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                          THE INDIAN CAPTIVE

                              A NARRATIVE
                                OF THE
                       Adventures and Sufferings

                                  OF
                            MATTHEW BRAYTON

                                IN HIS
                    THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OF CAPTIVITY
                               AMONG THE
                   INDIANS OF NORTH-WESTERN AMERICA


                            FOSTORIA, OHIO.
                      THE GRAY PRINTING COMPANY,
                                 1896.


                        COPYRIGHT APPLIED FOR




PREFACE


The following brief narrative of the unparalleled adventures of
MATTHEW BRAYTON is compiled for the satisfaction of those who wished
to preserve a memorial of his romantic history.

Extraordinary as the incidents may appear, there is abundant proof
of their entire truth. Living witnesses bear testimony to the
circumstances of the mysterious loss of the hero, and his identity
is established by incontrovertible proofs. Numerous circumstances
also confirm the account given by him of his adventures during the
thirty-four years spent among the Indians.




THE INDIAN CAPTIVE




CHAPTER I.

THE LOST CHILD.


That portion of North-western Ohio, situated to the South-east of
the Black Swamp, was but sparsely settled at the close of the first
quarter of the present century. The hardy pioneers who had left their
New England homes to open up the Western wilds, here and there built
their modest dwellings and tilled the few acres won from the dense
forest and luxuriant prairie. The dusky aborigines, driven from all
other parts of Ohio, clung tenaciously to this comparatively neglected
spot, and the smoke from the log hut of the settler rose within sight
of the Indian wigwam. The two races were at peace with each other, for
neither cared to convert a passive neighbor into an active enemy. The
Indians had realized their inability to drive back the constantly
advancing wave of civilization, and the white settlers had no desire
to provoke the savage retaliations of their dusky neighbors unless
compelled by necessity to do so.

In the neighborhood of the junction between the Sandusky and Tymochte
rivers, in Wyandot county, a remnant of the once powerful Wyandot
tribe still remained. One of their villages was at Upper Sandusky, and
another at Springville, in Seneca county. A small band of Senecas were
also located in the neighborhood, and some scattered Ottawas had their
wigwams on Blanchard's Fork, a few miles to the west of the Wyandot
settlements. An Indian trail led from Upper Sandusky to Springville,
and thence, through the Black Swamp, to Perrysburg. At the latter
place it crossed the Maumee, and reached the shore of the Detroit
river opposite Malden, in Canada. Some of the Indians living in the
North-west of Ohio had sided with the British in the war of 1812, and
these annually crossed over to Malden to receive their presents of
guns, ammunition and blankets. The Canadian Indians sometimes visited
their dusky brethren in Ohio, and thus the trail was frequently
traversed.

Among the settlers who had located themselves in the neighborhood of
the Wyandot villages was Elijah Brayton, a thrifty farmer from New
England, who had established himself near the Tymochte river in what
is now Crawford township, Wyandot county. In the year 1825, Mr.
Brayton was thirty-nine years of age, and his family consisted of his
wife and their six children, William, Harriet, Lucy, Matthew, Mary and
Peter. In that year Mr. Brayton was busy erecting a mill on the
Tymochte, and towards the fall of the year he went to Chillicothe for
the purpose of bringing up the mill-stones. The journey at that time
was long and tedious, and the home affairs were entrusted in his
absence to Mrs. Brayton and the eldest son William, then a lad of
sixteen.

On the 20th of September, 1825, William Brayton, with his younger
brother Matthew, then nearly seven and a half years old, started out
to hunt up some stray cattle. They proceeded for two or three miles in
the direction of the spot where William Brayton at present lives, but
found no traces of the missing cattle. Here they met a neighbor named
Hart, who was also looking for stray cattle. Matthew had become tired,
and declared his inability to proceed any farther. After a short
consultation it was agreed that William Brayton and Hart should
proceed in search of the cattle, and that Matthew should take the path
which led to the house of Mr. Baker, about sixty rods distant, where
he could amuse himself with his young playmates until the return of
William. The two set out on their cattle hunting expedition, leaving
little Matthew to pursue his way along the narrow and ill-defined
path.

At the close of the day's search, William Brayton called at Mr.
Baker's house for his little brother. To his astonishment he learned
that Matthew had not been seen by any of the family. He then turned
his steps homeward, thinking that Matthew had changed his mind and
gone home, but on arriving there no tidings of the missing boy met
him. The alarm and apprehension that filled the breast of the mother
may be conceived. A thousand fearful thoughts flitted through her mind
in rapid succession. But no time was lost in useless grieving. The men
and women who braved the dangers of frontier life were quick to think
and prompt to act. A little party turned out at once to search for the
missing boy and restore him, if possible, to the anxious household.
From the spot where the brothers had parted, the path to Mr. Baker's
house was narrowly searched, and the marks of the child's feet were
clearly discernible. At no great distance from the commencement of the
path it was intersected by a track made by some logs recently drawn
from the woods. At this point the traces showed that Matthew had
stopped in doubt. They also showed that he had finally taken the log
track in mistake for the regular path. Up that track his little
footsteps were traced for some distance, but, after awhile, they
became fainter, and at last disappeared altogether. The woods on the
margin of the track were searched in vain for traces of his feet.

The Indian trail, before spoken of, crossed the log track near where
the footsteps became invisible, and it was possible that he had taken
that trail; but his footmarks--if he had really followed that
path--had been obliterated by the feet of passing Indians.

The party sorrowfully returned from their unsuccessful search, and met
the anxious mother with heavy hearts. The night that followed was one
of sleepless agony to Mrs. Brayton. To what suffering, or dreadful
fate her little boy might be subjected, it was impossible to
conjecture, but the dark night and the lonely woods were fraught with
dangers to him and with terror to her. The absence of the father at
this critical juncture on so long and distant a journey, aggravated
the troubles and distress of the time.

Morning broke at last, and never was daylight more eagerly welcomed.
With the first dawn of light, messengers set out in all directions for
assistance, and soon the woods were astir with searching parties. The
Indian villages were examined, but the Wyandots professed entire
ignorance as to the movements of the missing boy, and joined with much
zeal in the search. The relations between the Braytons and the
Wyandots had been of the most friendly character, and there seemed to
be no possible reason for their interfering with the peace of that
family. They stated, however, that a party of Canadian Indians had
passed up the trail on the day that the boy disappeared, but could not
say whether he had been carried off by that party or not. Another
night came, and again the sorrowful mother met the dejected hunters at
her door and received no consolation. At daybreak the parties again
set out to search new tracts of country, but all without avail. Mr.
Bowe, still remembered in the neighborhood, acted as store keeper of
the party, and filled the bags of the searchers with meal as they
returned from their long expeditions. The settlers for many miles
around turned out in the exciting hunt. Days lengthened into weeks,
and then it became evident that all farther search was useless. Every
foot of territory for miles around had been examined and no trace of
the lost child could be discovered. He could scarcely have wandered
off and perished by starvation or wild beasts, for in either case some
trace would have been left. The only inference remaining was that he
had been snatched up by the party of Canadian Indians and carried off
into hopeless slavery, if not to meet a horrible death. Pursuit now
was useless, had the boy been thus carried off, and the search was
reluctantly abandoned.

Meantime Mr. Brayton had returned from his journey, and the sad
affliction that had befallen his house, fell with crushing weight on
his heart. For the sake of his wife and remaining children he bore up
nobly, but his distress was keen, and every straw of hope that floated
by was eagerly clutched at. From time to time came vague rumors of the
boy having been seen in different directions, and the faintest hope of
success sufficed to send off the bereaved father or some trusty
messenger to follow up the clue, but always without success. The last
information that assumed the appearance of probability was received in
1829, from a man who had been traveling among the Indian tribes of
Illinois, and who asserted that he had seen among the Indians of that
country a white child whose age and appearance corresponded generally
with that of the missing Matthew Brayton. Without an hour's delay Mr.
Brayton wrote to General Cass, then Indian Commissioner, but his
answer crushed out the last remnant of hope. The letter bade the
anxious father to renounce all hope based on such a rumor, for there
was no such white child among the Indians of Illinois. On what
authority the General based his assertion, cannot be said, but it is
more than probable that in this he was mistaken.

The weary years passed on but brought no comfort to the stricken
household. As all strong impressions fade in the course of time, so
faded away the memory of the loss from the minds of men. But deep in
the hearts of the parents remained the image of the lost boy, and the
thrilling scenes and emotions connected with the search of him
recurred again and again long after others had nearly forgotten the
incidents. The father never forgot him. His "lost Matthew" was ever in
his heart, and his name was often on his tongue. The oldest brother,
William, could not forget him, for the mother's reproaches, silent or
spoken, for his neglect in sending so young a boy alone on such a
path, sank deep into his heart. And could the mother that bore him
forget the missing lamb of the fold? The paling cheek, the wasting
form, the decaying strength told how deep the love, how bitter the
anguish of the mother for her lost son. If she were but sure of his
fate,--if but one rag of his clothes, but a particle of his body, had
remained to assure her that her darling had perished by wild beasts,
or been slain by still wilder men, it would at least have given rest
to her weary heart; but this torturing mystery was too great to be
borne. So the years dragged slowly onward, and each succeeding
anniversary of her boy's loss drove the sharp grief still deeper into
her heart, until sixteen years after the loss, she tired of this
world, and the peaceful turf closed over her sorrows. In her last
thoughts the memory of the lost boy had a place. She died of a broken
heart.

Matthew Brayton was born April 7th, 1818, and was therefore seven
years, five months and thirteen days old at the time of his loss.




CHAPTER II.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE.

    Stolen by Indians and traded from Tribe to Tribe -- Siouxs --
    Sioux Dog Dance -- Sold to the Snakes -- Digger Indians --
    Fight with the Diggers -- Utah -- Quarrels with the Blackfeet
    -- Flat Heads -- Snakes join Utahs, Crees, and Flat Heads --
    Join with Copper Heads.


The first seven or eight years of my captivity among the Indians were
so full of changes that I cannot distinctly remember the events that
occurred, and I am compelled to trust to the accounts given me by the
members of the various tribes who were cognizant of the circumstances.
From their statements I learn that I was taken from Ohio by a party of
Canadian Indians, and by them borne to their village in Canada. The
only motive alleged to me for the theft was that the party who stole
me had a difference with some white families in Ohio, and that I was
taken out of revenge. Among these Indians I remained secreted for some
time, the tribe fearing to let me be seen by white men lest I should
be taken away.

