# History of the Ojibway Nation/Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV.
Emigration of the Ojibways from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, to their occupation of the area of Lake Superior.
The history of the Ojibway tribe, till within the past five centuries, lies buried in darkness and almost utter oblivion. In the preceding chapter we have feebly attempted to lift the veil which covers their past, by offering well-founded facts which can be excusably used in the formation of conjectures and probabilities. All is, however, still nothing but surmise and uncertainty, and what of this nature has been presented, has not been given, nor can it be considered as authentic history. We will now descend to times and events which are reached by their oral historic traditions, and which may be offered as certain, though not minute history. Through close inquiry and study of their vague figurative traditions, we have discovered that the Ojibways have attained to their present geographical position, nearly in the centre of the North American continent, from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, about the Gulf of the St. Lawrence River. The manner in which I first received a certain intimation of this fact, may ​illustrate it more forcibly to the reader, and is presented as follows:—
I was once standing near the entrance of an Ojibway Me-da-we-gaun, more commonly known as the "Grand Medicine Lodge," while the inmates were busy in the performance of the varied ceremonies of this, their chief medical and religious rite. The lodge measured in length about one hundred feet, and fifteen in width, was but partially covered along the sides with green boughs of the balsam tree, and the outside spectator could view without hindrance the different ceremonies enacting within. On a pole raised horizontally above its whole length were hung pieces of cloth, calico, handkerchiefs, blankets, etc.—the offerings or sacrifice of the novice who was about to be initiated into the mysteries of the Me-da-we society. The lodge was full of men and women who sat in a row along both of its sides. None but those who were members of the society and who had regularly been initiated, were allowed to enter. They were dressed and painted in their best and most fancy clothing and colors, and each held in his hand the Me-da-wi-aun or medicine sack, which consisted of bird skins, stuffed otter, beaver and snake skins.
The novice in the process of initiation sat in the centre on a clean mat facing the Me-da-wautig, a cedar post planted in the centre of the lodge, daubed with vermilion and ornamented with tufts of birds' down. The four old and grave-looking We-kauns, or initiating priests, stood around him with their medicine sacks, drums, and rattles.
As I partially understood, and could therefore appreciate, the meaning and objects of their strange ceremonies, and could partially understand their peculiar religious idiom, I stood, watched, and listened with a far deeper interest than could be felt in the mind of a mere casual observer, who is both unacquainted with the objects of the rites or ​language of these simple children of nature, and who, in his greater wisdom, deems it but the unmeaning mummery and superstitious rites of an ignorant race, buried in heathenish darkness.
One of the four We-kauns, after addressing a few remarks to the novice in a low voice, took from his medicine sack, the Me-da-me-gis, a small white sea-shell, which is the chief emblem of the Me-da-we rite. Holding this on the palm of his hand, he ran slowly around the inside of the lodge, displaying it to the inmates, and followed by his fellow We-kauns swinging their rattles, and exclaiming in a deep guttural tone, "whe, whe, whe." Circling the lodge in this impressive manner, on coming again to the novice, they stopped running, uttering a deep, sonorous, "Whay-ho-ho-ho." They then quietly walked off, and taking their stand at the western end of the lodge, the leader still displaying the shell on the palm of his hand, delivered a loud and spirited harangue.
