentiments toward ..-..------- .uce2. scene secne Bi teeoceenda 63, 214, 224, 229, 263, 265, 277, 320
IAMMBBMENES I acecefeaeae ee aesise eee seme ae nceete ae sale denen ocredeistes/seseeseeee sac aisese 179, 310, 333
AMMINU AMON oa alsene asa = =e la cieanin aan eles nian =~ focscy note cee ec ee eioss sleee sie can eeeelc ean cancels 200
bravery in hunting. .....-..---.--- ES Cone RO CHE SOD ECE Coe. CEL EEO ODE SHS SoBe Se nee 200
burial customBre-secicse esse - soon soe na cieeee cn eceens sass sciteesa Series sc\occescesc 200
courtship and marriage. ........---.---.---- bogcenbososod sas 2550 cosas Sscbos5c 198
TRIN WED cee pe GSS BE REEEOR CODC On PERG REBEL CEEOS Cp OE ROE COO AE eer E Bae me ped 196
INfANICID CG sae sersemeiew ee aa clocaaisdscn seo sccec sae ao~ccssesceaceseslescsseisss= 198
language ........--.. 3 Gl ono ea aReHOB ECR CE CBee care coadeethondoceeesamepteac 198
LHS 54.55 3560a6 Sco SESE ENON DAO ZB AC DO EOE cee ao cas dees Ee saoSE sed scoEseddess 200
PIMOdIGAlepPrAGiCOa Cee acee oasis e cls osteo ciscee tisealse c oes se Se sine cm ceceek ee 196
616 INDEX.
Page.
Atsh=0-chi/smi migrations; =<. . 5/02 << josGceecs sceo ease ete ren seem ee Senet cole ener Oe ee eee 197
Physicalicharactertstics'of the ssacess-< see see eeeeneasieeieeae ene eee ana acme cise 198
Religious: worship: of the: =. 22.2.5 J-c.soec2 > cewe seis sis assess osen eee eee omsicas ect 199
Soeialcustomsio£ bbe 2s. maslae sere creeion sony sae nee aeiee ee eee ae ene sea 198
Superstitionsibeliefsvof; the)... /s<%2-- ct esco ac es encase aeoe einen cece omeenics 202
tVAMUONG We 2 erates pees on Hoes Maqse Sars cee hele ie siee eee cele cle oie eo ne oe errs 196
treaty, with: theGal-li-n o-melero iesizicisiona iro te acne elec cee ac ccce ie one eee een ee ee sioe 197
Wats Of the 2 sscceeinc,a0-saeeen ce nc a sseec ers nejscee isaac cece aet eee eae eee 196
WAVES; Nights of thes o-2 ssc% we cceace cr coexianeclecise 21 ob nares oer cee eee eeeeioe 199
Assembly chamber, = oesmercina sowie iselo-marsaei esac ee eee eee aoe ee Coo onal Gos On sealer)
Atbha bas CAnuraCes ete a5) oso o ae ate a wteeinyssieicy a eisieinroie ss ora via co Se Snieve acc So eistecls se le ae OM onda BOON oD
AWAMICO ees ceca ntseig ee Sm iscreineine a ocicinetoak mesan's ct Cac sete aecteslee = Soe eee ee ees 56, 66, 176, 216, 323, 411
iACvery MMP RAPS meee noe fate ea eer LSE Se oe Ree es Sane eee so oa 375
IBancrolis Wine eee op ances innate: Sais cleans. wel sats a,seisiersespei soln aiee a atectes Se se cen ee ee aeieeinerS 62
Banclannavin (Ce ses sca sic ceie steno ols pane ossahccccmcecaceck cowiecmmeccee ace wenaeseenieeeere 70
Babul eth MC wives oan. a(t weitere cer eee acre ceciclaae ce ces aeeRcne cesieee BB eames Becraroe 483, 492, 518
Baskets tsa cseecee = e=n ois eae o se see eeshae es ee ce ee eas. cee cet co Seeen cee mueenseeeees 47, 186, 257, 350, 377
IBRSandS eae t= Sea see cole Seogoe eee aoe ace Fae ere eee eae ne eA Sok ee ee ae 23, 75
DSL) hy LDS Oysal BS eae Cy eS ne amen Sa aS a le es a ts anc 381
Ba-tem-da-kanis Viocabulany of, Ghe) 22-252. s..22-2. sock ~ csescoensess cece mess eocsecraseseease 495
Bate STONING cae cckes cicsia ae cers oie ase eee ees acca e ioce rwie noaetae. Sosa a ee cene eee ee 148, 196, 405
BOLIRIMARVON: = casio. croele ates nentrs Sale nee @ Seewianl Soa cm osc teans cove see ace enrcesies ces sreeeeeee ee eeees 184
BPoHEl; Mite) WEL «a elses else asec tnblnee deen cece eis cceist sis sans cee caiemu ale se meciueeeeteere 383
IBONGLAC OR: Soeaieecinee sesinee se See aye < Cocca che cect cose cues Sean eoenbsc one ccmen Sache Bae lscactam ReOORALD
IBIOUG Ye OCKeRSLOLV IO lc see w eae carn cee Gs wa cscjen Sa seiFe So aeceitabiss ee ys Meniewaeien POSE ease ee 137
OLIN OC On vO MEIN) ews Comoesiee wee ce as sacws cu veyscecusweee cerca seta cocctsctt eeeee eee eniee emis 420
BOSrone@ an Oversee se Sou secado wc seep ae ote as dacls was soars Seed o Olene AE eRe Eee Sate eee ee 263
boundanvwlines=— oa. cts sees 2s..5cceeae cecwicwaccinceaceaedecotene 16, 66, 109, 148, 155, 197, 252, 320, 371
ESROVIA NL Reali HES. MEMO eee SCS Choe Sontte seein ae niece Eee an ae a ooeae aaeans wed cumeee cones 518, 586
Bonnell PO rs ws hee aan iets soe ss so wees oe awe ccee coe San see ecees cou eees BobemonaSCocseosooc 365
Burceth walla acted: esas. cacccue scan ce sass cases ccecac ead soe ose me et Meee eee eee ee 271, 272
Buna Gustomsscesss Sess Ses ae acces acs S ewes cee Soe coe roses Uaceeeone 33, 58, 99, 133, 145, 148, 152