From all that I can learn, I remained some six or seven months with
this tribe, and was then sold to a party of Pottawottomies, who took
me across to Michigan. The compensation obtained for me by the
Canadian tribe consisted of three and a half gallons of whiskey. With
my new owners I remained about half a year, when the Pottawottomies
either being afraid to keep me any longer, or having an unappeasable
thirst for whiskey, traded me off to the Paw-Paws for five and a half
gallons of firewater. I could not say how long I remained in Michigan
with this tribe, but I was at length transferred to the Winnebagoes of
Illinois, my value having increased with my age to the amount of seven
and a half gallons of whiskey. I did not remain long with this tribe,
but was sold to the Wisconsin Chippewas for nine and a half gallons of
whiskey, and with them remained one year. From the Chippewas I passed
into the hands of the Siouxs in Minnesota, and remained with them
nearly three years. During my stay with the Siouxs I visited the site
of what now forms the city of St. Paul. In that vicinity there were
then seven shanties or huts, made of poles and sticks set up endways.
Two or three French and Dutch, with some Indians then occupied the
place.

About the ninth year of my captivity among the Indians, the band of
Siouxs to which I belonged made an expedition westward. In the course
of their hunt they came on a tribe of Snake Indians. The Snakes and
Siouxs were generally at war, but there was peace between these two
parties. Some differences that had occurred between the bands were
settled at the meeting, and the Siouxs celebrated the fact by a great
Dog-Dance.

This dance is peculiar to the Siouxs, and I never saw it at any other
time. The manner of doing it was this:--A party of warriors squat
around in a circle, smoking and talking. A dog is then taken and its
legs tied, after which it is thrown into the circle of warriors. One
of the "medicine men" kills the animal with his tomahawk, cuts open
its side and takes out its liver, which is cut into strips and hung on
a pole nearly the height of a man. The warriors spring to their feet
and commence dancing around it; all the while smacking their lips and
making grimaces as if they were anxious to have a taste of the
delicious meat. In a short time one of the dancers makes a grab at the
liver and bites off a piece, which he chews and swallows as he dances.
Then the others follow his example until all the liver is eaten. If
any of the pieces should drop, the "medicine man" picks it up and
carries it in the palm of his hand for the dancers to eat, after doing
which they lick his hand. As soon as the liver is all eaten, the
warriors sit down as before, and wait to see if another dog is thrown
in. As long as any one gives a dog, they are compelled to eat its
liver raw and warm, and no one is allowed to handle it except the
"medicine man." Women are forbidden to join in this dance. The Siouxs
think that those who thus eat the liver of the dog will possess that
animal's bravery and sagacity.

Before the meeting was over, the Snakes took a great fancy to me, and
in order to celebrate their new made truce the Siouxs offered to trade
me to the Snakes for eleven gallons of whiskey, which was done, and I
was once more transferred to new masters.

My new owners made me change my dress and paint to conform to their
style, and I was adopted into the tribe. An Indian who had lost a son
in battle took me into his family, and from that time forth I was told
to consider him as my father, and his squaw as my mother. But although
thus made one of themselves, the Indians did not fail to treat me with
considerable harshness, and I was compelled to do some of the severe
drudgery usually imposed on women.

The Snakes at that time hunted in Iowa, but in about a year after my
joining them they had repeated quarrels with other tribes, and with
the whites. For a few months they remained in Missouri, but eventually
packed up and struck the trail for the west side of the Rocky
Mountains. Our tribe hunted through Utah for a while, but quarreled
with the tribes already in that country, and therefore we once more
pushed west, and crossing the mountains that divided us from
California, entered that country. Here we lived, for about five years,
generally at peace, but having occasional skirmishes with the Digger
Indians.

These Indians are a wretched and degenerate race, cowardly,
treacherous, filthy and indolent. Instead of living by hunting, as was
the case with our tribe, and nearly all the others east of the
California Mountains, these obtained a scanty subsistence by digging
for roots. The women do the digging whilst the men stay in the lodges
or are playing at some game. I have seen hundreds of the women at a
time out in this employment. They carry on their backs heavy baskets
of the shape of old fashioned straw beehives, and in their hands long
sticks with which to dig the roots. Early in the morning they go out
and keep at work until evening, when they return with their baskets
full of roots. Sometimes they procure enough not only for their
present eating, but to lay up for winter use.

The men among the Digger Indians wear very long hair, but that of the
women is cut short. Both are nearly naked, and filthy in the extreme.
Most of them are tatooed, the women especially displaying in general a
large number of designs on their person. They do this merely for
ornament, and not for the purpose of showing a difference in rank as
is the case in most tribes where the custom exists.

Their houses or lodges are very simple. In the summer they put a
number of bushes together in the shape of a cone, and into this they
creep for shelter from the sun by day, and to sleep by night. These
lodges or tents are more designed to keep off the rays of the sun than
for shelter from inclement weather. For the cold and wet seasons the
Diggers in the northern part of California have a different kind of
dwelling. They dig a pit several feet deep, of the size of the
proposed lodge. Then they drive poles into the earth around the edge
of the pit, and bend them over so that they will meet at the top,
where they are fastened together, making a covering over the pit. They
then cover the whole building with earth to the thickness of several
inches, or even a foot, leaving a small hole at the top to serve as a
chimney. Another hole is made at the side, large enough to admit the
body. When they wish to sleep they build a fire in the center of the
lodge, then creep in feet foremost and lie in that position to the
fire.

The Diggers have a curious way of marrying. When a man takes a fancy
to a girl and wants her as his squaw, he speaks to her parents and
talks to her a little. Then he lies down with her, and if she lies
still they are considered man and wife; but if she gets up and runs
away, the courtship is at an end, and the man never tries to get her
again. A Digger man can have as many wives as he chooses, but the
woman can only have one husband.

When a Digger dies they burn him, with all his implements, and have a
great mourning during the ceremony. They believe that when a man dies
his spirit goes to the East, and keeps going until it comes to a great
water. A large boat is there to take him over. All the good get safely
across and go to a very large house where they eat, drink, and gamble,
until they are tired, when they go off among the trees. The bad people
who go in the boat reach the middle of the water, when the bottom
falls out, and they are lost forever.

Whilst in California we frequently visited what is now San Francisco,
but which was then a small village of a dozen houses, known by the
Spaniards as "Yerba Buena." A few French and Spanish traders were the
only white residents, and to those we carried down bear meat, buffalo
robes, and furs of various kinds, together with small bits of gold
found in the mountains, receiving in exchange blankets and "snakyeye,"
or whiskey. These trips were made several times during the year, but
were finally terminated by the occurrence that resulted in our leaving
that part of the country. A large party of Diggers surprised a small
hunting party of Snakes and took from them their ponies. A number of
warriors were sent out from our tribe to demand them back, but the
Diggers had surrendered the ponies to the Spaniards, and now asked
their protection from the vengeance of the Snakes. The Spaniards
granted their request, and warned our party off. As soon as the news
arrived at the Snake village, there was a general excitement, and all
who were able to bear arms at once took the war path. The Diggers
fled, but were tracked to the coast, where they were supported by
several Spaniards. We attacked their camp at daybreak, and a desperate
fight ensued. The Diggers are generally lazy and cowardly, but their
numbers far exceeded ours, and they were assisted by white men. In the
end we were victors, and our party mercilessly tomahawked and scalped
all within their reach. Nearly a hundred and fifty scalps were borne
off in triumph by the Snakes, and among the trophies were the scalps
of some white men.

The result of this fight was a general movement of the whites on the
one hand and the California tribes on the other, to drive us out of
the country. For a time our tribe stood its ground, but at length it
became evident that we could not remain peaceably in that region, so
we once more turned our faces eastward and re-crossed the mountains to
Utah.

During our stay in this Territory, which did not exceed six or seven
moons, our principal encampment was on the banks of the Great Salt
Lake, near the present site of Salt Lake City. At that time not a
white man lived in that vast wilderness, though not many years
afterwards a large city sprang up where our wigwams had formerly
stood.

Once more our tribe became restless and dissatisfied with their
location, and we changed our hunting ground to Oregon, remaining there
about two years. Here we came into collision with the Blackfeet
Indians, one of the most ferocious and cruel tribes in existence. They
are always at war with the tribes around them and make long journeys
for the purpose of attacking some other nation. Several skirmishes
took place between our bands and those of the Blackfeet, in which
sometimes one and sometimes the other would be successful. In order to
defend ourselves from the attacks of the Blackfeet, our tribe made an
alliance with the Flat Heads. These are a very singular race who strap
boards on the heads of their children so as to change their shape.
There are two kinds of Flat Heads, those who have the head flattened
from the forehead back, making the head look like a wedge with the
sharp edge in front, whilst the others have the sides flattened so as
to have the point of the wedge upwards. The party allied with us were
of the former kind. A part of the Utahs also joined us about this
time, as did the Crees.

Our associated tribes kept going farther north, not finding any place
to settle owing to the constant attacks of the Indians through whose
territories we passed. With the Bloods and the Blackfeet we had
repeated fights until we got above their country, beyond the territory
of the United States and into the country of the Copper Head Indians,
who roamed over a vast extent of territory extending to the Esquimaux
on the North.

Our associated tribes united in the North with the Copper Heads, and
here the whole lived in undisputed possession from that time to the
present.




CHAPTER III.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE CONTINUED.

    Government of Snake and Copper Head Tribes -- Women worked
    hard -- Marriage Laws -- Children taught the use of weapons
    early -- Funeral ceremonies of the Copper Heads -- Their
    Religion.


The Snakes and Copper Heads are ruled over by one General Chief,
or _Inkupudia_, who remains in power for life unless deposed by the
vote of all the tribes. Since the union of the tribes there has been
but one General Chief, now (in 1860) eighty years of age, named
_O-wash-kah-ke-naw_. He reigns supreme to a certain extent and
appoints sub-chiefs to govern the different tribes. These sub-chiefs
are appointed for a period of time and not for life. The General Chief
makes known his laws or decrees for the government of the tribes in
various matters, and it is the duty of the sub-chiefs to communicate
these decrees to the tribes under their charge. The laws in relation
to stealing are very strict. Any one proved to have stolen from a
person belonging to the associated tribes is condemned to death, and
is generally burned at the stake. It is looked upon as very
disgraceful for an Indian to tell a lie to his fellows.