The language and phrases used were so obscure to a common listener, that it would be impossible to give a literal translation of the whole speech. The following passage, however, forcibly struck my attention:
"While our forefathers were living on the great salt water toward the rising sun, the great Megis (sea-shell) showed itself above the surface of the great water, and the rays of the sun for a long period were reflected from its glossy back. It gave warmth and light to the An-ish-in-aub-ag (red race). All at once it sank into the deep, and for a time our ancestors were not blessed with its light. It rose to the surface and appeared again on the great river which drains the waters of the Great Lakes, and again for a long time it gave life to our forefathers, and reflected back the rays of the sun. Again it disappeared from sight and it rose not, till it appeared to the eyes of the An-ish-in-aub-ag on the shores of the first great lake. Again it ​sank from sight, and death daily visited the wigwams of our forefathers, till it showed its back, and reflected the rays of the sun once more at Bow-e-ting (Sault Ste. Marie). Here it remained for a long time, but once more, and for the last time, it disappeared, and the An-ish-in-aub-ag was left in darkness and misery, till it floated and once more showed its bright back at Mo-ning-wun-a-kaun-ing (La Pointe Island), where it has ever since reflected back the rays of the sun, and blessed our ancestors with life, light, and wisdom. Its rays reach the remotest village of the wide spread Ojibways." As the old man delivered this talk, he continued to display the shell, which he represented as the emblem of the great megis of which he was speaking.
A few days after, anxious to learn the true meaning of this allegory, I proceeded one evening to the lodge of the old priest, and presenting him with some tobacco and cloth for a pair of leggings (which is an invariable custom when any genuine information is wanted of them, connected with their religious beliefs), I requested him to explain to me the meaning of his Me-da-we harangue.
After filling his pipe and smoking of the tobacco I had presented, he proceeded to give me the desired information as follows:—
"My grandson," said he, "the megis I spoke of, means the Me-da-we religion. Our forefathers, many string of lives ago, lived on the shores of the Great Salt Water in the east. Here it was, that while congregated in a great town, and while they were suffering the ravages of sickness and death, the Great Spirit, at the intercession of Man-ab-o-sho, the great common uncle of the An-ish-in-aub-ag, granted them this rite wherewith life is restored and prolonged. Our forefathers moved from the shores of the great water, and proceeded westward. The Me-da-we lodge was pulled down and it was not again erected, till ​our forefathers again took a stand on the shores of the great river near where Mo-ne-aung (Montreal) now stands.
"In the course of time this town was again deserted, and our forefathers still proceeding westward, lit not their fires till they reached the shores of Lake Huron, where again the rites of the Me-da-we were practised.
"Again these rites were forgotten, and the Me-da-we lodge was not built till the Ojibways found themselves congregated at Bow-e-ting (outlet of Lake Superior), where it remained for many winters. Still the Ojibways moved westward, and for the last time the Me-da-we lodge was erected on the Island of La Pointe, and here, long before the pale face appeared among them, it was practised in its purest and most original form. Many of our fathers lived the full term of life granted to mankind by the Great Spirit, and the forms of many old people were mingled with each rising generation. This, my grandson, is the meaning of the words you did not understand; they have been repeated to us by our fathers for many generations."
Thus was it that I first received particular corroborating testimony to the somewhat mooted point of the direction from which the Ojibways have reached their present geographical position. It is only from such religious and genuine traditions that the fact is to be ascertained. The common class of the tribe who are spread in numerous villages north and west of Lake Superior, when asked where they originally came from, make answer that they originated from Mo-ning-wuna-kaun-ing (La Pointe), and the phrase is often used in their speeches to the whites, that "Mo-ning-wuna-kaun-ing" is the spot on which the Ojibway tribe first grew, and like a tree it has spread its branches in every direction, in the bands that now occupy the vast extent of the Ojibway earth; and also that "it is the root from which all the far scattered villages of the tribe have sprung."
​A superficial inquirer would be easily misled by these assertions, and it is only through such vague and figurative traditions as the one we have related, that any degree of certainty can be arrived at, respecting their position and movements prior to the time when the tribe first lit their central fire, and built their Me-da-we lodge on the Island of La Pointe.
There is another tradition told by the old men of the Ojibway village of Fond du Lac—Lake Superior, which tells of their former residence on the shores of the great salt water. It is, however, so similar in character to the one I have related, that its introduction here would occupy unnecessary space. The only difference between the two traditions, is that the otter, which is emblematical of one of the four Medicine spirits, who are believed to preside over the Medawe rites, is used in one, in the same figurative manner as the sea-shell is used in the other; first appearing to the ancient An-ish-in-aub-ag from the depths of the great salt water, again on the river St. Lawrence, then on Lake Huron at Sault Ste. Marie, again at La Pointe, but lastly at Fond du Lac, or end of Lake Superior, where it is said to have forced the sand bank at the mouth of the St. Louis River. The place is still pointed out by the Indians where they believe the great otter broke through.