Burying orounGsieass sesacs fs See ae Cea aee oe Sect ee Se se ae eee sate oas Meee ae cee eee 33, 34, 99, 219
Calaveras/County, Vocabulary Of the... 5... c-ce semaines aces ccccnpekesmeoces tie sctm a eeeenner 573
Califormiaibig Lees. = saeco cae oes Cec eee oat en wie seveee cece oe be eee eee ew eee en cee ne cece eae eee 398
Camp-sites ...--. SP Se mia eratate Sa cete Seah es cciclerorens sla tole os Sea R ee ee clece is inc ee eee 219, 255, 283, 316, 370
Cannibalisnicaemmece << sae ta cs cen os car ete tee ee eee er ee ae ee eae ee ae 131, 196, 344
Cam 0CSka ase ence iets oe, sini cia le eee se eel aiene mice seen le seislace ace ce ioe ene: aisce eeicaete Aa OOO ONe LO Neoo eos
CaptamJack; Description: O62. - <<< -.ccsaeecctcere qt cicces oe sie sae ce Saale eos sincosiesaniceee erences 261
Carillon ICaquiMy s-- cees = 2 oes eas oc aorsce is wesc ee cs Mae a oe Nee ea ee ioe eee eee ee eee 129
Genamic remains Wack: Of wosccetasscioc ae oeaSe es ho cele eesniwee ae Roe cas see ape ce ee ee 432
@hasewMin. AV Wijrsssc oso iments cee ne Dacncauls osen ee oes wo ios s see secsee 52, 57, 60, 69, 432
Chan-i-shek,, Vocabularyof the ..<-oe ~o-n1c— oceans Soe soso ce oa atte vie acet sea eeeeenaeeeeee 495
Ciiefay. 2 o- e eeen aot ae ice ee 45, 66, 97, 157, 164, 172, 174, 243, 246, 261, 352, 353, 371
@hildrentes eee on SUP Ne ges lee acne it ea ae ae 21, 206, 222, 276, 316, 331, 354
Chil-lu’-la burial customs ...--- BE ee see eee Sec ecret. 6 SoS SEE ines ce coeeronge 87
ab batiob thes: ccs. .Satscee Sons a2 e ae eae eae ee eee ee ae ee ee 87
MAN SUNTEM cscs noes cscs ree oie bass oa bide oe SOR eee oe ete ene eee eeneee 87
Superstitious beliefs of the.........-..-..- Hosa Sa ase ees Soe ccciee ues cle mee eeiwcee 8&8
tra Dintbarye tO ihe velop hose wicoe e cese es o-oo eee EES oer emer iece a ciscneoeeasee 87
Chismail-a-k woe; burial uctstoniss-cs,.ssesmcimesis-ce sel ssc cee ee nee ste oo oalae Coe See een eee 93
Habitat.of£ thes. -.5..-222..<- ainleta ara ca weerebecle eNs bos sive ea enis in siseaiue Careercieee 91
TAN SUA PC 5 H.225; o0:<.aebles vaew res cose e ese Talis aoe Cae taseee ecinle Rae ceo Ce Se alee 92
c=} °o
INDEX. 617
Page
@hi-mal@a-lowetributanyato une, Fn pay..- = 2. jes sson sere eee elconaleseepelenenl cca niees cee acces 91
Wars of the-.-...-.- Ee OOS eee EER REISS ening SEU COO SO SEES 94
Chim-a-ri’-ko family, Vocabularies of the........-...---. --------- ee See ane eae ws AZ
WASEDA POLE Re ce eenaas Asoc S2OC,CCIO 0050 CCAS Su CO BUSH SDOECG HaSg nS GOEE A75
hoki ayer hws ster cos atats ome, Sorell aera Boas Cae CRE Sa ene 0 OBS COE SS LEO GH DE ICOM Bhea caane Hache ceege=poseec 519, 587
OSD MGR RaS- 53 cece as HOSE So BEC OS Onna bn ea Ee CEoe e CH aCeee BEBcD Cone ae cH Coocee erared 90, 204, 214
Dieper Vocabulary Of theo so= 2 -- ce meme eels nee ions coelen mses emmaine anes Semen ef a= al 521
FSD io per 4aiV OCaDULALy? Ob GO = aon nce a ons wie lalate ole ne emi ole ensl eo ime minlainimol Seiiamaho = 589
Diseakesie ee =e ciseny == sete ese so ciom esaewienieo ales 23; 92, 103, 128, 139, 169, 220, 232, 316, 378, 380, 393, 417
TDN Oi els) a og SS EEOC OR OSE ERS DEB TOBE OHS Gor DEED pee OoC acd SobdeD HoSnen Dole ue Sere ene sosoae 56, 178, 239
IDS os Se ren Get oe nee en 5 5 DEON OBS SOnp Ss Ce DC EE SORE Ee ce Sad Bonees cnc <-Ose- oO OnSd oem cosines 379, 385
IDOL Ne IBY Re eee cae oe es cE CUO nS Cee EER Ge Sq ECS eS eRe ne Se aed Come COG ean E ease Eee aaae 258
DOSS ee settee eee eta eens eas a anech © coco seewcsca arse cick worse SUN Ce0 Od, C44, DO LOA OLA NOSO DOL
IDEAS CRIS) So RRs (Sona gpa OEE OO RHO SBGEES BES SEs BA SECO So Roos BeSC OU NEECod eesomee- 400, 405, 434
Barthqnakeseosaceeset seco =a seresesoa eur an oemnnies acler ees sensee an eersa et --oieienos eeoeme Coy eUaeUm
TO GIP UNO es Socceroos anener ASO OOS ESe srmdee 99eess Se coda ose eeseeoss oe Sosa ecas/ MIM) IRI iss eI prl
PhenekvocabulanypOutneeseaee eee ee aon sel ataalis a eeineiemaeieinalol = alatais ate of amet foe atm = alae 449
Bly AE eee ee NRE com dentate hemes wae ecade de toh vce ee 197
IDS WROO gas eco. B5.c5 SESS NBO CREE BOO TIDSOSeTaE nee se Bama ewore = setae sere ean as 227, 245, 314
ID enpteay Jenene Oe LIC cece ce GaSe DORE EEE ORS e=O On 656209 Caps Aan oc Couns COBeES capeas 195
DTI CR EIS == Bae => secig eR eso aoe SECO BECO Debs SESE CO DEES Basan - Sond soeneaeaeS eoce 194
ALAC CR Eee esas ae meen ooo mince Sayre mapa ys setae ster teehee loeeenre eiseiosioccene 195