The men dress with leggins fastened to their moccasins. The leggins
extend up to the knees. A tunic of furs is worn about the waist, and
the bare place between the tunic and the leggins is daubed with oil
and paint. From the waist upwards the body is daubed with oil and
paint, and the hair is worn long, extending down over the breast and
back. The women are dressed in a somewhat similar manner.

The men do nothing but hunt and fight, leaving the women and captives
to do the drudgery. The women are very hard worked, having to collect
wood for fires, cut up the game, carry the heavy burdens and do the
other work which the warrior considers beneath his dignity to perform.
They are very hardy and can perform with ease labors which many white
men would shrink from.

The marriage laws vary among different tribes. Among the Copper Heads
the marriage is for life. The Utahs marry for twelve moons, and if at
the end of that time they separate they cannot re-marry at any
subsequent time. If there is a boy born of the marriage, it goes with
the father, and if a girl the mother takes it. The Snakes marry for
three years, and if after that time they choose to live together they
are married for life.

The birth of a child is accomplished without any trouble or assistance
from either doctor, midwife or nurse. The mother retires to her lodge,
or if on the march, steps aside and spreads her blanket, and in the
course of two or three hours she is up and about her accustomed work,
or on the march, as if nothing had happened.

The child, when young, is wrapped around with bandages, strapped to a
board and carried on the mother's back. When in the lodge, or at any
other time that she wishes to take the child down, the board with the
infant on it is set to lean against the wall or is hung to a peg.

As soon as a boy is able to run about his education for the chase and
the war path is commenced. A bow three and a half feet long, strung
with the sinews of the deer or elk, is placed in his hand, and a
bundle of two feet arrows, with flint heads and feathered shafts, is
given him. With these he practices at a mark until he is proficient. A
board is then set up and a circle about six inches in diameter is
described on it. The young Indian takes his position at a short
distance from the board and commences throwing his knife at it with
the endeavor to strike the center of the circle. When he succeeds in
doing this frequently, he increases his distance from the board, and
keeps on retreating until he can strike the circle with unerring aim
from as great a distance as his strength will permit.

The tomahawk practice comes next. A mark is described on the bark of a
tree, and the young Indian throws his tomahawk at it with great force,
endeavoring to make it whirl three times in the air, and then to
strike with the sharp pick at the back of the axe head so that it
shall remain sticking in the mark. As in the knife practice, success
at one distance is immediately followed by a retreat of a few paces
until the feat can be accomplished at a considerable distance. The
same routine is gone through with the axe part so that it shall cleave
the bark in the very center of the mark. At about ten years of age, a
long bow with arrows of proportionate length, is put into the hands of
the boy, and when he becomes of sufficient age to manage it properly
he is instructed in the use of the rifle.

The boys are incited to begin hunting and trapping early, and their
first success in trapping a beaver, shooting a martin or spearing a
muskrat is celebrated with as much triumph as is the first scalp taken
in battle by a young warrior. When about twelve years old the boys
join the hunting parties, and are very expert in the use of the bow.
Many widows are supported entirely by their sons who have just passed
their twelfth year.

The small children and the very old people are allowed the use of
cooked meat, but all others eat their food raw. No salt is used but
pepper is frequently obtained from the Russian and Hudson Bay trading
posts, and is eaten with the food as a great addition. Besides the
privilege of eating cooked meat the very old people are well cared for
by the tribe, and are allowed to remain in their lodges without being
called out to hunt or work. Everything is done for them and they enjoy
perfect rest until their death.

The Copper Heads do not, in general, bury their dead in the same
manner with many of the tribes in the United States territory. In some
cases, when a warrior dies, the dead body is placed in a birch bark
canoe in which are also laid the dead warrior's rifle, tomahawk, pipe,
knife and all the other articles belonging to him when alive. Two
blankets and provisions to last six months are also placed in the
canoe. A poor miserable dog is next procured and hung up by the hind
legs to a tree or pole stuck in the ground. The throat of the dog is
cut and the animal suffered to bleed to death. The object of this
ceremony is to provide a dog to hunt with in the spirit land and the
bad blood is let out so as to fit the animal for its new sphere of
existence. A poor dog is as serviceable as a good one for the happy
hunting grounds if the bad blood is taken out. Some powdered roots are
then sprinkled over the body, and the canoe with its contents is
launched on the river, if there is one in the neighborhood, and the
deceased warrior goes on his way to the happy hunting grounds. If
there is no river near, the canoe with its contents is placed on the
branches of a tree, or on a temporary scaffold, and left there.
Sometimes in conformity with the wishes of the deceased the body is
buried under the roots of a tree or placed in a hollow log to wait
until there is some good company to join in the journey to the happy
hunting grounds.

The religion of these tribes is very simple. They worship the Great
Spirit by standing and praying with arms uplifted to the sky. At times
when they see a dark storm-cloud rising up the sky they address it,
believing the Great Spirit to be hid within it. After a prayer, on
some particular occasions, they drink "snakyeye" or whiskey, and dance
with whooping and yelling. They do not believe in a place of
punishment hereafter. Those who have committed crimes in this world
will be punished here by their tribe, or else the Great Spirit will
visit them with sickness or trouble. After this life is over, the
spirits all go to the happy hunting grounds, where there is plenty of
game and where no enemies will come to disturb them.




CHAPTER IV.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE CONTINUED.

    Climate -- Esquimaux -- Trading -- Mode of Sleeping -- Method
    of Taming Ponies and Elks -- Weapons -- Making Pipes.


The territory occupied by the Copper Heads and the associated tribes
lies west of the Rocky Mountains in the high latitudes, extending so
far north as the Russian possessions. Their hunting grounds cover a
space of several hundred miles, and the natural characteristics of the
country are much diversified. Baren mountain ranges alternate with
wide plains, fruitful valleys and dense forests. We met with but few
rivers in our hunt, but from the Esquimaux and a few stragglers
belonging to tribes on the east side of the mountains we had reports
of many rivers and big waters on the other side. Our northern
head-quarters was about three weeks' journey from the Artic ocean.
To the northeast of us, about two weeks' journey, was Big Esquimaux
village.

The climate in the northern part of our hunting grounds is cold
through the greater part of the year and the ground mostly covered
with snow. The trees in this region are of pine, cedar, white hemlock
and some other kinds. During the greater part of the year they remain
bare, but as soon as the temperature begins to moderate a little the
leaves come out about the size of a squirrel's ear. They continue out
but for a short time, when they drop off, and the tree is once more
bare. The elk, reindeer and the ponies of the Indians all feed on the
bark of the trees and the moss.

Snow falls repeatedly during the year, but no rain. There are numerous
storms.

With the Esquimaux, who live on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, our
tribes often had skirmishes. The Esquimaux are a dirty people,
generally short, thick set, with matted hair, and afflicted with the
scurvy. They wrap themselves up in furs and live on any kind of
carion. They will eat worms, bugs or snakes when they cannot get game;
but their principal luxury is oil. They make oil from the carcasses of
the animals they obtain and enjoy it as a great luxury. They live in
huts made of snow and ice, and when moving from place to place they
have tents made of furs and skins. In traveling, they use sleds drawn
by reindeer and dogs. The Copper Heads never have sleds, but use
ponies and elk, both for riding and packing game and other burdens.

The Copper Heads principally traded with the Russian posts, and made
trips to them several times a year. They also sent an expedition twice
a year to the Red River settlement, and from there to St. Paul. All
the dried meats, furs and other articles are packed on the backs of
ponies and elks or carried by women and such captives as are in the
keeping of the tribe. The mode of packing on the backs of women is for
a belt, three fingers wide, to be passed across the forehead and lie
down the back. The pack is placed so as to rest on the bottom of the
belt and lie on the shoulders and neck. The bearer is obliged to stoop
forward in walking, and the back is frequently bent from this cause.
Being a captive, I was sometimes compelled to carry a load but about
fifteen pounds less than my own weight, and the squaws have to carry
within about twenty pounds of their own weight.

From the Russians we obtained blankets, powder, rifles and other
necessary articles in exchange for furs and dried meats. Among other
things purchased of the Russians the tribe possessed a compass and a
watch, enclosed in a copper case. They learned the use of the compass
sufficiently to enable them to travel by its aid.

The lodges are made of poles stuck in the ground and tied together at
the top so as to leave a hole in the center. Furs and skins are then
fastened around and made tight, except at the entrance. A fire is
built in the center of the lodge and the members of the lodge creep in
and sleep with their feet to the fire and their heads to the side of
the lodge.

In traveling, when the snow is on the ground and the party do not take
the lodge fixtures along, the snow is stamped down and blanket spread
on the hardened snow. On this the Indian lies down and rolls himself
up in the blanket. With this mode of sleeping there is no danger of
taking cold.

When the snow is very deep and light the hunters wear wide snow shoes
to prevent their sinking at every step. The ponies are also shod with
wide moccasins stuffed with hair when the snow is so deep that they
cannot travel with ease.

The beasts of burden used by the Indians are ponies, elks and dogs.
Both elks and ponies have to be broken into submission to man before
they can be used. When the Indians want to break in a pony for riding,
one of them mounts a well broke pony, and, after riding around for a
little while, suddenly dashes up to the untamed pony, and seizing it
by the mane, leaps on its back. The first effort of the surprised
animal is to throw the unexpected burden over its head, or failing in
this to rise on its hind legs and throw its rider backwards. To
prevent either of these purposes being accomplished the rider clasps
his arms around the neck of the pony and crosses his legs under its
belly so that the toes are inserted between the forelegs of the
animal. By these means the pony is rendered unable to jerk the rider
off in any direction. Foiled in its efforts to dislodge the unusual
encumbrance on its back the pony generally sets off in a wild gallop,
in which it is indulged by the rider, and an unexpected difficulty of
breathing soon brings the unruly beast to terms. As soon as it gets
somewhat tired of its useless excitements, the rider steals his hand
down to its nose and there holds some sugar and salt. If the animal
prove insensible to the temptation thus held out, the rider gradually
works his hand up until he gets some of the mixture into its mouth.
The taste of these articles is generally sufficient to subdue the
strong will of the pony, and to complete the work the rider puffs
tobacco smoke up its nostrils. It is now thoroughly broken in, and
will sit easily under a rider or follow its owner like a dog. The
Indian never abuses his horse, but always treats it as a friend.