It is comparatively but a few generations back, that this tribe have been known by their present distinctive name of Ojibway. It is certainly not more than three centuries, and in all probability much less. It is only within this term of time, that they have been disconnected as a distinct or separate tribe from the Ottaways and Potta-wat-um-ies. The name by which they were known when incorporated in one body, is at the present day uncertain.
The final separation of these three tribes took place at the Straits of Michilimacinac from natural causes, and the ​partition has been more and more distinctly defined, and perpetuated through locality, and by each of the three divided sections assuming or receiving distinctive appellations:—
The Ottaways remaining about the spot of their final separation, and being thereby the most easterly section, were first discovered by the white race, who bartered with them their merchandise for furs. They for many years acted as a medium between the white traders and their more remote western brethren, providing them in turn at advanced prices, with their much desired commodities. They thus obtained the name of Ot-tah-way, "trader," which they have retained as their tribal name to the present day. The Potta-wat-um-ees moved up Lake Michigan, and by taking with them, or for a time perpetuating the national fire, which according to tradition was sacredly kept alive in their more primitive days, they have obtained the name of "those who make or keep the fire," which is the literal meaning of their tribal cognomen.
The Ojibways, pressing northward and westward, were soon known as an important and distinctive body or tribe, and meeting with fierce and inveterate enemies, the name of Ojibway, "to roast till puckered up," they soon obtained through practising the old custom of torturing prisoners of war by fire, as has already been mentioned more fully in a previous chapter. The original cause of their emigration from the shores of the Atlantic westward to the area of Lake Superior, is buried in uncertainty. If pressed or driven back by more powerful tribes, which is a most probable conjecture, they are not willing to acknowledge it.
From the earliest period that their historical traditions treat of, they tell of having carried on an exterminating ​war with the Iroquois, or Six Nations of New York, whom they term Naud-o-waig, or Adders. The name indicates the deadly nature of these, their old and powerful antagonists, whose concentrated strength and numbers, and first acquaintance with the use of the white man's murderous fire arms, caused them to leave their ancient village sites and seek westward for new homes.
Sufficient has been seen and written since their discovery by the white race, of the antagonistical position of these two different families, or group of tribes, to prove the certainty of the above surmise. The name of Naud-o-wa-se-wug, which is sometimes applied to the Dakotas by the Ojibways, is derived from the name by which they have ever known the Iroquois.—Naud-o-waig; it implies "our enemies," but literally, means "like unto the adders." Various definitions have been given to this name by different writers; the above is now presented as the only true one.
It is a well-authenticated fact traditionally, that at the Falls of Sault Ste. Marie, the outlet of Lake Superior, the Ojibways, after separating from the Ottaways and Pottawatumees, made a long and protracted stay. Their village occupied a large extent of ground, and their war-parties numbered many warriors who marched eastward against the Naudoways, and westward against the Dakotas, with whom at this point they first came into collision.
At this point the Ojibway tribe again separated into two divisions, which we will designate as the Northern and Southern. The Northern division formed the least numerous body, and consisted chiefly of the families claiming as Totems the reindeer, lynx, and pike. They proceeded gradually to occupy the north coast of Lake Superior, till they arrived at the mouth of Pigeon River (Kah-mau-a-tig-wa-aug). From this point they have spread over the country they occupy at the present day ​along the British and United States line, and north, far into the British possessions. A large band early occupied and formed a village at Rainy Lake. Here they first came in contact with the Assineboins (a tribe of seceding Dakotas), and from this point, after entering into a firm and lasting peace with the Assineboins and Knis-te-nos, they first joined their brethren of the Southern division in their wars against the fierce Dakotas. This band have to this day retained the cognomen of Ko-je-je-win-in-e-wug, from the numerous straits, bends, and turnings of the lakes and rivers which they occupy.
