be tt es . = = : - SN accent ann nes nea rere ne re te ware ehcntee nae eersteateseege pre aacuataeee cineca aa shine yg a aiaieaees nar porerheeanrerrenarhmeet ees Paty ng ean Nee es bene wae a oe \\ (From a sketch by A. W. Chase.) Kl Hl, 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. Peay nee 4 ot WASHINGTON: GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFIOR SMe a . 7 beer ¥ eli? Filios nea wz Pe ide " 7 ‘ Pee oe rx. or : pint, hay 1% ; avers ieee C yeahs ee hPa, : (ay wi fae, ay heey ii ais Aa : et are Oo eta Ue me bes bel; ink Se FY Cheetos ae ys Te Septic ne site i bade “ut itr j MAR Pe * beueticedie fT ia urea fa piers ree Ave 7. wt Onl’ r ie _ not {qr Gia P xo) Mpegs! od ; Yer ee, wl $e oe 2 ‘% aoe Mite dae omy ee ny pe oe an Pre e ; . a ibs ‘a oot Ad gat ast hi pn. in sf 2s . ee re a oF bh aiy ve “lke et eve Bones ; ip hagrtihs oy a : — . Peg koe al - i > ne t J Hal *. é lig 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, At Rog he ete res TE " " - p iy Witeue ns a 7. Wa a hom ty i; - : > - 4 i t ~ @ On : had ker wt Ine , — walt ON tii, “ent Sh 4 Ply ~" ry 4 : . « ut ’ 70 t ‘ 4 oe. +P ay “ = a. > , ‘ EN iki : . vw 1 ‘ - . \ | . oo Oye 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 Oe 4 fag oe Ton” Bis ri %. ae ahi at is, a. ah " : ‘oat Sa a eel os : = 4 "Shpigt | N05 ap Want Va" ‘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 : aay | ‘Hedte veh e “as a * / bem ie hc, Dy! ee as ¥ a A eee > ae ue ir 3:43 >0) «eae oy ol) ae ee See serge ~ 4 is e i ; : hb < : 1 : : - % ‘ - c : , *. i . rs . a é : ca . ; s ri _ a . ; : = zi * : a 5 0 1) ' ‘ a = 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. Mes! pa a wf : Be se mini » ooo : Qa %y © ¢yi ry . . - - mers 7 : at Peale « : ‘ = i 1 .. : es ay svehalee za ; Ps oe hoe aL. ae , 4 . > Fl Sito y ve o = : ? ® 3 i ‘ 4 , e “4 | . | = an 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 J 1¢ | a Loe wih, 7 ah re. _ an ~ OR Sa kB Palys aid ‘epcral iol gon 3 ate = ‘ one Me _ a “i o? vw Tie Ly Pte La: 2 x © a ‘ i y 2 Hy - > — : ‘ “1 7 - _ * “ - 5 = Af 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 Figure 8-—Nish-fang. ‘alder ver ‘ et 4 i As | Nee 4)\ ‘ vii ae Gt all ‘ Pa i =. ‘( # j ity gis aig * aie s ate,’ - 7 ‘ = ' SP in Ky 4 (; i se) et PL if ay ages ya 6 : : a * ; 45 F jay yaa iba afte oA : 7 Pw) b aa! - itt, i - LJ i ‘ eee . i: corte” sche le Site Od ag Nib OY i SD, + cole. ‘ % : : 1 . ° ° ’ wets . > 4 “4 >. . - ' . r i” % 7 . i . - - i 4 = e : om = a +5 Sm ee hs _! - ria Pit ee F i. 1 =p ° Ay. . : 7 , F a . : o — ve 4 : ‘J a ma 7 i « ‘ ws + \ _ vis iy x 1 a hep, : . , es oe ae 7 s - — Re i Aes & as 7 Ps Uy a. ¢ - ear “vr ~ *. = ww 2 as : . , ‘ a j . * . " r 7 ° 7 z ’ ° é + . - 3 c ae ; ° : . ae a * : : ee : © - 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 5 MAKING ARROW. HEADS—THANKSGIVING DANCE. ‘105 River Indians:- “* * * ! ‘ i" i . t ; _ : ’ es F > ’ > ' + , s bed ® e 4 : , grey * - , . 