Hiubitatopthewacns-\cecsses eae cete series ao =een cee cee ee topee seewerialsinciee sic See m= a 194
LO YEY So es En Re See en ene 5555, TopeC A BSdees Sstedoes cocicd ReSs=abe> mone 194
Relimionsideasionthessse 2. -fo a -- = ---clesoesnieale tae ane ee eee ete 404
Diseasesoh the: 2c ncse: censce uate Soemee sae saeee meee eee eee eee eee 417
Division ofithe.csaseeviecajosaasoce sae cele e sie se eae se es ee eee ee ee 403, 417
Division’oflabor amongsts the:- = <<< ss .2 2s ccc sieceiesloosei ewe se esis see 405
BEnduranee:of thes soaescs5 tease ste eecie nese sees se ee eee eteee eee eee 416
Mensteiofthe's i5s..4eccecnabe rs setdacacce nese eAeren ee ee eee eee 408
Mood: ol thetcas.cspseceesccsccu cess secceesasaceeeecene Saceeoa 417, 419, 421
Moulnessoflanguageofither. 352 .emsssmnyocs-te-vse eee eb ene enleare eee eee 412
Good! natureiofthe css. 2 .scss02 moecsee ce occes cas cent aecle sooner oe omeees 407
have no conception of a Supreme Being-.-....-...-------..----.-------- 413
Hnmor Ob thes: sac ecdscct sce cacewacocmecaccmecsoeiecees epee caesee cane 409
Industryottthenccecn.o-- sere ssn cee acme eis eee eee eee 409
Tneratibudetolt thezca: <2 casdecihcospecisecinn ose tose ese tet aee cee eee All
Imitativences) Ofethes = a sidan tose ecto see om nie ele eee eee 406
lackinp-in\pootryand romance! 2225 ce~ eect e ceeicees sees Seeee cee oeen 408
MicentiousnessiOf thors. on\sc- ssh aSecacncse qecse Gasece ce eee eee EEE 412
Medicines\ofthe). = -.=.50<2 2 s-2- sec os sopeciein toe see eS eeee acetic eee 418
Mentaltcharactoristies:of the.2.2.--<:..2s55-5 decceces eee ee be eeeen=e 401, 411
Mentaliwenknessyor the < ccs 2)actsacrselereis tices Sete ecaces esis eee actrees 402, 406
MOANA Mena Olea ca aeiec cece ceca ce eels| en a= ee cole eiey a aelntene een 404
NOU LC OOM NUNC sea sleomsemitises lance stsice setae mise see ease 406
not tawdry in dress..-.-.- Soe se ona sane. s550e9 Sase Sosecs Seease cooses cscs 408
Odor ofthey see a codes ee sess cayenne steenecchosewieas Seen eeac ees 403
pliysically considered es aepto. 25s e'to cea cciecetesisseiioe sels mete scene team a Ue ane
Predominancelol ginls'amongsh the) -assesice «ass eleiveciseei ee eeleeeeie=es S00) 403
Prevalence of infanticide amongst the ....-. 550 ---- son. cosa een = selene 416
Religionusideas\of thes. -o--sssserneeeeeeee a retest eccs ee eee Por tie PCS COn SNEED
Vocabulary of the\..cscccisocc sac ce nose cee oe oe aee meee o es atm seb enes seem eee ses
ICAIWPOMOw aces ci sete nooks cet tare ae oe saree Somer naisle sw Eee see ekeaicaue Saemee dene aiecce as
Ka |-rOki Assembly, ChamMberacco os o=\n\s sinc nena ee wets els aclases enidise mettuisiann poe a alee ciame
behefeiniaiduture (state. cece eee sao ssi cow les epee aoe a aan eaaleo soles see
Bravery Of then so-. Seoene scar cosce np esisswinepwisocicw arse cke see ese acesen ccc case
burialicustomss-ese ween tee= eee see sap eae sa eae lor esio= se ene eae tea eate ater
Conception of ‘aySupreme Being re ae woe leew cere sara clears Beoeeee see ea se se/lea ee
COUTISHIP ANG MALNAT Clee saise sees manatee ae ania ene eae eolee Nae Tele enaine eee seeisae
dancelof propitintionins=-cc wase elas case ne Moms a= daccec to stia te Soe area dearer nee eee
208
206
504
148
22
28, 30
GSNCOS 2.52 ss dan sae aos g sasie so a scaas SAS sate se cies sce eee sects estses sees ieciceee, OU, Oly 42
Derivation of the term, 252 oases coe ecs hee eonciss ws colcne tice, case edsoaeeoesien cniecs cueteee
MDISEASEROLtNOt ese sme ere mek ee ete calatee alsin he estas aes, = Seale Sere eee cee ceteeesise ein
Givisionlof la pong se eee ile mes satacure ses eis sae laere Se ore ee Sea eemine rs slecree mies ia
Dress) of/ thers). 4.22 so as ceecacecc jesclastsccccescissecet be woes Seas cede eases ese sce ssccis
Lamilya OCH UL UnlesiOb LNG ene oss eas ieee eee eae eee es eae sma eeetieme sae seca ae
Hahbitatitof the seas sscemcces sect eos eoce cece. cones cose este co seat ecteteccme cere ssoleacts
Miackro livin tielassas sana aceleacseatassee—senclce seis seaissee PE eee ee
IRNEEGEXES). Sood qacese sopete noosa te Seer COSOEN AanSSo absccne chsses swado codsc5.coace eee
19
23
23
20
447
19
22
32
TEES 16 FE) Rae SoS AO aC SO BOCES D DA SECS COD SECIS CODE DE COSD CS SSer RoE Sac STG OCS OCGe bos 35, 37, 38, 39
IGGERS) cSagascincns qo ce oSTaho GhoceS BSQunS CLCESd eeuend Sao nOb Hor CoS aa BESO DC oUmeanS aece
MVS NLL OREO We 6 Se ee bocnon a5 an Sebo esb0 bean Seba S05 COON SBOE De Sesee5ce Sbo0 Sasa 5660