A large body of this Northern division residing immediately on the north shores of the Great Lake, at Grand Portage and Thunder Bay, and claiming the Totem of the Ke-nouzhay or Pike, were formerly denominated O-mush-kas-ug. Tradition says that at one time their fellow-Ojibways made war on them. This war was brought about by persons belonging to the Pike family murdering some members of the Marten Totem family. It was but the carrying out of their custom of "blood for blood." It was neither very deadly nor of long duration, and to illustrate its character more fully, I will introduce the following traditional anecdote:—
A party consisting of warriors belonging to the Marten family was at one time collected at Fond du Lac. They proceeded on the war-path against the family of the Omush-kas, living on the north shore of the Great Lake, for this family had lately spilled their blood. They discovered a single wigwam standing on the sandy shores of the lake, and the Martens, having stealthily approached, raised the war-whoop, and as was the custom in battle (to show their greater manhood), they threw off every article of clothing, and thus, perfectly naked, rushed furiously to the attack. The Omush-kas, head of the family occupying the threatened lodge, was busy arranging his fish​net, and not aware that war had been declared, he paid no attention to his yelling visitors, but calmly continued his peaceful occupation.
One of the Martens, rushing into the lodge, and, throwing his arms about him, exclaimed, "Ene-ne-nin-duk-o-nah" (a man I hold), meaning that he took him captive.
The simple Omushkas, looking up, merely remarked, "Let me go; you are tangling my net." Still the Marten, keeping his hold, more loudly exclaimed, "Ene-ne-nin-duk-o-nah." The Omushkas, now perceiving his nakedness, grasped a sensitive part of his person, in turn jokingly exclaimed, "Nin-sah-eta-in-ne-ne-nin-duk-o-nah" ("'tis only I who truly hold a man"), and the simple man continued to consider the attack as a mere farce. The war-club, however, of the enraged Marten now descended with fearful force on his head, and he died exclaiming, "Verily they are killing me."
A considerable body of the Northern Ojibways are denominated by their fellow-tribesmen Sug-wau-dug-ah-win-in-e-wug (men of the thick firwoods), derived from the interminable forests of balsam, spruce, pine, and tamarac trees which cover their hunting-grounds. Their early French discoverers named them "Bois Forts," or Hardwoods.
Another section forming the most northern branch of this tribe are denominated Omushke-goes (Swamp-people), derived also from the nature of the country they occupy.
The Northern division, which comprises these different sections, having been separated from the main body of the tribe forming the Southern division, now upwards of eight generations, a difference (though not a radical one), has become perceptible in their common language. This consists mostly in the pronunciation, and so slight is the difference in idiom that one good interpreter, speaking the language of each division, may suffice for both.
​The characteristics, also of the northern section of the tribe, differ materially in some important respects from those of their southern and western brethren. Not having been opposed by enemies in the course of their northern emigration, they are consequently not warlike, and the name of Waub-ose (Rabbit), is often applied to them by their more warlike fellows, on account of their mild and harmless disposition.
At the partition of the Ojibway tribe into two divisions, at Sault Ste. Marie, the main body pressed their way gradually up along the southern shores of Lake Superior. They made a temporary stand at Grand Island, near the Pictured Rocks, again at L'Anse Bay, or as they more euphoniously name it, We-qua-dong. This grand division consisted principally of the Crane Totem family, the Bear, the Catfish, the Loon, and the allied Marten and Moose clans. These great families with their several branches, form at least eight-tenths of the whole Ojibway tribe.