2 * e = i f . 2 fs 7 \ ss - i “ | # rt ’ . . . i * - wee ‘ . 2 « : * + ' | of . ' : E 5 © 7 a 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 Figure 11.—Yn‘-ki Tattooing. = hs 5 ”, - : ‘. Fb, Soe ha ‘ e = . ue Date | +e i a, roy 2 yi Hy 7 m , m Mer af Barat Ne SA =| . “4 We hla > 7 <_e r ey x ; i cee? o = . © ~ 7 . ; : Pe >< ifs jr? a2 _ . = 4 = ee ae 7 . ' ” ; freee “alt ™ a) ' 7 *” fe aa? ~ ah ‘ airhl > - ‘ou J : Py : — ahs “ 4 ho mao i ; A > nis? : ‘ -—& ll es = - A a *: wa - = 7 P pie “ “i — a) + _ a — = a: . : 7 a ’ ' ' - = 7 5 = fils - . a ne F imeis =); |e : By ‘. te q ‘als ‘ ny ey oi . 2. ot aa WG Sng) aaa * ° {i al y a — i ’ ao f oe 3 7 ~< . . 7 e ? ° » P my - a a +* : a : G = 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 ys : ene oe ee | Figure 13.—Hiich’-nom Tattooing. * ~ # E « < é ' ‘ c= — Wiens bx 7 - ee ae */, Bh. oo” DEE nah > VA ac *" 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 [I a es See eer Se a ye tte oF Pee ee aes = H t [eee eH \. UES Rae a) 1 Ee ee E24 iS Sareea SS Sa ae him-ai-na matinne himaina tohie “apne en hte Ly ee ee ee ee sls | J qanicid.s> 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 Plan of OLD SE-MEL ft i) Figure 19, =e Wyn, ——— ec wt is », wu Mins My i » Wills dis RYE ee. Pans can es NSS 4 » : " {p20 ce} ° ce) ‘ \ ro) ° ho fe) ce) ° \ é. ° i co} ° ° ° A wm (3) ‘> e) ie) 2) \ fe) o go8}| o} o ° 5 \\ = \ d eee) fa) fe} oN fo) ° ray (e) == @ ‘ ° © ° — Ny = o 4 0 of, Oo ° Sue \ ae ° o |\ oO fe) ce) 4 EZ wy, \ = C7 \ Zz = O 3 ° . fe) ) fo) aoe fo) ° OM fo) ° %w \\ = Qin) be) = v o) (e) } (a) co) ° ° © .| 0 @ || © \ (S| c|'° ©} e ‘ OF eu | G iS). ASSEMBLYHOUSE. AY ANY v rey i rae aapthont > erie Aly “hak per] vay ‘a rani nei : gare Penh GA Bil? sim he a alle At ’ 2 bed ui a fee 2.104 holst. aN ; eet ir AZ wed te r Nites tt hae oR Hate jeri ene ' ; “rt sd fa pelted es WM pay mrt via pa nas ' “% : = ‘ 5° -? Lor at) 1) uae dae f Cult j iY aL oa a zy bigl init y Batti : Aaaealat : ai G1 Gore tire wid, raja —™ 7 : ~t i ¢ ne Lad . J r I : rie NLA. GU : ; eZ A , * f ; al + [ bad PL ES sh “a my eee fi woe, ss WP l Rigs pe eae a | np a . 7 ae es bathe igi i “tee ie a i : 5 + ‘ get ' : ; tint) Aa oy wt a | a4 f eS a We s/f luimnte " 5 baa : yo fi Gah aw ae AME ‘ a as ‘ r iy . * sik | Z + *< 3 ii si ae ra I u (i> oie | e ~ ‘ 4 i F a? t + i Pel - . ‘ . i bef 4 ; i 4 7. é =" 4 : N 4 J ; “aL &s } 4 -_ - = i 7 * ' i] 5 *, ad e + : é + - | - Rn reales : . ‘ ! Pi is s ry . . | @ 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 oy i -“ 7 a ie 1 wir nie S alic @ in on7" = 5 ee f My Bal este eee) eee eae ie) eee aa Ta hae ain, 4 Vad aM tz aig vi haul fies eT, eo aan re ae at! a a - + ih aa "é me OTT AGI, ST « Ewe 4 ae re yay) uy 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 “ ae as , Noy ethen Maiti a Trey Le a my ‘o “ ° ei gece (3 Pe a ve pd , % vee) P a i. wibeen opal ’ 7 ‘ r - ‘<<, vt = 4 a8 7 ’ >: i z ‘ < Sb 1 > | =. 