TOME, ce smnecoma chan ASqt Osta So QSES. ACsnSadaa6 SOgCE pdtessdasbngocncsosss Onescnooscs
Montalicharacterishics on thomccseaessciseseieeaciont ess © a= tease ee me ceee re acec riences aes
MIGUEMINPGeremOnlesasenjaaesisesa saat cate aeiasae fae elaeseeeer sere eisai ee taea
BUEN he ane a panna COOROS CoSHE TI enaa CHa t50 COShgoH Dono oer odsEoDntidoscocbods coals
QUA ETN CASE Sa cana ose Subs one tocoD DOD S Dae OE Sed ac onEenres =a cer coe a copsoUcacnco
Physicalecharacteristics Ol heise ==0-~ se decin soe = sates ce ece sas se acletcesaceee eae ae 5
Physicaliendurance othe ya2s92> coo -Co sae ten apace eae see asa omeacre seea cece saae
Politica koreanizAwWonOnui@asmer-\aeaesemnmelece aoe ece mania aele sane enee aces etenenee
PRIMI SIV erd Tess Ob UNOwan= seiswce secs Samco Seca easesnacee teeaSeeeeseseecrcenss Gocco
ibromiscuous!cohabitatiomof theses----s-+s = sees a5 ree comet Be LOC Ne DOCS
Shamans oohe mesa asec sess eens anes ere Saale sa echeae cats aseyeiealensee epee ae
Superstitions) peltefsiotathomecs macs ss\< = olesita vole nincaiet iomis sano = avocls oben aehacine
PhLttOOIN Macca esac ase as: aceleore ae tae ealaa viene nere sete aa see ots aioe Sane arenes ce sinone
Wala eiiy CHANG! seeose topcotpeceoninoon soso ndes scants Qociscn ca cese Copmah SS UsEiebecs
WAL CuSsloMmsolhOlesente-casa- sass cca sieecce SetedoroocndaocsocoRdSre SSE Scinoos
WGAPONS see encace seen ora nn see alana, Be Cee nC co aOc A Raco HES een eceHoncecce cisco
Verse, Wie ET Ay OE UG) 5.965 ASees SoS eoS Saco Ce DOCOES SSeS cE HOS O SS Seon 2 SoStS coo SSeS boo
UGCA EO. ese Seee ceca BOBS SSO SSO BONS SOOT OO OSOSHG GSO CASES6 GESE SS CSS SoScos SanoSAS
TST GIMP OSS chi06 USO Oo COREE CB0G BSD COD BOSD BO BOO CIDO RCS BOOT CABINET DER COR Son nodD cabo seeoseS
Kaweya, Vocabulary of the .--......-...-..-.--... SS Reo ota bnIGSDO OS ISSO. Ab 055 dose bosueaooar
LGR Gy, Wil, SEINE Gate Gaaoos cooeSaceSs SesSos BeOS Cood ES coBonor HSdcee. cersnes=oseoo sees res
Kelital belicisinpinure a talOsemomtas eck nose conan astaasiatl nies om acleaismasias om .seca: oro aiac eamnae
LGR GOTOH odonciicecore. ncaa GoScbS nC coc ches Cne dos a+ booulbsesSneces ao nomEes BEBEES
TSG ELE TN co codmec Goci8 DESO SEE ES D560 BCS DODECU DANE CO Robe BCBS Epona bcod a Bos ara
Habitat toh Grasse cca wee stares sya mala sinomin='a(s) jane teins ee poco sooo oDceeechooedeus
Jan Ona Pele ne ape meee ace aee a secinsaSeecscs cclesccecssscscac'ssoceonces eee aesasjacas's
MOYER A Sans Sono chocco CSE CHOSE OSHC DSUOOU DOC OCDE ECB) DESOGU CE DOOE OOO RSS Ieee Se OSeD
Political organization of G2 co... - DOSES RC 5 5 SU SOU COCO OE DES RIE oIS 352, $54,
306
624 INDEX.
Page
Mi’-wok, Dialectic variation of the ........--- ebectcctacaevlncetbetecsee coenesesaccs Rereiainiotemtate 347
IDressiofthe: v= coeds fact wed ce eee oe Sacto eee oa eT ee ene eae 351
Eloquence of the .......... Sefeaaiasaeee 4g wainiee ica, seo ete nes sien ae wis seem tepieeeiese eteacle 352
feeblenessiof national tunity: ==... o-2= SESH Sap at os Pa oe ee eee ene =e 39, 341, 343, 344, 345
i
STEN SE SOU ie te at ee a a oto me tla so le aie ae i 316
mode Ofepllectinm@eDis = 2 iccccrse oaa6 ono aeezan ee ceren see seen ae Soceeoae eee 321
TNONUMIN PC OLOMUM CBs soot aaa Dede sos ned reas ost ees ee Meda cee Sle, oos
TG ba HIBCELVADOO DIG tao aoe oe onsen dee enone ese s Snine soe v owe noe odae eee 323
POT Gy Ss ee ee CAE OE ee Ee aa eae seers. ac 313
OURAN OMIA ame teee eae a Raa aaa aan oa alee Waals a anya ws weal ase ae 333
EGroOu A MAMES OMI ND yoo Aas se ancln=5 62s aenss toes Soh Seow aac See eee 315
EOUMCAN OLS AMIZEMOM OL TNO) ac coe ccccscacsonceess cao Ses sineese se wense weeee eet 317,319
PVMIEVO. GLERS OL COs o2a sa soee se coo o as ce sininee ae eae vpegacales Seas se ess 317, 33
MUNSHI CHE OT MULLIN soa elaiatn on nce s\oe scan ae oa = ae eo ee een a Ae aie ete 320
RIAD PIN Giessen sete on a= 3 ne oe pe BEC AN AE EET 318, 320
MIN Oli eocloews on agian Saveis= Sees voile ea niap oa cee eo Reem Sees wena 320
RM PIONS ACES OL NO seein eocmen'sesowe> Sano ces aeiesesseazeseeeaswecdsctcene 33
BECKOUONP AN IZATION ori as 20 ew aetna ose oun Fossa ee se cewslesnueunias sso sere owe 326
Shell moneyOe terms ans- o50--3on Sea sscshercsonocanecccde tecser oscccenaetet aes 335
SIMISTLOM OLA {uO AIM, Ul arn ato tc vos ances scan see Jee bese nous wen wacea ehedsce 320
SOCISMCHSLOM Were cieea tensa cwee pos esas nas nace medeas sa sece saden jacetassoure 317
40 T Cc
626 INDEX.
Page.