The Cranes claim the honor of first having pitched their wigwams, and lighted the fire of the Ojibways, at Shaug-ah-waum-ik-ong, a sand point or peninsula lying two miles immediately opposite the Island of La Pointe. This fact is illustrated by the following highly allegorical and characteristic tradition:—
As a preliminary remark, it is necessary to state that there exists quite a variance between three or four of the principal Totems, as to which is hereditarily entitled to the chief place in the tribe.
At a council (in which the writer acted as interpreter), held some years ago at La Pointe, between the principal chiefs of the Ojibways and the United States Government Agent, the following allegory was delivered by an old chief named Tug-waug-aun-ay, in answer to the mooted question of "who was the hereditary chief of La Pointe?"
Ke-che-wash-keenh (Great Buffalo), the grandson of the ​celebrated chief Au-daig-we-os (mentioned in Schoolcraft's works), head of the Loon Totem clan, was at this time, though stricken with years, still in the prime of his great oratorical powers.
On this occasion he opened the council by delivering a most eloquent harangue in praise of his own immediate ancestors, and claiming for the Loon family the first place and chieftainship among the Ojibways. After he had finished and again resumed his seat, Tug-waug-aun-ay, the head chief of the Crane family, a very modest and retiring man, seldom induced to speak in council, calmly arose, and gracefully wrapping his blanket about his body, leaving but the right arm free, he pointed toward the eastern skies, and exclaimed: "The Great Spirit once made a bird, and he sent it from the skies to make its abode on earth. The bird came, and when it reached half way down, among the clouds, it sent forth a loud and far sounding cry, which was heard by all who resided on the earth, and even by the spirits who make their abode within its bosom. When the bird reached within sight of the earth, it circled slowly above the Great Fresh Water Lakes, and again it uttered its echoing cry. Nearer and nearer it circled, looking for a resting place, till it lit on a hill overlooking Boweting (Sault Ste. Marie); here it chose its first resting place, pleased with the numerous white fish that glanced and swam in the clear waters and sparkling foam of the rapids. Satisfied with its chosen seat, again the bird sent forth its loud but solitary cry; and the No-kaig (Bear clan), A-waus-e-wug (Catfish), Ah-auh-wauh-ug (Loon), and Mous-o-neeg (Moose and Marten clan), gathered at his call. A large town was soon congregated, and the bird whom the Great Spirit sent presided over all.
"Once again it took its flight, and the bird flew slowly over the waters of Lake Superior. Pleased with the sand point of Shaug-ah-waum-ik-ong, it circled over it, and ​viewed the numerous fish as they swam about in the clear depths of the Great Lake. It lit on Shaug-ah-waum-ik-ong, and from thence again it uttered its solitary cry. A voice came from the calm bosom of the lake, in answer; the bird pleased with the musical sound of the voice, again sent forth its cry, and the answering bird made its appearance in the wampum-breasted Ah-auh-wauh (Loon). The bird spoke to it in a gentle tone, 'Is it thou that gives answer to my cry?' The Loon answered, 'It is I.' The bird then said to him, 'Thy voice is music—it is melody—it sounds sweet in my ear, from henceforth I appoint thee to answer my voice in Council.'
"Thus," continued the chief, "the Loon became the first in council, but he who made him chief was the Bus-in-aus-e (Echo Maker), or Crane. These are the words of my ancestors, who, from generation to generation, have repeated them into the ears of their children. I have done."
The old man took his seat in silence, and not a chief in that stricken and listening crowd arose to gainsay his words. All understood the allegory perfectly well, and as the curling smoke of their pipes arose from the lips and nostrils of the quiet listeners, there ascended with it the universal whisper, "It is true; it is true."
As an explanation of the figures used in the above traditional allegory, we will add, that the crane, commonly named in the Ojibway language Uj-e-jauk, is the symbol or totem of a large section of the tribe. This bird loves to soar among the clouds, and its cry can be heard when flying above, beyond the orbit of human vision. From this "far-sounding cry" the family who claim it as their totem derive their generic name of Bus-in-aus-e-wug (Echo Makers). This family claim, by this allegory, to have been the first discoverers and pioneer settlers at Sault Ste. Marie, and again at Pt. Shaug-ah-waum-ik-ong.