The elk is of great service to the Indians in high latitudes, and
shares with the pony the attentions of its owner. The method of
catching and taming elk is for one hunter to throw a lasso, or running
noose at the end of a long line, on one horn, whilst another hunter
does the same to the other horn. The lines are then quickly made fast
to two trees, and the hind legs tied to two other trees in a similar
manner. Whilst thus fastened in a nearly immovable position the man
who is to break in the animal comes up and leaps on his back. The
ropes are simultaneously cut by the other Indians, and the elk dashes
off with its burden. The rider embraces the horns with his arms and
crosses his feet below the belly of the animal, as in breaking ponies.
The elk pursues his headlong career for miles, the branching horns
preventing his dashing among the trees in such a manner as to hurt the
rider. After the elk is thoroughly spent by his long scamper, it is
treated in the same manner as in the case of ponies.

The weapons of the Snakes and Copper-Heads consist of rifles, bows and
arrows, spears, tomahawks, hunting knives, scalping knives, and war
clubs. The arrow heads are made of flint, and much care is used in
digging up, selecting and splitting the proper kind of flint. The
pipes are also made of flint, and take a large amount of patience and
labor in their manufacture. The pipe I made for my self was first
squared out from a flint and then drilled with a steel implement,
worked by hand. I worked thirty days to complete the boring process,
using bear's oil and water to moisten the stone. After the hole was
bored, another steel chisel was taken, and the pipe chipped into
proper shape. In doing the chiseling, the pipe was placed between two
other stones to act as a vice, and the whole pressed between my knees.
Then I chipped away, using my clenched hand as a mallet. After the
pipe had been chipped into shape and then ornamented with cut designs,
it was first oiled and then dyed a pale red with a pigment extracted
from a root. A stem of cherry or other wood inserted in this pipe
completes it.




CHAPTER V.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE CONTINUED.

    Hunting Buffalo -- The attack -- Cutting up the carcass --
    Packing to the camp -- Drying the meat -- Buffalo hunting in
    winter -- Trapping bears and wolves -- Spearing muskrats --
    Dressing skins -- Different modes of fishing.


Hunting is the principal occupation of the Indians, and their only
means of subsistence. The climate does not admit the raising of crops,
even if the Indians were disposed to till the ground, which they are
not. During the fall the camps are removed to the lower part of the
British territory in order to hunt the buffalo.

To show how the buffalo are killed, I will relate my experience on one
of the hunts in which I was engaged.

Our hunting party, with the families of the hunters, traveled for
seven days before reaching the traces of any herds. A few stray bulls
were killed, and some of their flesh eaten, but it was too hard and
tough for good eating. At length we arrived at the place where there
were strong hopes of finding buffalo, and our camp was fixed. Early
next morning the hunting party rode off, leaving the squaws and
children to make arrangements for preparing the meat when it should be
brought to the camp.

After riding a short distance, we came on traces of a large herd, and
then rode forward in high spirits. We soon came in sight of some bulls
feeding quietly, and beyond them could discover a large herd of cows.
The difference between the sexes can be seen at a long distance by
their mode of herding. The bulls feed singly, and are scattered over
the prairies, whilst the cows huddle together as if for protection.
The bulls are the most savage, but the cows are the fleetest of foot,
and are very difficult to approach. Their flesh is, however, more
highly esteemed than that of the bulls, it being more tender and
juicy.

On reconnoitering the respective groups it became evident that we
could not reach the cows without first breaking through the herd of
bulls, and this we prepared to do at once. Riding slowly up so as not
to alarm them, we approached within a few hundred yards of them before
they took much notice of us. Then they ceased feeding and commenced
bellowing furiously.

At this the signal was given, and our fleet ponies were spurred
rapidly towards the herd. When close to them, each hunter singled out
a buffalo, and dashing impetuously past the animal, discharged an
arrow into its neck. Those whose arrows did not fatally wound the
beasts were at once exposed to imminent danger, as nothing exceeds a
wounded buffalo in ferocity and strength. Rising for a moment on their
hind feet, they dash furiously at the hunters, butting at them, and
attempting to upset horse and man. Sometimes they succeed, and then
the hunter suffers terrible wounds, if not death, from the horns of
the enraged animal.

Five or six bulls were killed in the attack, and the rest scattered
widely over the prairie. The sight of the immense herd of cows in the
distance excited the hunters, and prevented them from stopping to make
any use of the bulls we had killed. We rode forward at a moderate
speed for some distance, reserving the strength of our horses until we
should be compelled to use their speed. At length the scouts of the
herd saw us advancing, and in two or three seconds the whole herd was
in motion. The first movements of the buffalo are slow, increasing in
speed as they go. At the first symptoms of alarm our party raised a
shout to encourage the horses, and we were suddenly flying along at
full speed, the horses as much excited as their riders. The excitement
was intense. At last we were close to them, and the arrows flew thick
and fast into the herd. In a few moments we were in the midst of the
press, firing arrows and using spears among the animals right and
left.

The scene was full of wild excitement and not without danger. Some of
our party were thrown from their horses and suffered severe bruises
and wounds from the feet and horns of the enraged buffaloes. At last
the signal of recall was given, and our party reined up to rest from
the chase and dispose of the spoils.

After dismounting and hobbling the ponies, the hunters rested awhile
before proceeding to the work of cutting up the buffaloes in order to
take them home. When rested, the hunters began the labor of skinning
and cutting up the carcasses. The animal was first placed on its
knees, and its hind legs stretched out to their full length, so that
the principal weight lay on the belly of the beast. The small hump of
flesh about the neck was first cut out and carefully placed on one
side. The skin was next divided along the back bone, and stripped down
on either side. After this the animal was cut up in various pieces,
all the best parts being taken and the offal left for the wolves. The
fat and tallow were put in the hide, which was then slung around the
necks of the packing ponies. Along each side of the pony's back was
placed a pole, fastened to the animal's neck. The foot of the
buffalo's hind quarter was thrust through the gambril of the
forequarter, and the quarters then slung across the back of the pony
and hanging down on each side. The poles keep the burden off from the
sides of the pony, and prevent its back being broken. The other
portions of the game were carried in a similar manner.

When the meat was brought to the camp, the women cut it into long
strips, about a quarter of an inch thick. These strips were hung on
sticks to dry, which operation takes several days. When thoroughly
dried, the women bend it up and tie it into bundles, in which shape it
is preserved for home consumption or taken to the trading posts, to be
bartered for ammunition or other articles wanted by the Indians. Some
parts of the buffalo, not fitted for making the dried meat, were dried
by a very fierce fire until it became brittle. A buffalo hide was then
spread out, with the skin uppermost, and the dried pieces of meat
spread on it, and thrashed into small bits by sticks. The tallow of
the buffalo was cut up, melted and poured on the powdered meat, which
was then worked up until it became well mixed. Whilst still warm, it
was pressed into bags made of buffalo skin, which were then sown up.
When cold the mixture, known to the whites as _pemican_, becomes as
hard as a rock, and makes good eating. The marrow bones were boiled in
water for their oil, which, when extracted, was poured into the
bladder of the animal. One bladder will hold eleven or twelve pounds
of oil.

Buffalo are frequently killed in winter without any of the dangers
experienced in the fall hunt. The alternate thawing and freezing forms
a thick crust on the surface of the soft snow. The heavy animals break
through this thin crust, and plunge cumbrously into the deep snow,
whilst the Indian hunter glides easily on his snow shoes close to the
side of the unwieldly monster, and dispatches it at his ease.

Elk, reindeer, grizzly bears, wolves, with some other animals, are
killed with rifles, or arrows, frequently with the aid of dogs. The
dogs are of a strong, powerful breed and are trained to catch by the
ears or jaw, so that the fur is not injured. The elk and reindeer are
very difficult to approach, having a keen scent, and show fight if
close pressed. The attack on a grizzly bear is also dangerous, and the
hunter frequently has to fight desperately for his life.

Black bears and wolves are frequently caught by a peculiar trap. A
young sapling tree is bent down so that its top is but a few feet from
the earth. A rope, formed of pieces of raw hide firmly twisted
together, is fastened to the top of the tree and a strong double hook
of iron or steel is attached to the other end of the rope. One arm of
the hook is lightly caught in a log or a stake driven in the ground,
and on the other arm a piece of meat is firmly attached. The bear or
wolf seizes the meat, and in its endeavors to carry it off or tear it
to pieces, releases the hook from the log. The tree top suddenly flies
up, the hook catching the animal in the mouth or lip, and lifting it
partially or completely from the ground. In this position it is found
and dispatched by the hunter, when he comes to examine his traps.

Beavers are trapped in great numbers, as are martins and other
fur-bearing animals. In the depth of winter the muskrat houses are
sought out and pierced with strong and sharp spears which transfix the
muskrats and bring them out on the points.

The skins of the animals killed are dried and cured by the women. When
the hide is taken off and brought home, the women scrape off the flesh
with a bone, sharpened at one end. When the skin is thoroughly
scraped, small holes are cut all around it, and strings run through
it, which are then lashed to the poles of the lodge inside. The fire
burning in the lodge dries the skin in one night, and in the morning
it is taken down and folded so as to be packed. In dressing the skins,
the grease is taken off and the skins dipped in water containing the
brains of a deer, after which they are boiled and stretched on four
square poles tied and pushed into the ground. The skin is then scraped
with a bone and kept before a slow fire until perfectly dry. It is
then dipped in the brain water and scraped dry again, after which it
is dipped in the water a third time, and every time the water wrung
out before the skin is stretched. If it remains hairy or stiff after
all this working, it is drawn over a cord as thick as a man's finger,
as hard as the women can pull, and this softens it greatly. The skin
is next smoked. A hole is dug in the ground, about a foot deep, in
which is put a little water and some rotten wood. The skin is then
sewed in a bag and hung over the smoke for about ten minutes, when it
is ready for use.

The streams are well stocked with fish and these are caught in various
ways. Sometimes they are speared, and some are shot with arrows and
some caught by stakes arranged across the bed of the stream. When the
rivers and small lakes are frozen over in winter a hole is cut in the
ice and over it a little tent is made with three sticks and a blanket,
so as to close out the light. The Indian lies with his face over the
hole. He can then see to some depth and when a fish passes it is
pierced with a short spear and brought to the surface.

There are various other ways of hunting, trapping and fishing but
these will serve as specimens.




CHAPTER VI.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE CONTINUED.