Ni shi-nam social’ catherines: = ssceses oo eae es eels so ae ee eee ee ee 326
Tribal boundaries: of thes. 22.2.1 -cnee oe so ce sce aoe eee eae eee eee eee 314
treatment/ofithejaged\-oaaa-tecsric- -leeksei hee ee er eee eee eee Ene eEeees Eeeaee S22
Vallasesvofstheiecosas- seers ees SERCO MACOED BORO CODESo=s Hoaden haceee eodoua csee 316
Vocabulary of: the: .cosic schoo = seta sa es ern a neee eee E ee ee eee ee ea Eee 588, 589
War customsiof ithe. ;..c2c)0 seen see oe cto cts ane naa ae Se Ce I pe 320, 321
Warsvofs the. - 25 235.25 sch sinsd nce Sense eee cen Se oe ee ee 320
WERPONS ones eo nin wes ea c nea ees pee ae oon a elo etssisinee Seek Ee eee eriee eee en eee 321
Noema, Wylacker; Vocabularyvof the ---2-5 ---- 222-225 cesescene Vee ees Ustc=sscceeuebeener seer 520
Nome) lackee;Vocubulary of the=.--a-esesese vse so aoe eaten eee ee eee eee 521
No!-2i, ;Habitatof the. tesceyeas aches see dens oon Case ee eee eee 275
Hon G8 6Y. <= fb hye cac staan oeciatnyr eaten See ea ie Sree oe Se ee 276
ANGUSUNY rs Sas Soc Nessa e oe tm acarcesecieoe Se ae ne 27
MiISTAblONS 22 so-csiweas cca ae meIoee esos es Se One ee eee Cee eee ee acon 276
Numerals! essere ee eeiviciniriia alsin Seve sinc eiale iejse viswiceDinorete aisles relateitasm'e myamieiclacis ee eieteeieeeaeree 277
Win Pa sOPtliG vais Sajacicctecsicae since ss Alec eels chicos ere te Coenen. eee eee 275
Numerals: soc sss see sceeelacce s Naea teeters Sesasoue 45, 100, 116, 167, 232, 260, 273, 277, 313, 360, 378, 392, 399
Wamé-sn;sVOcabulary, of the-s2.csee. 22222 sock en conse teen cece eo 530
Observation of nature...... ---.-..-<<. ice deo Aides Saws o oe DOs oe cise eee eee 40, $9, 188, 419
Olamentke; Notesyon\th6z sac DOSES HoSane SenEaS SSeS CIOS 221
: Religious ceremonies Of the) <- <<< cece oo one oe omnes a ainnwalen wea ohne ele asain = ninive =n nel= = 225
Utena GATTO AG Boe ee See poanac o5c5o00 SeSSna sOSSn Oo eSSenNSSs0 ceSeao SosbitoSore 218
\WERGRAMAS OF WTO ioe Sect cone coco aencls Cota SOSSC0 DHOLOS Se 5000 Ne DOSE Cop easpecacced sees 221
Veen DROP 1 ocos coseeceertEpec BEEEOS can6 COC DOU RSE COR CHOO Rena Bbenesecepsecebor 530
{wells GEETONIE) GocpemcRiconeee oom: Ob Son DoS BAD SEO SOS CA DODO BOBROO CE Bc BSUS Cobos OSSorEooS 221
WCRISOWE) sooo. ncootogiocnehe Heecsd cone Conde or OSE DSES DESO Deen SaEaceOSsainsos chasms cons 221
WEAN GIS: Gcoddoctonns bodcco ootigen Hoon coon emeer Seamer eoueSned ounbed sacepacrsacopoDS 221
LEG AC Ns \WOCOD TRAD: UR) a Seno e ceca coco Sead Ober OOCIa Gace seo Dac ooUnpooced aoSccmAspcan cons 449
jeter ep POL eee anos Soecesnoeeec eonceo cae Sooe pho DOOLOTSsoCdocsoproroocnS 20, 55, 104, 123, 198, 233, 403
THIGHDTE. Anse ek ooeD ocd GAAS AISCECOSSSnO 1OcaD On CUSED CFOS EB Eanecanso coerce Geese 224, 261, 272, 290, 357
Bhyaiquetecs-- norco ccnctseosicoeaes 19, 44, 66, 96, 120, 124, 127, 174, 192, 204, 214, 222, 231, £67, 400, 416, 433
LEWD. 1 WOW el ee Seen Cece aycee Bee e DaEO Hees SESE Ee CODD Dn p Senn6 TACO DO DeONEeTOBSSoness pacoaascce 178
PYRG nas cede Deco ScisS Otc Ga05 THOS Se. COC DODO ECO. COUD CEO ROCCO bad CbEE Coneed SSecra Gnen=n OcS05 433
IONS Git WO) COME el cis ce Shon SOE RES066000 BEDOES BAaO DOSES 6860 Coes Sr od asEsEEeceS.ccbe 315, 340, 349, 350
Rolyzlotewe ce acco seyooee sone teas fe ciseise ale onto wie cic lala sinieetaaiate Walnolalanlwainele Jastsinaanc stele Onlol yuo
EOE MOMCUsIOLaWOLS lO p= asameataseiee meee ele ce ae eisai cai ewicectenciselate semis acies sia) 147
cmp ain pO Ty ooo oeceees eRe BESO CEE eeD eps HOEreai been peac ScopneScas scpsrosogenonc 149
PERCH DO OED e665 core CoCo COR EEE EE DO DOSE EO BEES BOD ECD HREOC ODO BHCC ASno Seno Econ cece ne 157
HeltehainkastaunLe stanoeeses] sites coco eeiee lelece tenes oo eae cee caeae secles ie sacees 153, 154, 161
DULIMMCNBLOMB soars seeyee occ lne aloe cla Sec cin dole ooise cee w eas woeoncccieseweseeees 148, 149, 152, 153
conception) of ai supreme Being -.-\.s2 o-oo coes erer sce ree acl seccvcsnaa-enamne =o oserine= 146, 161
COMLISUL PS ANGGH ALL ACO yen seals eae eetesiselal ciel siaje sins etele aveiel ale eletematcl= a==aerlensep cesta sear ne ee eee eee aoe eee eee eEee 157
Lan puncte mena sem Metis Sete Salsa eee ene ee mere eee
Ling nistic Ghudiés\e = 20-2 the sion sen e.c cote ees etee Sele ee eee eee nee eee 150
lepends?-eeereeteae eee
SOS Re COA ASE OSS5 OAD Oso gis S0R aos Bccs Rost cs deco nsocchaesntete 162
lod ges! iio. 2 ec aeiscesn ew salrenacatee ce neinsreclss atcineee ale aaa Osan eee cence eeeeeee Ree AG aS)
MedICall PIAChiCOe eet enero ree
Memoryolbhetsossascs 2 = asec en Sone tee sen roles eae ee eee eee Be ee eee 153
MUM OKA ga wees = aoe Sac ce lseieoe eis cease eres ee eee ee ee ee Ee ee 167
Physical characteristics of thet. cs2c:c- ce. ce cre woes cae ee ee ee eee ee eee 149
PUYSIQUO Ses icac See eet coasts heer eee een en ne ae oe ote ne en 146
PoamMesse ater ces ce ema een eee :