The Loon is the Totem also of a large clan. This bird ​is denominated by the Ojibways, Mong, but the family who claim it as their badge, are known by the generic name of Ah-auh-wauh, which is derived by imitating its peculiar cry. This family claim the hereditary first chieftainship in the tribe, but they cannot substantiate their pretensions further back than their first intercourse with the old French discoverers and traders, who, on a certain occasion, appointed some of their principal men as chiefs, and endowed them with flags and medals. Strictly confined to their own primitive tribal polity, the allegory of the Cranes cannot be controverted, nor has it ever been gainsaid.
To support their pretensions, this family hold in their possession a circular plate of virgin copper, on which is rudely marked indentations and hieroglyphics denoting the number of generations of the family who have passed away since they first pitched their lodges at Shaug-a-waum-ik-ong and took possession of the adjacent country, including the Island of La Pointe or Mo-ning-wun-a-kaun-ing.
When I witnessed this curious family register in 1842, it was exhibited by Tug-waug-aun-ay to my father. The old chief kept it carefully buried in the ground, and seldom displayed it. On this occasion he only brought it to view at the entreaty of my mother, whose maternal uncle he was. Father, mother, and the old chief, have all since gone to the land of spirits, and I am the only one still living who witnessed, on that occasion, this sacred relic of former days.
On this plate of copper was marked eight deep indentations, denoting the number of his ancestors who had passed away since they first lighted their fire at Shaug-a-waum-ik-ong. They had all lived to a good old age.
By the rude figure of a man with a hat on its head, placed opposite one of these indentations, was denoted the ​period when the white race first made his appearance among them. This mark occurred in the third generation, leaving five generations which had passed away since that important era in their history.
Tug-waug-aun-ay was about sixty years of age at the time he showed this plate of copper, which he said had descended to him direct through a long line of ancestors. He died two years since, and his death has added the ninth indentation thereon; making, at this period, nine generations since the Ojibways first resided at La Pointe, and six generations since their first intercourse with the whites.
From the manner in which they estimate their generations, they may be counted as comprising a little over half the full term of years allotted to mankind, which will materially exceed the white man's generation. The Ojibways never count a generation as passed away till the oldest man in the family has died, and the writer assumes from these, and other facts obtained through observation and inquiry, forty years as the term of an Indian generation. It is necessary to state, however, for the benefit of those who may consider this as an over-estimate, that, since the introduction of intoxicating drinks and diseases of the whites, the former well-authenticated longevity of the Indians has been materially lessened.
According to this estimate, it is now three hundred and sixty years since the Ojibways first collected in one grand central town on the Island of La Pointe, and two hundred and forty years since they were first discovered by the white race.
Seventy-seven years after, Jacques Cartier, representing the French nation, obtained his "first formal meeting with the Indians of the interior of Canada," and fifty-six years before Father Claude Allouez (as mentioned in Bancroft's History of America), first discovered the Ojibways congre​gated in the Bay of Shaug-a-waum-ik-ong, preparing to go on a war excursion against their enemies the Dakotas.
From this period the Ojibways are traditionally well possessed of the most important events which have happened to them as a tribe, and from nine generations back, I am prepared to give, as obtained from their most veracious, reliable, and oldest men, their history, which may be considered as authentic.
In this chapter we have noted the course of their migrations, which, in all likelihood, occupied nearly two centuries prior to their final occupation of the shores of Lake Superior.
These movements were made while they were living in their primitive state, when they possessed nothing but the bow and arrow, sharpened stones, and bones of animals wherewith to kill game and fight their enemies. During this period they were surrounded by inveterate foes, and war was their chief pastime; but so dreamy and confused are their accounts of the battles which their ancestors fought, and the exploits they enacted, that the writer has refrained from dwelling on them with any particularity. One tradition, however, is deemed full worthy of notice, and while offering it as an historical fact, it will at the same time answer as a specimen of the mythological character of their tales which reach as far back as this period.