    Is recognized as a white man -- War dance -- Fight with
    Blackfeet Indians -- Tomahawking and burning captives.


In 1861 the winter in the north was exceedingly severe and the game
was compelled to seek a more southern latitude to get something to
eat. We followed them down but were in great danger of perishing of
famine. In this strait our only hope was in obtaining some additional
supplies from the trading posts. A large detachment was therefore sent
off to the post of the Hudson Bay Company for the purpose of obtaining
supplies. With this band I traveled.

We arrived at the post after a long journey and were received with
kindness. The few furs and skins we were able to gather up we traded
for provisions but we were still in great want. That night we camped
near the trading post and waited to plead our cause with the agent
next day.

In the morning whilst the chief of our party and some of the leading
warriors were talking to the agent and explaining to him the
deplorable condition of the tribe one of the traders came into our
camp. Whilst looking around and talking he came close to me and
something seemed to attract his attention. Looking me in the eyes he
suddenly spoke in French. I did not understand him but he immediately
addressed me in Indian language, saying: "You are no Indian." I
replied that I was for I never remembered anything of a life different
from the one I was leading. He insisted that I was no Indian but a
pale face and demanded that I should come before the agent. I was
about to do so, when some of the tribe interfered to prevent me. An
angry discussion now took place between the trader and the Indians,
ending in my being taken before the agent himself.

On my entering the circle where the chiefs and principal warriors were
conferring with the agent I was brought before the latter by the
trader, and my white birth stated by him. The agent examined my
features closely and endeavored to get from me by conversation whether
I was a white or not. I was surprised by these statements but replied
that I always considered myself an Indian. The members of the tribe
present in the council were greatly disturbed when I was brought
before the agent and on being appealed to strongly asserted my Indian
parentage. I could not fail to remark their alarm lest I should be
claimed as a white, and pondered over it for some time.

The agent was quieted for a time but was not satisfied and all the
post continued to watch our movements narrowly. Next day whilst
getting some provisions from the post, our chief was again asked about
me and was told that no more provisions would be given the party
unless I was surrendered to the whites. At this the chief returned to
the camp in dismay and a brief council was held from which I was
excluded. The result was that our camp was suddenly broken up and the
trail immediately struck for the main body of the tribe leaving the
rest of the needed supplies behind us.

On our homeward march we fell in with a party of Blackfeet who wished
to rob us of our ponies and provisions. After a short skirmish the
enemy was driven back, but continued to hover on our trail in order to
find out our destination.

A busy scene presented itself at the camp on our arrival. Our hunters
in their excursions in pursuit of game had come on traces of the
Blackfeet Indians, and had followed the trail until they discovered
the camp of a large war party which had evidently come out with the
intention of meeting and driving us back to the north again. A grand
council of the tribe was gathered and the warriors were giving their
opinions as to the proper course to be pursued. Two alternatives
presented themselves. One was to go back to the snows and starvation
of the northern winter, and the other to meet the opposing Blackfeet
and endeavor to force our way through them to the hunting grounds
farther south. There was a general disposition to take the latter
course, and several chiefs made stirring appeals to the pride and
vengeance of the warriors. The numerous battles with the Blackfeet in
former years were referred to, and the blood of the slain invoked to
stir up the hearts of the warriors to revenge. Finally one of the
chiefs sprang to his feet and commenced chanting an account of his
warlike deeds, and boasted of what he would do in the approaching
fight. Whilst he sang he danced around in a circle, stamping fiercely
on the ground at every step. Every now and then he stopped to raise
his war-cry.

In a few minutes another warrior sprang up and joined the dance and
song, to the music of a small drum and rattle. Then another and
another leaped up, until all the fighting men of the tribe signified
their intention of attacking the enemy. During the dance the utmost
excitement existed, and the piercing yells worked the warriors up to
mad frenzy. Knives and tomahawks were waved in the air, and all the
movements of fighting and scalping an enemy gone through with.

Next day a large war party set out in the direction of the Blackfeet
camp. I accompanied the party. In a short time we struck the trail of
one of their bands, and followed it up till evening, when we
discovered ourselves in the vicinity of the enemy's camp. A hurried
council was held, and it was decided to conceal ourselves in the woods
until morning, and make the attack at sunrise. After placing sentinels
to keep watch of the camp, our party lay down among the brush and
waited for day.

At the first dawn of day we were all awake and creeping stealthily
towards the edge of the wood, beyond which the camp was pitched. As we
neared the opening the Blackfeet discovered our approach and raised an
alarm. In an instant there was great confusion in the camp, and their
warriors were rushing backwards and forwards, snatching up their
weapons and attempting to seek a place of shelter from the coming
attack.

At this moment our war chief blew a blast on a horn carried by him,
and at the signal a volley of shot and arrows was fired into the camp.
Several of the Blackfeet were killed and wounded, and the others ran
to the woods for protection. Some of our warriors dashed into the
opening, cut down the wounded and rapidly scalped them, raising a
terrible war whoop as each bloody scalp was snatched from the head of
the prostrate foe. As soon as the work was done they again sought the
protection of the trees.

The fight was now conducted from behind the trees and every one fought
after his own fashion. Sometimes one side appeared to gain the
advantage, and then the fortune would change. Hours passed away, and
both parties were very much scattered, but the Blackfeet were
generally in retreat. At last they broke up and fled, when our
warriors returned, plundered the camp of what little was left in it,
and took the trail homewards. A number of scalps were borne home in
triumph.

Three captives were taken and their arms tied firmly to their sides,
after which they were driven before us to the camp. On arriving there
the party was received with shouts of triumph, and the women and
children made a tremendous noise. Some of the squaws who had lost
husbands in battle came up to the captives and loaded them with
insults and abuse, shaking their fists in the faces of the victims and
acting like mad women. The captives remained perfectly indifferent to
these insults, and made no sign of being aware that the women were in
existence.

When the party entered the camp, the prisoners were tied to different
posts. The warriors then indulged in a great rejoicing. "Snakyeye" or
whisky was brought out and drank. The warriors boasted of their deeds
in battle and divided the captives. Then they sprang up in a wild
dance, and menaced the captives with their knives and tomahawks. One
of the Blackfeet replied in contemptuous words to the taunts of the
Copper-Heads, which so exasperated them that several of the latter at
once rushed to the posts and tomahawked two of the captives. The third
was saved by a chief of our tribe, who proposed that he should be
burned instead of tomahawked.

This proposal met with favor, and preparations were at once made for
carrying it into execution. Wood was brought and piled up around the
victim until it ascended above his knees. He was then tormented by
descriptions of the horrible sufferings that he was to endure, but the
threats failed to shake his constancy in the least.

As soon as all the preparations were complete, a large number of
warriors and squaws encircled the victim and commenced a wild dance.
Fire was applied to the pile, and in a few moments the flames ascended
around the body of the captive Blackfoot. He commenced chanting a
deathsong, and did not stop till life was extinct. The dance was kept
up around the stake until the body was consumed, when a yell was given
and the assemblage dispersed to their lodges.

Next day another council was held, and it was decided not to go any
farther to the south, but to return and get through the winter as well
as possible in a territory where we should be out of the Blackfeet
range. Accordingly our tents were struck and packed, the ponies
loaded, and we once more took the northward trail.




CHAPTER VII.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE.

    Marries the Chiefs Daughter -- Tattooing -- Packing for the
    south -- Camping out -- Crossing the Mountains -- Skirmish
    with Blackfeet -- Wounded -- The Red River Settlements.


The fact that the traders at the Hudson Bay Company's post had claimed
me to be of white birth was communicated to the principal chief after
the war excitement of the latter was over, and caused considerable
anxiety on his part. Nothing was said to me about it but I could see
that the old chief feared my escape and that the tribe would be made
to suffer some punishment at the hands of the whites for my captivity.
I had always considered myself as an Indian captured from some other
tribe and could not yet think it possible that I was one of the pale
faces.

With the return of Summer the tribe again sought the Northern regions
and I had almost forgotten the affair at the trading post. The old
chief, Owash-kah-ke-naw, appeared to have taken a great liking to me
and in September of that year (1851) he gave me his youngest daughter,
Tefronia (Tame Deer) to be my squaw. She was then nineteen and a
handsome Indian woman. My own name in Copper-Head language is
Owah-owah-kish-me-wah. By this squaw I have two children, Tefronia, a
girl now over five years of age, and Tululee, a boy over two years
old.

After marrying his daughter I was kept by the old chief around the
village and was not allowed to join any expeditions in the lower
country. Three years passed in this manner and my girl was born. The
tribe once more moved farther south and the old chief become anxious
about my being claimed by the whites. One day he told me that if I
went south with the tribe I must be tattooed, so that I could be
identified by them in case I should be carried off by the traders
under pretence that I was of white parentage. I did not consent to
this but was then told that there was no choice left me as it was the
will of the chief that it should be done.

Next day I was seized by two men of the tribe and made to lie on my
back along a log. I was next bound down so that I could neither move
my head, body, hands or feet. My breast was bared and one of the
Indians came forward to do the work of tattooing.

First he took a sharp knife and made some light incisions down my
breast so that small strips of skin were cut. These he peeled off and
threw on one side. My agony was intense but I did not wish to be
considered a coward so I held my tongue, though the pain made me bite
my lips till the blood came; other similar strips were next taken off
at the distance of about an inch, but parallel with the first marks. I
now suffered tortures and was racked with an intense thirst. The
attendant Indians brought me water and poured it into my mouth and
over my head to keep me from fainting.

Parallel strips were now cut at right angles to the first incisions
and then other strips at right angles to the second series of cuts.
Some other incisions were also made but by this time I was almost
insensible to pain. During these operations a smooth stone had been
remaining in a strong fire and as the marks were all cut the stone was
taken up and applied to my lacerated breast. The pain for the moment
was maddening but the effect was to sear the wounds and stop the
bleeding. I was now released from my fastenings and sought my lodge,
with marks on breast that I still carry and shall to my dying day.

After this time I was allowed to go with the rest of the tribe in the
excursions to the southern part of the territory over which we ranged.
About two years since I joined the half yearly train that left for the
Selkirk settlement on the Red River and for St. Paul's.

As I stated before, the train starts twice a year--in the Spring and
Fall, laden with furs and brings back supplies of various kinds. The
journey occupies about six "moons" each way and one "moon" is allowed
for stoppage at St. Paul's, so that the trains meet about half way on
the journey. A large number of Indians travel in these trains so as to
fight their way down in case of resistance by hostile Indians.