Political’organization(of the. i =252--2-- sascbalase sca) ee eee ane eae eee eee eee e eee eee 156
predominanceot: pinlsis- 22 sate ee see eet cane pelteee eas nate cle m ee eee tee ee eee onan 149
Quarrelstof ther. sates selec aeeiseais Sas aed eeas otto ws aera eo ee ee ee ee ee 148
Religious ideas of the....--..----..--.-- BO EE CBDR OCInSe Sa etoRac naticcachcoce sseecuctiou nest 161
Superstitious beliefs of the.....----..-.. Bees Dose aca pao Udod Hau Sab HoeScaadshce cece.ces 154
BYBUCINOL SM AIIES wont meron aaa aeee eee as ee AC EEISSd Saened Seco S55 nocode cased 154
tattooing enesasecis ese so aceasta neta sce eeere eee eces cee cee eee ee ee 148
traits of character --.--..----- aaltSence wade bgbee sabes oi naa ee 147
LLEATMENtOLsPALENtS asc eaae cine ons atns oe eiemeisae cece e eae Sa eee ee eae eee 153
Mribali divisions Of the se serra sce Seiciniatsinecie = aaa’ Soe ele eice ee eee nee aie eee eee eee 147, 155
Vocabularyiof thesssss2s<2se0c.cseca-pciase cnccekvenses Seca aoass nae eae US ease aes eee 494
WAT ICUSLODIS sa miate nae sea line on tala inane nines ance alee ate en eet 160
Wrarsiof they ssasscs cast ee cone ance eens ease csc neeteacesec ccna een nees Saclece eee ee 147
women, Authorityor thew sce.) ssrietcien cece te easen eeceeiec tae acaeaseeene an nee mene 160
Subjectionot the 25 23s -cattaanes ese awe coe, saceee se eeice see se eee ee eee ees 159
Population, Density Of ss .-2--= oomph celeaee = oe mince se eee 59, 103, 128, 168, 204, 219, 254, 365, 415
Pottery tose ss sete es occck coe e cco eee e see on eee aoe eee ees RES ees oe eee 433
Potters William sasstoc coe cic sesclescan. Sasa tte te ee lee totes ter ae one ee oe oe 156, 158
IPre-NishOLiCStesmaeeer em ae eta eaela ee ee EpmobStocasacsonon sano tio Sbe Sooesh Gessce 432, 435
Priests and priestesses..........--...-- SL bce eeyesie owns ae ess suai ate Batamne eke ce emote 67, 82, 164, 428
Prostitution :<. =n cfs cseseessee eso sce te scecenancsscescces Ss Sosdmeecsecetes cs ealsceeee 225, 247, 382, 413
Puvjuni, Vocabplary of the: ose ss.) sceio tenets conc sdec Sala oate ene e esis eee eee eee 599
Quarrelsiand feuds)2.\- .socc.ceccscse coarse sceteces ce ceema secsecews cea secercccintess 21, 49, 74, 221, 238, 249
Ratilesnakes sass oc joosc cess so cciseecisa dean se oc sew acee en ae soe ee on eee ee 160, 325, 379, 380
RGfOLMG Sac caits cece secre coednlas ss sams oa seis ssacis 5 a See ieee aaa ie hee ee ee eee UD ODO Rao
Re'hos THe a2 aie: josie fejaterntate wreciee waren eres acleyenla Settee oeicisaiae de clos Seas ae eee ae ee 228
Relations of tribes!-atq ects oe tne tone ene socio ceeehinee ee eee 72, 87, 147, 149, 177, 238, 254, 264, 275
Relatives :< icc: seen Sas wees stieleeis be ctepgeie ee eioetelodso Socnisc aes eec esos eee ee ae 177, 192, 271, 348, 356
Purchase of 2.472 a2 so dsoes eco hss, oscge- does sSee se bec eee stone ae Oe eee 221
Religiousideas::-a-7..--o.2r = ee le ce een mente Seiecieutatee ee eeee 24, 83, 133, 147, 161, 174, 199, 224, 259, 413
Revival An Indian 525 32s ocsccess soccsdon scarce oncu.coas tae setee tease ce sas eee eee ee 208
RoehrigProfwk sO : 225525 ssccccinscacias sn sss sos Sao eeeeeetecenes se costes ee eee 493, 515, 537, 558
Robbins eMr tha Bassa sc osgstsas sean ed\aas oekooss aoe ce Seca Soe se ee eae 120
Rosborough, Judge JiB.< s'Ss so ce = noes we cane isa dcas sean =eaaeecaeeee ee eeenee 539
CrizVvocibulary Ob the! 2.2 esse anncs- senda ndocess cose ccsocnesesaeae seen onieeeree 539
ne aVOGAD UAT yEOENbNOtsssaan see ane cee scene seceetee can seostaessee sees Pees Hoar 561
Nira Raulerson pease Seen ame a Sone aie cea accicccidan sass esene ne Gane eee 284, 418
HCRMMACHEL MM TP AMl sane anita e a scisecalee'- bcc cei oeeedaclsaeledeces Soce abe thaecesee eee ees 104
SBCTOMBOCICLICN cee = chee Son oe eisine ee cise cd Soe b cen cee eos eewes «a soa See ee eee eee 158, 305, 406
SUMS MPOCADUIALVON PDO tseoa- ee. sees cas saa e ces sate a aele ness ssn eae see sneer 599
Stethh PIRES el ae ae a ee ee ere SS URer atone 83, 169, 173, 181, 406
He-Ne Deller iNnkantnvure StabOl sas a.c'sssonw eo sec cs cavajeavieaaceeet ie eeete can eee eee eee 170,171
MULAN CUBLOMS creo ose (ete a ~e-ce socisine wee sence asnnactaaeslebon vacmas.c ssecee a aeeslenaees 169
CIE Scab acco COS EOAII RE EOD CDOT BD BEDE HORS DOS Ede OOn CoE Ce ene aero Homma EEC Raa macoas 169
Wa0dlot ihe 222o24 scot cost icceees Sees inct eae sac ase ease eaesisacuselsssseccueceseoosianee 168
Habrtatio£ the 2. 3--5-ceocsdecccexe BOC OCL EE ORE CED DE SO OEE C ES Be nOn ono ceneeen caserric 168
LAW RECS tea Sak Chea Cee Be DISO CATS SORE OR ECHO RESO COO COSI ETE a OSPR ae> hone GEER apse -Sscce 168
ME (eee pe Cocolconc A eS OCLO EDI 0 races CUnan COLO cSt ean CCSD EE OSES Bees Oa 169
BolinicalorcaniZ amon Onmune seecema stoma oe) seis tise eo es) nnls (eee ees Bosbocowatoas 168
Relipionsiders OlnGsemeace se cee see coos le eine sane ale seeos Saas Seles eae nls 3s ateieee 171
