A TRAGEDY OF INDIAN LIFE.

Southland Times, Issue 1071, 11 December 1868, Page 2

A TRAGEDY OF INDIAN LIFE.

The following story, from the 'Milwaukee Wisconsin,' reads like a romance of Cooper's, condensed, is said to be a record of facts gathered by a gentleman who is collecting material for a history of the Upper Mississippi valley : — " A party of thirty Winnebagoes came down from the late scalp dance at which the tribe was gathered on the Trempeleau river in the north, and encamped on lSrench*s Island, in the Mississippi river, just above the St. Paul Eailroad depot at the La Crosae. The band was under the control of a well-known chief of tne 1 Winnebagoes named Wau-kee-see-hoong-er-er, or Snake Chief, who had two wives, Se-es-ka and He-nee-kee. Se-es-ka was about thirty years of age, graceful in appearance, "with a pleasant look and interesting face. With whites she was a favorite, while with the Winnebagoes she was looked upon very kindly — -indeed, adored with all the ardour of Indian fervour. Snake Chief was a noted warrior of the Winnebagoes, and was very much liked by his tribe. He was a powerful brawny fellow, and, when sober, waspeaceful and goodnatured; when drunk, he wad ugly and disagreeable. One of his favorite pastimes, when in this condition, was beating his wives* On Eriday last Snake Chief returned Ito his wigwam drunk. Se-es-ka was in the wigwam, and the chief commenced beating her over the head and shoulders. Driven to desperation and unable longer to stand his brutality, Se-es-ka drew her knife and stabbed the chief twice the blade penetrating the heart of the warrior, who died instantly while the first notes of the death song were on hig lips. The affair at once created a sensation among the Winnebagoeas, who did not know how to act. They loved their chief, and they loved their chieftain's wife. It is a well-known 'regulation' among the Indians that when a man is slain, a relative must avenge his death by taking the life of the slayer. Se-es-ka knew this. Some of the Winnebagoes urged her to fly, but she would not* With true Indian resignation, she folded her blanket about her and sat down in her wigwam, facing the door, and awaited her avenger. It is believed by many that He-nee-kee, the younger and favorite wife, would be the avenger, but she seems to have had no such intention. She mourned the loss of her husband, but took no steps further than to send a runner up the Trempeleau where Snake Chiefs relatives were, to notify them of what had taken place. Meanwhile. Se-es-ka sat in her cabin chanting the death song, stoically indifferent to what was going on about her, and only talking when questions were asked her. On Sunday morning an Indian from Trempeleau made his appearance in the camp. He was known as Chan-no-ne-ga, and had evidently travelled without halting since he learned of the death of Snake Chief. Entering the camp, without a word he walked solemnly to the place where the body of Snake Chief lay, took a long look at it, and then turned sullenly away. Nobody spoke to him, yet all watched with interest his movements. Deliberately loading his gun with buckshot, he uninterruptedly walked deliberately to the wigwam where Se-es-ka sat, she having remained there since the murder, took one look at the woman, who loudlychanted the death song. Not a muscle of the woman's face proved to denote that she labored under any excitement, but she sat there quietly and calmly, her eyes moving upwards, and her voice, as the uncouth song escaped her lips, steady aud firm. She knew that the avenger was before her — that in another moment her spirit would leave its frail tenement of clay, and seek that of the chief who had gone before her; yet no look nor sign indicated that she feared the fate. Such is Indian stoicism and indifference. The eyes of the two did not meet. In the'face of Chan-no-ne-ga there was a look of mingled hate and revenge. Deliberately he raised his musket to his shoulder — deliberately he aimed it at the women's head — coolly he fired. The report ran out through the Indian campr— the smoke cleared away — Se-es-ka still sat there — her blanket about her — her arms folded — but one side of her head was blown completely away — her spirit had fled, and the code of Indian justice was satisfied. — Wau-kee-see-hoong-er-er was avenged. The murderer, with just a look to satisfy him that his work had been well done, shouldered his musket and walked deliberately out of the camp. Nobody spoke to him — nobody offered any interference, and stepping into his canoe, he paddled to the shore, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the Winnebagoes stupefied."