Previous to starting on the journey all the furs, skins and other
articles intended to be taken down together with dried meats for the
journey, were packed in readiness to be carried by ponies and elks, or
by the squaws in the manner already described. When everything was
ready a grand Council was held, at which the old men of the tribe sat
around the council fire, smoking their pipes in silence. Then the
principal chief arose and appointed one of the subordinate chiefs to
the command of the party, giving him in a few words some general
instructions relative to the policy to be adopted in dealing with the
whites and exhorting the warriors attached to the party to drive from
the face of the earth all who should oppose their progress. Particular
charge was given that I should be kept away from the whites as much as
possible, and watch kept that I might not be stolen from them by the
pale faces.

The old chief sat down, and the newly appointed chief of the
expedition rose and made a speech, as did some others of the tribe.
Then there were some dances, after which the Council broke up and all
retired to their lodges.

Early next morning the party set out on their journey. The ponies and
elks were loaded with packs, the squaws carried some articles attached
to the straps passed across their forehead, and the men rode or walked
in single file. The journey was long and tedious, day after day
passing with but few incidents to change the monotony of our progress.
Hunting parties started off occasionally in pursuit of game for the
support of the band, and met at appointed places, but the main body
kept advancing steadily in the one direction.

Only four hours was allowed for sleep, when fires were lit and we all
lay around in our blankets, with our feet to the fire, and heads
outward. There are two reasons for adopting this mode of sleeping: it
keeps the feet warm, which is very important, and it allows more
people to sleep around one fire than would be possible in any other
position. On stopping for sleep the ponies were hobbled in such a
manner that they could feed or sleep, but could not run away.
Sentinels were posted to prevent the camp being surprised either by
wild animals or by hostile Indians.

As soon as the time was up the signal was given and the whole camp was
speedily awake and ready for resuming the journey. A hasty meal was
despatched, and then, after determining the course to be taken, the
band set forward. There were no fixed hours for meals, and no stoppage
for that purpose, but each person took a piece of dried meat whenever
he became hungry, and gnawed away as he felt disposed.

The country through which we passed changed from dense forests to
barren plains, and then again to rolling prairies, high hills, and
grassy valleys. When large streams opposed our progress there was a
halt on the banks, and preparations were made for swimming across. The
packs were disposed of so as not to be wetted and then each animal,
led by an Indian, was brought to the stream and swam across to the
other side. When the animals and their burdens had all safely been got
over, the remaining men and squaws plunged in and swam over. The very
young children were carried on the backs of the swimmers or floated
across on boards, which the mothers pushed before them.

At the North Pass of the Rocky Mountains the band crossed from the
west to the east side. The crossing was the work of time and
difficulty, both animals and Indians having to creep slowly up the
rugged heights of the Pass. Sometimes we were many hours making half a
mile progress, and great caution was requisite to prevent serious
accidents among the precipices around which we crept. At times we
wound our way through a deep gorge, on either side of which the
enormous walls of rock towered far overhead. Then a toilsome ascent
brought us on an elevation from which we looked down on rugged peaks
and deep clefts below. At length the difficulties and dangers of the
pass were over, and we emerged on the rolling land to the east of the
mountains.

Up to this time we had met with no hostile Indians, or, at least, none
that attempted to molest us. We were now in the territory hunted by
the Bloods and Blackfeet, and were therefore not without fears of an
attack. On the second day after leaving the Pass I joined a hunting
party and set out in pursuit of buffalo. The party consisted of thirty
hunters, all well armed either for the chase or war. A herd of bulls
was discovered at a distance, and we rode quietly towards them.

As we rose on a ridge that commanded a wide view of the country, we
became aware of a party of mounted Indians at no great distance from
us, in pursuit of the same herd of buffalo. They appeared to have
discovered us at the same time, and both parties drew up to
reconnoitre. In numbers both were nearly equal, and there appeared to
be little doubt that the opposing band were some of our old enemies,
the Blackfeet. A short council was held without dismounting, and there
was a question as to the policy of fighting them on the spot, or of
falling back on the main body and keeping prepared for the larger band
of Blackfeet that probably lay in our course towards the Selkirk
settlement.

The question was settled, without farther discussion on our part, by
the appearance of the Blackfeet galloping towards us. Our party dashed
forward to meet them, and as the two bands neared each other, rapid
discharges of bullets and arrows were made by both sides. I received a
rifle ball in my instep, and was thrown from my pony by a Blackfoot
that dashed against me.

The fight was desperate, and several scalps were taken on both sides.
A Blackfoot warrior singled me out for combat, and for some time we
fought hand to hand. Severe blows were given on both sides, and I felt
faint from loss of blood, having received a frightful gash in the
thigh from a tomahawk, besides an ugly knife wound in one knee and in
the calf of one leg. In the end the hostile party was repulsed, though
with severe loss on our side, and we retreated to the main body of our
party.

Here my wounds were found to be of sufficient importance to require
some attention. I was lashed to a log in order to prevent my writhing
during the process of dressing the wounds. The gashes were then
cleaned out and washed with water. Some kinnikenick bark was chewed up
and a mixed with tobacco, which was then put into the wound to stop
the bleeding. The washing and dressing was repeated until the bleeding
had completely stopped. One of the men took a thin buckskin thong and
sewed up the wounds by piercing the skin and running the thong through
it. Only two stitches were made for each gash. The pain of this
operation was intense, and was more difficult to bear than the
original wounds. The marks of the stitches are still visible on my
person.

Whether the defeat of the smaller party of Blackfeet had discouraged
the larger band, or whether there was no large party in the
neighborhood at that time, I cannot tell, but it was certain that we
were not again troubled with them during our journey. Occasionally a
straggling hunter or two would be seen, but they always made off
before any of our warriors could reach them.

We had now reached the hunting grounds of the Selkirkers, or colonists
of English, Scotch, French and half-breeds, who lived on the territory
granted to Lord Selkirk for the purpose of establishing a colony
there. The land from the Rocky Mountains to the Red River is pleasant
to look at, and rich with game of all kinds. Buffalo, deer, and
smaller game, range in great numbers over the plains, and the hunters
and trappers of the Selkirk colony are scattered in the season, in all
directions over this splendid territory. Soon after getting into this
country we fell in with some trappers who were returning to the
settlements, and they traveled with our train as far as we went in
their direction.

In the course of our journey with them, they noticed my appearance and
spoke to me of my resemblance to whites, even though disguised with
paint as I was. They became interested in me and taught me several
words of English, which I learned very rapidly.

On reaching the Selkirk settlements we camped for a few days in order
to rest awhile before striking the Red River trail, and to do a little
trading with the settlers. Here the traders who had been teaching me
English told some of the other whites about me, and I was visited by
several Selkirkers. After conversing with me for some time they
summoned the chief, and charged the tribe with having stolen me when a
child from the whites. He denied it, but the Selkirkers became more
determined in their suspicions, and demanded that I should be given up
to them, threatening to take me by force if not surrendered peaceably.
I was appealed to as to what my wishes were on this subject. So much
had been told me by the traders about my having probably been stolen
from my white parents, that I had become anxious to know something
about the facts, and I frankly said so. On this the Selkirkers became
more eager to have me left with them, but our chief dissuaded me from
consenting, by representing that I had no clue to my parents, even if
it was true that I had been stolen from the whites, but that if I
returned to the tribe, I could undoubtedly get part of my history from
the old chief, who would also probably give me leave to go, in case I
chose to hunt up my family. With this I was content, and the
Selkirkers let me go after exacting a solemn promise from the chief
and principal warriors that I should be allowed to proceed in search
of my parents if I felt disposed to do so.




CHAPTER VIII.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE.

    Selkirk People -- Selkirk Trains -- Trading at St. Paul --
    Return to the North.


With the dawn of day we again set forward on our journey, taking the
Red River trail towards St. Paul. The trip between the Selkirk
settlements and St. Paul occupies from thirty to forty days, and
passes through the battle ground of the Siouxs and Chippewas. Several
times we came on small parties of the Siouxs, but had no more than
short skirmishes with them, our numbers being too formidable for them
to attack us. About two days journey from the Selkirk settlements we
came to the settlement of Oshawkapee, inhabited by French and half
breeds. From this point we passed over a magnificent rolling country
interspersed with occasional woods and watered by several streams.

Whilst crossing this country we met the Red River settlement train
returning from their trading journey to St. Paul. The train was
composed of four or five hundred ox carts in single file, with drivers
on foot, or riding on the wagons, hunters and guards mounted on
ponies, and women and children riding with camp fixtures in covered
wagons.

The Selkirkers' wagons are of a peculiar kind, no iron being used in
any part of their construction. There is but one pair of wheels,
having felloes about six inches thick. There are about fourteen spokes
to a wheel, and these spokes are about three feet long. The linch
pins, axles, and in fact everything about the carts, are of wood, very
massive and cumbrous. No grease is used on the axles, so that an
incessant groaning and creaking is kept up. The body of the cart is
nothing but a frame work similar to the wood-racks used in the lower
country. Sometimes a tilt covering is used for the wagons that carry
the women and children. Each cart is drawn by one ox fastened to the
shafts by straps of raw hide. One man has charge of five wagons, a
strap passing from the tail of one wagon over the horns of the ox
drawing the wagon immediately following it. When the driver whips the
first ox it starts forward, and the oxen in the squad of carts
attached to the moving wagon have to start at the same time.

The drivers of these trains are mixed French Canadians, English,
Scotch, and half breeds. In most cases the women are Indians, and
these travel with the train to do the cooking and general work of the
camp. When they camp for the night they bring all the wagons into a
close circle with the shafts outwards. Immediately inside of this
circle each ox is tied to the cart to which it belongs, and within
this inner circle of cattle the ponies are picketed. The tents are
then pitched within the whole, sentinels placed, and the camp composed
to sleep.

Salutations were exchanged with the Selkirkers' train as we passed,
and our journey was again resumed. At length we arrived at our village
a short distance from St. Anthony, and here preparations were made for
staying one month, during which the trading was to be done.

In this time our furs and skins were taken down to St. Paul, and, by
means of our interpreter were traded for whiskey, powder, rifles,
provisions of various kinds, weapons, and such other articles as were
needed by us. During these tradings I practiced myself in speaking
English, and could soon talk so as to make myself understood. I had
some conversations with the settlers, and became more anxious to
discover the facts in relation to my supposed parentage. I determined
that as soon as I went back I would demand my history from the old
chief, and if I could obtain any trace from him, I would then
prosecute the search after my parents.