Self-torture ofthe: p50 i << cc poo ca sc os ces ence es ss coe ce sce acwss=seeestes sso>acecee 169
Stemlo ay OmenOmihee sams aaenisnce sa =aes ass sei eaee ae alea alee aoe epese eae 169
Supersiitiouspeletsiotihexsseet- oss seas yee see a eee eee eae eee ee meee eae 169
SLES OE TT Sie OO) BOCES CACC IDOCd Done oc eC nT REE Ee 24, 26, 27, 68, 78, 91, 142, 152, 181, 225, 239, 270, 345, 354
Shasta family, Vocabularies of the .... ..-... .-.--. ------ ------ ---< CHR CA SSE Gna ro eAceicca 607
Vocabulary of the -...--...-. CA. COBB SDD AEE SOOCOE CIUCEC BEAC DET CBOs SECELORSEE SE Onea06 608
Shas-te, Vocabulary of the.-..... SOY SIS CCEIR OCC CHET CSE CO$ SEED BOG e SHOR ASIEK EOE SRO ose 608
Shas-tiewViocapularyiOtsun@s tease eee atau, canton House eles Dose seen cee sers eee eee 608
Shas-ti'-kavburialicnustonis\.siss50 sess cae wacew coed acas s2s0 Sos seeoaeeeseeeS 249
COULISINPLANGUMATMAl Owes (ase ose see oe ale rics hers oss enas ows acpob saisecuees teaseeene 247
ANCONA eeE eee nape Ren eens occ, oe cone Sa eoe Sas cee ere eeeevs acseseossee res 50
MDE CaN Gini Oe easel eee os case nica seacre se sane seb aeration neecsess eee ees 244
GIiVASIOMLOLAMDOL os <5 waoe cas Sesion -* -noae=s san sac se cose cae sancnsesscasseeeeaee 249
Gxchaue OOP MAINES easton a == oem es eee else eae fae oes sane aeoces qsocice cece ee 247
TET indo FeacaS SCS OIECE AOA E0 OSS E Se EEE SE SAA eI eerie: i te 249
HOO GKOMPNO pe seemee neato nao ta Stas ou pany vocessresicse sina canes tenelenee's seni saweweae 245
WEI EETS mcomacic acs ncecee Eee TECEEO OSS BEBE ND CHU SSD ONS SAORI cannce BaeeaD esas 250
NOM esi reeer tes sores aoe elew sons. co Sat osesaaslca nel ene cos ceecceeslacecoccuelccceccas 245
MEMICAIADIACHICO! on lalv concn sssacc scnses seccnceseecesescceseccds seteoaseob ud eeeses 249
MUI PT AMONG sop cee oar ner no oc o.v ap oaccn's oocleo'sace soccusecuicve sew sjencetenccsteders 244
HOMO AUTOM ae NOI aNNees a2 502 ool Sees ceccnet cavtccces cosceunn cs cnecesstesoeeee 15, 245
numerals .-.... eee teen tances sous stnisasaacances canoes eeeceemetaeacassosceeees f 250
Onginalhabitationtheress 22. sssecs1<'s02 525500 scecss vanensvooeacececes AO SEaS CCC 243
ENING c Alen ARACKPMINUICAOLM EHO: S53. cise ccz ness cnccestent ostacetetecennteaceeres 243, 246
Political organization of the.-..-. RHEE OCU DAESLOCCEEEO BAOBES HEDaEA BOSOcabensEo mao 243, 246
630 i INDEX.
Shas-ti’-ka, Primitive dress of the.......--.-.----- ore seas esoasaeeeeS ieraceheSeeccwse ee peo 246
punishmeént.of adultery: ._<-<- 2.2 cac scien csecese sce ememrsaecemasics see S.cesO cance] Se 246
BTS (2) Ys Se eee DoCS OG Bo Seas on sen ed oS soso ceo bass ecemsorers 246
relationship to Oregon: Indians.<. <2). -21 accessed ce naselsae aan ease eeisee ate areca 243
Relimiousndeasioh nesses aes eee este nic obeiine so oecsleceiscciee = Serene eee seecee 251
BWENE-DOUSO=s-e 41 Seek sce eee eceeeere PASI RDO OTS BOS SOE OO HOSEA T Osoe so cen sec soeS 243
theoryyof ereablony. =< ae ase ADS) ZO. 2de) GUS TOAN OO TeAGOORAGe
Stones Misbivi ne stone jens hye cc yess cnc cia selects awa Weal a enios oda ceeiale Sees ae eee ieee ee 519
SUCIOO) so eyeran ete aaiscicinsie bias over Roine oe Taw soad Ao aels Hoste oq Caco ase Ota e eects a ee 259
Hanshinewbondnesspforoc cece wee cee wee cece ts oes me eiac cows ae aeawaecs o— neem eee eee REM GS ZG
DUPErspillOnS eer ei sees «cee Pola Soe oo SS ate te, Jae cieiece cae ken ee 31, 57, 58, 87, 98, 124, 144, 260
Sabter; Capt Jolin Aaj h<8.5s5oncciectaconisince Cancionre cue) ak aerssaiereausieees aoe tenons een eee 322
BIVe a Houser sass sts actos Meee aicgs = Scere See deceit ce alos Sarees Wie atime aoe See See 15, 93, 244, 594, 436
Palutai, Voenbularyiofithe sa scacicocecsesias sSectosetis teaicicesfaecese cee eis a ae aie ae Ee 552
AN ERS SH eSe terre oa saan ace rant ita SeO ha Gaye Sewn eeeee oaiee Saree 41, 60, 83, 134, 137, 184, 208, 217, 240, 288, 329
Wuttagibe eee oeesc tka. M6 No 5522 oe ae ep renccececadene due deen ages DU ONSET IUD eI SMIAa pote
Pal-tuiassem bly shale -h22stesesacs herkccwecewes Cans esiee ws nerascacerensGaereee Sel Ree EERE eee 139, 141
beliefinia intone states -.5o.0:1<5 sens acco am as awonycacies cece aa maeeermacaene Genin Sane cena kee meee Sp css on aescsce coogeocere 143, 144
Diseases:of thes 2225 32 Sais ges.c- 9, tao nese e at awe ean Sales anne a Mena L Eee eee 139
Habitatiof, the: stss< wo nel-= no inww ww sinne=n-i-~e=n === 491
Santa Barbara family ...-.. ..-.-.---- .22eee coon ee cee ene cee e ee cece ee eee 560
Shas -tadamilypsasnes sos seen ain oe - so ieel enon eae = 2a) ing) en= > omnia = 607
Wish-osk family ...-.. 222. 2-200 cone cnn e ne cee ne nee nnn eens serene nents 478
VALTER 2953 esee none acee BBSn Besn OODOnced Secu Seater ao eso cecooOmenn 570
Wolk family; .-2-- 2s--5 ences ence -- samen civecemiieltonn sans saceaeian es 433
Ninl-roks tamil yeos ees aac ee nies e-ieseeeese arenes sec cne Aelesinse~nninaas 460
632 INDEX.
Page.