4 4 ‘ ’ . ° > . ’ Yh ? ae: . ge ae eo 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 a Satine « ics ee ot ni Sir mee " a eee 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. me | 1 i NY ie fe Seay - ae > ‘ * ~ ‘ cae ‘ — 1 . je a v i ne eee 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 Figure 25.—Mai’-du Lodge in the high Sierra. eT ¥ . a ee eee Pa be v= ’ en SS. ed ree , all ven ict, Ah vy een ea eb i; Gth78. Li eit, watas ray! they ot 9 os a eS oe rel we peed: ‘pry 22 v hy > aN be | =? patie th Lot pare? qr i = / Bel tc by = " a ae ¥ - 2 t- Ojasy ve i MOB es An (eG UAT oe A ms * 5 . * i : = be a) | 4hiryy ‘ ths as ee re ! bits 3 M caer : 6 Pere uiswa LY heres Sse tits Mited? Shae bode hoa. ; * aT ee ee | ill ot Sel ae + a 2 * *; . v a eo iO. 1 Voe8 % . yw = ' 5 ad : 1 ~ ri A ‘> i i 4 = . “ . ; ® - real 4! 5 T} —- - : . a i eee — de ee ans Tey a uae oer ne ars # = i rad’ | 9 yuan)” ee ee ‘ a ' aL ane ' * oe = * _ * - - ' ‘ “ * \ ‘ & ia . “1 ‘ - ‘ . . + $ . 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. 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 1 ) fi ) Mie a . j ee isis * ; Patsy © etree . 4 (eth ol, Ska OR aha Mc ial es st I al ea PL bs twee! _ 1 7 : ae r ian oo y RS ee: “ate De * haga) ees ¢ ent id a) ee ES ie it gine AEE ihe ; ae : — aU Ts ne < Syl ee oe ga a 3 1k, \ - Da oe BN 2 al hy ko oe a Pine c)) aang Se) y a +4) ya ee : a ‘ - Greil. sre mit i i 2 Feirk ‘ F > ; we i 7 me a ii wy ¥ ~ i c al “ > an h(n fell ee 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.) e ees h f ; p , : j Ca ay: : ps. fe a, ae Trae See : 2.7, Ah y j . P . S ae | se . teas - 1 f * ? rer ae ‘ot % 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 SSS 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. ‘ 4 » : , > } ; 2 - ‘ . ‘ y ’ “ H { 4 9 4 Pd wins a9 - M a i . ee 1S ae ae : : 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 “sas pory of, 93NY-,OX—'GE WNSLT ie = S$ 1OHIN toe : : Se ig 3 Se 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. a we 72 ee ' en aes aod ta a oe ee a sis re anal twas a) A, TL adesaph yas ie AAS oN ieee a “4 * Ee » I J , i @ % * ? . F . « ; vie i ‘ Ks ’ a i“ i - q M ’ ’ - . ¢ , e 4 - ~~ Li y a i 5 ; — ; + . ’ ~ - t - o r ¥ » . P ool 2 ’ " ’ 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 -- 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 io) LUT Tat et Leta a tie | sgn eel tian erion= nv 6" Linguistic Stocks Tumneh Vitrok Kat rok Chim ari ko, 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 we 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 i CAL HORNIA l ~ » PN \ \ : yy NS. PB ~~ eas bo Ne ¥ aN f \ ~U/ 2 N Fos Sa X Sy . Li = | ez en f aT! I SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION LIBRARIES Mt NTT 3 9088 00596 0026