When the trading was over and the supplies brought back to the camp,
there was a grand feast given, and the camp became a scene of drunken
debauchery for several days. Whiskey was drunk in great quantities,
and many quarrels took place between the men. As they had taken the
precaution of putting away their weapons before the drinking began, no
one was killed in the quarrels.

At length our time was up, the Indians got over their debauch, and
every thing was made ready for the return trip. We were soon on our
way, and marching with our faces to the North.

The journey to our northern headquarters had no particular incident to
interest me, my mind being now full of the idea that I had white
relatives and friends, and that the savage life I had led for so many
years was not the one for which I was born. I longed to reach our
village once more, that I might question the old chief as to my
history. At last we reached the main body of our tribe. I was rejoiced
to meet my Tefronia and the children once more, but at the same time a
new feeling had entered my breast. I waited impatiently two or three
days until the rejoicings caused by our return should have passed
away, and then I sought out the venerable chief, O-wash-kah-ke-naw,
now over eighty years old, and begged him to tell me truly the secret
of my birth.

For some time the chief bade me go back to my lodge and be content
with what I already knew, but, finding that I was resolute in
discovering the facts, he told me to await a few days in patience, and
then he would give his decision. I returned to my lodge in much
agitation, for it was evident that the chief knew something that had
hitherto been concealed from me. I had been so long accustomed to
savage life that I remembered no other.

A council of the leading chiefs only, called on the following day,
which I rightly considered was to consult on the course to be pursued
in respect to my demand. At last I was summoned before the great chief
and a few leading warriors, and was instructed as to the course
allotted for me.

I was then informed that when a child I had been stolen from the
whites by a band of Canadian Indians who had by this course revenged
themselves on the whites for some real or fancied wrongs; that I had
passed through the hands of several tribes and had at last, as I
already knew, been sold by the Siouxs to the Snakes, and remained with
them until their union with the Copper Heads. The decision of the head
men of the tribe was that I should join the train about to set out for
the settlements, and should then proceed in company with a few picked
warriors, to visit the remnants of the tribes in whose possession I
had once been, in order to learn more of my former history. At the
same time I was sworn to return to the tribe within a year after I
left the train at St. Paul, and to ensure the fulfillment of this
condition, my wife and children were to be retained in the old chief's
family at the headquarters of the tribe. To these conditions I freely
consented, and waited eagerly for the day when I should set out on my
journey.

At last the day arrived and I took a farewell of my wife and children.
The thought of them checked a little my eagerness to set out, but at
length I left them, fully intending to return as soon as I could
discover something of my former history.




CHAPTER IX.

MATTHEW BRAYTON'S NARRATIVE.

    Return to St. Paul -- Sick at Chicago -- Sets out in search
    of his Parents -- Reaches Cleveland -- Gets his Story Printed
    -- Visits Warren, O. -- Attends Camp Meeting -- Experiences
    Religion -- Reaches Sugar Grove.


The snows of winter had begun to fall when our party set out on the
route I had so recently traveled. The present company was placed under
command of a son of the principal chief, he being also the brother of
my wife. There is no reason for again describing the route, as we
traveled in the same trail that we pursued with the former party, and
this time there were no incidents of consequence to diversify the
monotony of the progress. About the beginning of April, 1859, we
reached our camping ground near St. Anthony, and on the 10th of that
month I arrived with a detachment of the tribe at St. Paul. We
remained here a few days, making inquiries of the Siouxs and Chippewas
that occasionally came in to trade, and from them I obtained a clue to
farther discoveries.

On the 16th of April I obtained leave from the chief to set out on
investigations, promising faithfully to return to St. Paul in July,
when the train would be ready to return.

To aid me in my researches I was accompanied part of the way by the
chief himself and some members of the tribe, and our party was
furnished with three ponies and five dogs. In pursuance to the
information obtained from the Sioux and Chippewas, we proceeded in
search of a party of Winnebagoes said to be located in Northern
Wisconsin. After traveling some days we reached the Wisconsin river,
and following it towards its source came on the Winnebagoes, who were
making sugar in the woods. From them I obtained the particulars of my
purchase by them from the Paw Paws, and was directed to a family yet
living in Michigan who could probably give me some farther
information.

Filled with hope I started, in company with my brother-in-law and the
other Indians, for Chicago. We traveled through the woods and across
the country, I acting as interpreter, being now able to speak English
with tolerable proficiency. Before reaching that city I was taken
sick, and on arriving there I fell into the hands of some sympathizing
persons who placed me under medical care. My escort, finding that I
had become so sick that I could neither prosecute my researches for
some time nor return with them, quitted me and returned to St. Paul,
leaving me only my faithful dog, Nawah.

I was very sick and do not remember much for two or three weeks, when
I found myself in a hospital, with my long hair cut off close to my
head and the paint scrubbed from my skin. To get it off they had used
hot water, soap and sand, and in the process had transformed me from
an Indian to a white man. I remained in the hospital for more than
five weeks, and then I was discharged as cured, though still very
weak.

On letting me go they gave me a suit of white men's clothing instead
of my Indian costume, leaving me nothing but my stone pipe and my
scalping knife. Nawah and I at once set out on our adventures, and my
steps were directed towards the place where the Paw Paw family was
said to reside. I found them after walking for two days, and then was
directed to a small village of Pottawottomies in Branch county,
Michigan. I walked to the place described, sleeping in the woods at
night as had been customary with me, but I soon found that I could no
longer do so with safety. With my long hair cut off and without my
blanket and furs, I was unprepared for camping out. The result was
that I caught a severe inflammation in my eyes that increased to an
extent threatening my sight. I could no longer bear the light and had
to walk with my head down.

On reaching the Pottawottomies I found they consisted of four families
and their chief, Mr. Macgwagor. They had settled down to civilized
life and were living as farmers. Mr. Macgwagor remembered the whole
transaction in relation to my purchase from the Canadian Indians, he
having been present at the transfer. He said the Canadian Indians had
stated at the time that they had taken me from the south side of Lake
Erie, and that, from their description, the party had probably brought
me from Ohio, as they spoke of having crossed the Sandusky river
during the journey on which they fell in with me.

On learning this I set out for Detroit and crossed over into Canada,
but without obtaining much farther information among the few
semi-civilized Indians and half-breeds that I met with there. All I
could gather was that I had probably been taken from somewhere in the
vicinity of Cleveland.

I now retraced my steps to Detroit and proceeded into Ohio, telling my
story as I went and requesting information. At Fremont I fell in with
a man who listened to my story with attention and remarked that he had
formerly heard of a family named Todd, who had lost a little boy from
the neighborhood of Cleveland a number of years ago. Acting under his
suggestions, on the following day I got on the railroad train and came
to Cleveland, where I arrived in the latter part of August.

I was in Cleveland about one day, making inquiries relative to the
Todd family and telling my story, but without getting any information
that was of use. The Todd family had removed many years since, and
I could not learn their whereabouts. I had begun to despair of ever
finding traces of my parents when a friendly colored man who had
met me and learned my story, took me to the office of the Cleveland
_Daily Herald_ for the purpose of telling my story to the editors. We
succeeded in finding one of them, Mr. J. H. A. Bone, in the office,
together with another gentleman. I told my story to them and was
cross-questioned by them very closely. In the end I was directed to an
old citizen of the place for the purpose of making inquiries, and was
told to call again and tell the result.

The person to whom I was directed was out of town, and I learned
nothing farther that night. Several persons took considerable interest
in my story and wished me well in my journeyings. Next morning I was
on the street when I saw some furs and other articles of Esquimaux
dress at the door of a building, and was told that a panorama of the
Arctic regions was on exhibition, and that one of the men belonging to
it--Thomas Hickey--had been in the far North. I went up to see him,
and to him and the proprietor, Mr. La Rue, told my story.

I then accompanied Mr. La Rue to the office of the _Herald_, and there
I again met Mr. Bone, who made me repeat my story and then printed it
with a request that any person possessing information of probable use
to the "Indian Captive" would at once furnish it.

The interest taken in my story by the editors of the Cleveland
_Herald_ has been the means of my return to my relatives.

I remained in Cleveland several days and my story excited much
interest. Some persons furnished me with portions of clothing of which
I stood in need, and I was furnished with food and sleeping room at
one of the hotels. The people at the house were surprised at my
refusal to sleep in a bed and to eat cooked meat or anything that had
salt in it, but I could not endure the method of eating or sleeping
used by civilized white people.

In a few days I learned that some persons in Warren, O., could
probably give me some information, and thither I went, the Cleveland
and Mahoning Railroad Company taking me without my paying fare. On
arriving there I found that the people to whom I was directed had gone
out of town to attend a camp meeting in Mahoning county. Some persons
going to the meeting invited me to accompany them, and in their
company I arrived at the camp meeting.

A short time sufficed to convince me that I had got on the wrong track
and that I was not the missing son of Joseph Todd. Great interest was,
however, occasioned by my story, and many questions were put to me. I
showed the Presiding Elder papers given me in proof of my belonging to
the Indian tribe and related my adventures. Finally I showed them my
dog, scalping knife and pipe. The Presiding Elder, Mr. Anson Brazee,
was so much interested in my story that he got me to repeat it to the
whole meeting. I remained with these people throughout the meeting,
and before it broke up I became thoroughly convinced of the truth of
the Christian religion and joined the church of the United Brethren.
In token that I had forever abandoned the bloody practices of
heathenism I broke my scalping knife in two, giving the handle and
part of the blade to Elder Brazee, and the other part of the blade to
a circuit preacher, the Rev. William Mclntyre. When the camp broke up
I accompanied the elder and some of the ministers to a conference in
Stark county, and from thence went to Williamsfield, Ashtabula county,
where I stayed with some farmers belonging to the church of the United
Brethren.

After staying with these good people about a fortnight I went to
Monroe, Ashtabula county, in search of some information that I
expected to get there, but failed to obtain anything of use. I then
accepted the invitation of Elder Brazee and went to his house in
Pierpont, Ashtabula county, where I stayed a short time. From there I
went to Conneautville, thence to Clark's Corners and to Connorsville.
From that place the minister sent a letter to Cleveland stating that I
had gone into Pennsylvania, and giving directions where I probably
could be heard of.