Wailslak-kigdances!.-c-=-cteserieceeceise-octereceree ee ee Chocoapd06Ses5 no bosscc'sc sonbooeenesss 118
Derivationof the term cese. ance |e scienee melee em eesee secs saatee eee eee 114
AISHIN Lowe ewe lene eco en cinn) enc onesem ane anica else seas ee aetscec eae eee eeen cesseeeee 117
Hoodiofithe Geese esserer cee cst ees acne SiSoleSion one teas ae omeaets asec 117
Habitat of the. -s-\2c<.:s-2c secnceleseccpisewensise tenes conics anes tee ee taaeeeeioees 114
Janpuapet:. seks" omoca weer ae ese eee ses ae aarheeeeee ene eee Seeeeuioouscccsan 114
IOs neg ced cond pend cone oceoabtisacsed bobo ees See meee oe Py Secbocdsnecmrsccro 116
Mental'characteristicsiof the’: - sec <<. dicojo5esecle se ceases sense seals seen e ee seneeers 119
BL EO) | vee o SAECO OSSC CER Cabo See ECC OSE SSE SACU mE e CODEnS Hoc Beaoioneacis saacnt - 115,116
numerals .... ...-.-./ BRO EE IEE O SEL BOSH CBO SOE ACO CEOS OE Seine SnSOCeaIcSsoKseg seca 116
OLMNAM CNUS ee etetania fa altaiaayanvm aloe mete mintecion |e aeate ete ate tonne eae kee aise tale tt 116
SHMTES ANAS TAPS meme sate rae = eens Meee cia esol als ice sarees site eet eee 117
LUI) UY po eee CRO OISCOOD: ocd Bsc SOCURS Bobo CABEO BROOD secs SCORES CEbeAD acedod sec 116
traitsoficharadter=<- =. c.<- ceeseoce te. sadcceancscen ce sone ee se see e ere eee eee 119
Wantiof filial piety<.ctce acter orenie salen o oa Sa ersten = cere neeteis einai ne anes ieee ee 118
VIVE RS MBE IDR Cp Gee peop mo corr OSRc oO SHOES OOS ESS MncEES caotes scocetcsoodoocccandsecodncetcs 374
\WEYONO e555, doeses ceceso oSecey SOS S SSE SeSOe6 CIBER Son Scae Sasi SeShos HOSES SSosconACOSS sees 196
Wa-pum-nig Numerals: of the:s=<..-2 ss teccse ot ooceseec\scisceceacee es senisnoeeees eae eeee eee 313
Wiariand weapons te-sea=ors CHES COC AG, 49, 51, 59
ISIN RRM ACEI WN aac ae oL See eo Ese den Habe Hece uae tore BoDcor ba asnoSne> aoatoceoeaod 44
MUM GN Pye oes as ee a ale ose re rem ohn ome aed ei simian minim mln = emo mine oom iaemiemeel= 53
implements and utensils..-.-...--------------+---- +--+ 2+ +--+ 22-2 ee ee cece ee eee eee 47, 48
Industry of the ..---- -----. .---- = == <2 a0 nee ne eens nn eon wenn ne nese oc a= meee sane 46
language -.----- 4.2222. conn oe ene nn nen wen ne neers Senne eer se esos serars conn 44
192350 Sign BeeG ceeeAan Baebes DeSoE aCe no Bocmes COsb hes SS0CCn ie O7CIboC UCoGr eo se Coe cede 59, 60, 62
lodges... --. -- .- -- = --=-- ce ecee cece ee eee ee ee ne eee nn ene ene cone nnn cone cone nnn ne 45
mourning ceremonies... .-----.----- ---- ---- -- -- 2-5 -- 2222 eee eee ee eee ee eee 58
Numbers Of themes as areca rec tease caine nian = rales = onic lem alateinlant stains ace maaan 59
TMI kL Gsc.a eee cane saar Colbea ised dass ceo Capa espe coba Sec neobeednaisc Base Sere neosos 45
opinion of the whites...-..--. .----- ------ 22-222 eee eee ee ee ee ee eee ee eee eee ee 63
Oath esase Sebago Ss oonb 6550 OHSS Sec CC SSE Pee OSES Coneos Garces” crnsscco cosa canoe 47, 52
Physical description of the..--.. .--.---------!------+ -- f----+ sees eee eee ee eee eee 44
Political organization of the....--.----- .----- ---- 220+ -- ee 222 eee ee ee eee eee eee 45
Saltitations) Ofte sane = sees ae eisai ieee inweelmeeln miter ano et ee rion anlanl= 58
Superstitious beliefs of the....-.-..----- ------------------+--- ++ +--+ ee rr cette eee 57, 63
tattooing... 6... <- 5 2 ae op we oe on a oe a nae ean ne ne a en ene eer ense 44
(EDN OAH 6 Sco cone Gonna ates ea nacS eos Gr Gai 6 BSE e Se Sor asks IS Beh Cae c 64 ooo soaps ae 50
\WOtR SIT?) te eo Os asp eine so rians So eee Shere ap eeoe re eeechcr BeOne. coe 463
Man TOKS TAVEN EO, Ave wea ace sae nae ain aalawtale) male cine win einlemieeleininin siminlomininieioimin\nlmlunininiwielmninm mnie ini= wim 60
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Linguistic Stocks
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Wish osk
YoU la
Potmo
Win -tiny’
Shastta
Mot dok
A-cho mitwi
Mai du
Mat sun
You kuts.
San Antonio
Santo Barbara
Washo
Sho shot ni
Yura
ween eee ea------ 55
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DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR
U.S.Geographical and Geological Sarvey of the Rocky Mountain Region
J.W. POWELL in Charge.
MAP SHOWING THE DISTRIBUTION
OF THE INDAN TRIBES
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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION LIBRARIES
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