During their residence in the East, the Ojibways have a distinct tradition of having annihilated a tribe whom they denominate Mun-dua. Their old men, whom I have questioned on this subject, do not all agree in the location nor details. Their disagreements, however, are not very material, and I will proceed to give, verbatim, the version of Kah-nin-dum-a-win-so, the old chief of Sandy Lake:
"There was at one time living on the shores of a great lake, a numerous and powerful tribe of people; they lived congregated in one single town, which was so large that a ​person standing on a hill which stood in its centre, could not see the limits of it.
"This tribe, whose name was Mun-dua, were fierce and warlike; their hand was against every other tribe, and the captives whom they took in war were burned with fire as offerings to their spirits.
"All the surrounding tribes lived in great fear of them, till their Ojibway brothers called them to council, and sent the wampum and warclub, to collect the warriors of all the tribes with whom they were related. A war party was thus raised, whose line of warriors reached, as they marched in single file, as far as the eye could see. They proceeded against the great town of their common enemy, to put out their fire forever. They surrounded and attacked them from all quarters where their town was not bounded by the lake shore, and though overwhelming in their numbers, yet the Mun-dua had such confidence in their own force and prowess, that on the first day, they sent only their boys to repel the attack. The boys being defeated and driven back, on the second day the young men turned out to beat back their assailants. Still the Ojibways and their allies stood their ground and gradually drove them in, till on the eve of the second day, they found themselves in possession of half the great town. The Mun-duas now became awake to their danger, and on the third day, beginning to consider it a serious business, their old and tried warriors, 'mighty men of valor,' sang their war songs, and putting on their paints and ornaments of battle, they turned out to repel their invaders.
"The fight this day was hand to hand. There is nothing in their traditionary accounts, to equal the fierceness of the struggle described in this battle. The bravest men, probably, in America, had met—one party fighting for vengeance, glory, and renown; and the other for everything dear to man, home, family, for very existence itself!
​"The Mun-dua were obliged at last to give way, and hotly pressed by their foes, women and children threw themselves into, and perished in the lake. At this juncture their aged chief, who had witnessed the unavailing defence of his people, and who saw the ground covered with the bodies of his greatest warriors, called with a loud voice on the 'Great Spirit' for help (for besides being chief of the Mun-duas, he was also a great medicine man and juggler).
"Being a wicked people, the Great Spirit did not listen to the prayer of their chief for deliverance. The aged medicine man then called upon the spirits of the water and of the earth, who are the under spirits of the 'Great Spirit of Evil,' and immediately a dark and heavy fog arose from the bosom of the lake, and covered in folds of darkness the site of the vanquished town, and the scene of the bloody battle. The old chieftain by his voice gathered together the remnants of his slaughtered tribe, and under cover of the Evil Spirit's fog, they left their homes forever. The whole day and ensuing night they travelled to escape from their enemies, until a gale of wind, which the medicine men of the Ojibways had asked the Great Spirit to raise, drove away the fog; the surprise of the fleeing Mun-duas was extreme when they found themselves standing on a hill back of their deserted town, and in plain view of their enemies.
"'It is the will of the Great Spirit that we should perish,' exclaimed their old chief; but once more they dragged their wearied limbs in hopeless flight. They ran into an adjacent forest where they buried the women and children in the ground, leaving but a small aperture to enable them to breathe. The men then turned back, and once more they met their pursuing foes in a last mortal combat. They fought stoutly for a while, when again overpowered by numbers, they turned and fled, but in a ​different direction from the spot where they had secreted their families: but a few men escaped, who afterward returned, and disinterred the women and children. This small remnant of a once powerful tribe were the next year attacked by an Ojibway war-party, taken captive, and incorporated in this tribe. Individuals are pointed out to this day who are of Mun-dua descent, and who are members of the respected family whose totem is the Marten."