I continued to wander from place to place, wherever the faintest hope
existed of my getting any information, and in this way I visited Erie,
Waterford, Wattsburgh, and finally reached Warren, Pa., where the Rev.
William McIntyre was stationed. I remained with him a short time and
then retraced my steps to Ashtabula county, after which I again
returned to Mr. Mclntyre's and from thence went to Columbus, Pa.

My hopes of finding my relatives had now almost died out. Nearly six
months had passed, but I seemed no nearer the object of my search than
I was when I left St. Paul. Wearied out with fruitless efforts, I had
resolved to make one more attempt, and if that failed, to abandon the
search for ever and return to my tribe on the approach of spring. My
eyes remained very bad, and I therefore labored under great
disadvantages, having to be careful lest the inflammation should
increase and destroy my sight. I had gone to school for a few days in
Pennsylvania, but the state of my eyes compelled me reluctantly to
abandon the idea for the present, at least.

From Columbus I went to Sugar Grove, Warren county, Pa., close to the
New York State line. My intention was to remain there a day or two,
and then set out for the Cattaraugus Indian Reservation where I
intended making my last effort at obtaining information. If I failed
there I meant either to return to the Rev. Mr. Mclntyre's residence
and attend school for the winter, or go into Canada and remain with
the Indians until spring, when it would be time to return to St. Paul.
On the 18th of November I was at Sugar Grove when Mr. W. T. Smith, a
farmer living in New York State, just across the line, drove up with
his wagon early in the morning to take me to his house, where I was to
stay a few days previous to leaving for the Cattaraugus Reservation. I
little dreamed, when I arrived at the house, that the end of my
journeyings was so near, and that the object of the search which I had
almost abandoned in despair was already within a few hours of
attainment.




CHAPTER X.

FOUND AT LAST.


The narration of the circumstances which led to the discovery of
Matthew Brayton by his relatives requires us to go back a little from
the point to which his account has brought the reader. The intervening
years between the loss of Matthew Brayton by his relatives and the
present time have caused many changes in the neighborhood once so
excited in consequence of that loss. The red men clung for many years
to their last foothold in Ohio. Four years after the loss of the boy,
the Delawares left their village below Upper Sandusky, and set out for
their new homes farther west. Two years afterwards the Senecas
extinguished their council fires and sought a resting place nearer the
Rocky Mountains. But the Wyandots held tenaciously to their homes, and
eighteen years passed away before they finally consented to abandon
Ohio to the exclusive occupation of the white race.

Fine farms now cover the site of the waste land and woods over and
through which the weary hunt for the missing boy was conducted day
after day. Towns and villages have sprung up where humble log cabins
here and there stood in the incipient clearing, and the huts of the
red skins have passed away forever.

The sturdy farmer, Elijah Brayton, who once returned to his cabin from
the weary journey to Chillicothe after millstones, and was met by news
that made the blood forsake his parental heart in a sudden rush, had
passed by some years the allotted period of man's life, and is fast
progressing towards his fourscore years. William, the boy of sixteen
who had set out with his little brother on that search for stray
cattle, but had returned without him, has reached the meridian of
life, and sees around him a young family springing up. Long since, the
paternal cabin near the Tymochte Creek has disappeared, and two or
three miles away from it, somewhere in the direction where the two
brothers had separated thirty-four years ago, a fine brick house has
become the dwelling of the oldest son of Elijah Brayton. Up at
Springville, some five or six miles farther to the northwest, and at
no great distance from the trail on which the young boy was borne off
by the thieving Canadian Indians, lives another brother, Peter, and
one of the married sisters. Here also lives the patriarch himself.
There are other sisters who mourned when their brother was lost, and
they too are married. A son and daughter born to the patriarch of the
family after the loss of Matthew, have long since died, and another
son, Asa, younger yet, pursues the practice of medicine in the
adjoining town of Carey.

The publication of the "Indian Captive's" narrative in the Cleveland
_Herald_ was the means of creating considerable interest in his
fortunes. The story was extensively copied, and several letters were
received by the editors of that paper from people in different
sections of the country who had lost children many years ago; it was
supposed by means of Indians. None of these letters afforded any clue
by which the Indian Captive could trace out his family.

A weekly paper containing the story, copied from the Cleveland
_Herald_, was sent by a friend to the Braytons, and this first gave
them an idea that there might be a possibility of recovering the
missing member of the family. On the 26th of September, one month
after the first publication of the narrative, Dr. Asa Brayton wrote to
the editors of the _Herald_, stating the manner in which he had met
with the article, and giving some particulars of the method in which
his brother Matthew had been lost. About a week afterwards a cousin of
the Doctor called at the office of that paper, and made inquiries
respecting the Indian Captive. He was followed in a few days by Mr.
Peter Brayton, one of the brothers of the missing Matthew, who went to
Warren, O., in search of the "Captive," but lost trace of him there
and returned discouraged.

The interest in the subject did not abate, and from time to time the
_Herald_ gave some intelligence regarding the wanderings of the
"Indian Captive." The more the Braytons considered the matter the
stronger was their desire to satisfy themselves, and on the tenth of
November, William Brayton, the eldest brother, who had accompanied
Matthew on the morning of the day when the latter was lost, set out
with the determination of not returning until he could satisfy himself
as to whether the "Indian Captive" was identical with his lost
brother, or not.

Previous to setting out, William was charged by his father to examine
the man for two marks by which his identity could probably be
established. One was a scar on the top of the head, caused by a razor
cut which the father had made in lancing a boil, and the other was a
scar on the great toe of the right foot, resulting from the cut of an
axe.

William Brayton came to Cleveland and learned that the person of whom
he was in search had been heard of in Northern Pennsylvania, and was
directed where to go. At the place pointed out he struck the trail of
the "Captive," and traced him to Sugar Grove. Here he learned that the
man had crossed the State line into New York. The chase was too near
at an end to allow any delay, so Mr. Brayton took along a doctor as
witness of the interview, and set out for the house of Mr. Smith,
where it was said that the "Captive" had gone.

It was seven o'clock in the evening when the two arrived at the house,
and the daylight was fast fading into darkness. They knocked at the
door, and, in response to an invitation from within, entered the
house. A man, with his boots off, was drying his feet at the fire. Mr.
Brayton stepped forward eagerly and enquired where the "folks" were,
and was told that they were out doing some work in the yard. Mr.
Brayton said he wanted them called in, and wished a light struck
at once, following up the request with the question whether the
man to whom he spoke was the "Indian Captive." On being told in the
affirmative he became greatly agitated and proceeded at once to get a
light. The "Captive" hastily drew on his boots, buckled his dog to his
belt, and drew back with suspicion from the strangers. As soon as the
light was obtained Mr. Brayton bade the "Captive" bare his head, and
then both he and his companion examined the spot where his father
had told them to search for the scar. The emotion of William Brayton
may be imagined when the scar was plainly revealed to his eyes,
unmistakable in its character, and situated precisely where he had
been told to look for it. In an agitated voice he bade the man take
the boot from his right foot, which was done, and there too, was a
scar visible, just where it had been described to exist.

The emotions of William Brayton may be imagined, but cannot be
portrayed. The brother for whose loss he had always reproached himself
was at length found through his means, and the sorrows of thirty-four
years were at an end. For some minutes he paced up and down the room,
his whole frame convulsed with agitation. Then he turned to the cause
of all this emotion, who sat perfectly astonished at the proceedings,
and the "Indian Captive" was declared to be the long lost Matthew
Brayton.

A letter was at once sent home, containing the glad news of the
discovery, and, as soon as possible, the reunited brothers set out in
the same direction.

At every station on the road home, crowds gathered, and at Carey,
where they were expected to stop, hundreds were collected--old men who
had searched for the lost boy--aged mothers who had held him in their
arms--young men who had heard the story narrated by their parents. But
the couple stopped five miles north of Carey, at Adrian Station, and
at once started for William Brayton's house.

Here the family were gathered. The old man, seventy-three years of
age, but still hale and vigorous--the brothers and sisters. When the
eldest brother entered with his charge the intense feeling that
prevailed the hearts of all in the room can scarcely be
imagined--cannot be described. The aged father arose, placed his
trembling hand on the head of the stranger, and searched for the scar,
which he could scarcely distinguish through the mist that filled his
eyes. Then he knelt to examine the foot. For a moment every breath was
hushed, and the hearts of the other relatives almost ceased to beat.
Then the old man tottered to his feet, and with a gush of tears--the
stream of affection that had been pent up for the third of a
century--fell on the neck of his son--Matthew Brayton! It is useless
to attempt a description of the scene that followed. The father that
had so long secretly mourned for his child, the household pet; the
brother who never forgot that it was from his company that the little
boy had passed away to a mysterious fate; the other brother who had
been his playmate; the sisters who had fondled their little brother in
infancy--all were gathered to share in that happy meeting. There was
one absent whose presence was needed to make the cup of joy full to
overflowing, but her motherly heart might perhaps even then be
rejoicing in Heaven for the happiness on earth.

The news of the return spread like wildfire. The return was on
Thursday the 17th of November. For days afterwards the house was
besieged by anxious people eager to see the "boy" so long lost, and so
strangely found. Old men who had shared with zeal in that weary and
hopeless search thirty-four years ago, came up, and all who had known
him as a little boy, acknowledged the identity.

At present Matthew Brayton, the hero of these strange adventures, is
residing with his father and brothers, and has become somewhat
reconciled to civilized life. He has abandoned his design of returning
to the Indians, and is endeavoring to fit himself for the different
lot now assigned him. He has attended school as frequently as the
state of his eyes permitted, and can now read a little, as well as
converse very readily in the English language. After his thirty-four
years of wanderings and hardships it is to be hoped that he will now
be content to remain among his family and partake to the full of the
blessings of civilization.

       *       *       *       *       *

The foregoing is a reproduction of a book published in 1860, giving
the strange history of this Indian Captive. After returning to
civilization, he resided for a few months in Carey and Fostoria, and
made several lecture tours giving an account of his adventures and the
manners and customs of the Indians.

This mode of life was too much of a change from the wild life he had
been living, and when the war of the Rebellion broke out he enlisted
in an Indiana Regiment, and went to the South to fight for his
country. He proved a brave soldier, but while in the service he was
taken dangerously ill, and after a short sickness died at Pittsburgh
Landing in 1862.