This done, he was taken back and tied fast to a tree. Then they smoked and drank of the "fire water," and when evening came they kindled large fires around him. And now commenced the orgies; they drank to intoxication, they danced and sang in their wild Indian manner, chanting the dirge of the recreant brave. The arrow was fitted to the ready bowstring, and ever and anon with its shrill twang it sent a missile into the quivering flesh of the homicide, and to heighten his misery they cut off his ears and nose.

Alternately drinking, dancing, beating their rude drums and shooting arrows into the victim, the night passed.

The next day was spent in sleeping and eating, the victim, meanwhile, still bound to the tree. What his reflections were we of course cannot tell, but he bore his punishment as a warrior should.

When night closed around it brought his executioners to their work again. The scene of the first night was re-enacted, and so it was the next night, and the next and the next, and so on for a week. Seven long and weary days did he stand there, tortured with the most cruel torture, before his proud head dropped upon his breast, and his spirit left his clayey tenement for the hunting grounds of the Great Spirit. And when it did they took the body, wrapped it in a new clean blanket, and placed it in the log coffin he had helped to hollow. They put his hunting knife by his side that he might have something to defend himself on the way; his whisky bottle, that he might cheer his spirits with a draught now and then, and his tobacco pipe that he might smoke. Then they put on the cover, drove down stakes each side of the log, and filled up between them with logs and brush. The murdered squaw was avenged. The camp was broken up, and the old stillness and quiet once more reigned over the forest spot where was consummated this signal act of retributive justice.

CHAPTER III.

WELL REMEMBERED SAVAGES.

Before completing this section of the work, it is deemed just and proper to place before the reader a few personal sketches of the men who were found here when the sun of civilization began to cast its golden stream upon the land. In the selection of the names to be noticed, the Indians located within the county within its pioneer period are chosen, leaving the others to be referred to in the treaty

papers.

Cobmoosa, whose death at Pentwater was recorded as recently as 1872, was an Indian of the Indians. For many years he acted as sub-chief over the Flat River band of Indians, was very conservative in his ideas, majestic in style, honest in principle, and a heart of oak among his people. In his young days the band beheld his rapid growth, great strides and peculiar gesture. He was named The "Big Walker," or Cobmoosa, and until toward the close of his career here, observed every point that could tend to a continuance of this title. He was the foster father of Wabacis, and the parent of Acongo and Aishkibegosh. Previous to his acceptance of the Christian's faith he was master of six wives, three of whom were sisters, daughters of the chief, Wobwindego. Cobmoosa observed all the manners and customs of his race until 1861, when he relaxed his Indian discipline, cast away his Indian pride, and died almost as poor in principle as any of the latter day members of his tribe.

Wakazoo, chief of the IIolland band, was distinguished above his fellows. Manly in every respect, generous to a fault, possessing talents of a high order, and fully aware of the superiority of the whites over his people, he never failed to inculcate the observance of law, the acquisition of knowledge and the pursuit of honest labor. In 1848 this chief removed with his band to Grand Traverse, and there died the death of a drunkard.

Maxsauba, one of the braves of the Holland band, claiming to be the only specimen of the Indian warrior left to the race, was a sub-chief. He had the reputation of being a great orator and fighting-man; but opposed to all this was a temper untamable, and a thirst for blood unquenchable. He looked on the white invaders. with scorn, yet feared to touch them in life and property. He was terrible in the midst of his friends, a mouse in the villages of the white settlers. Was the "massasauga" rattlesnake named after him?

So-na-go, one of the Coldwater Indians and the last sexton of the Indian cemetery, was a savage singularly romantic and eccentric, yet chivalrous and conscientious. After brooding over his rude

ideas of the philosophy of nature, he waited for the happy time when he could commune more closely with those good Indians of his tribe who had passed to the spirit land. In later years, when the old camp ground at the mouth of the Coldwater had passed into the hands of the whites, So-na-go, the Indian chief, was accustomed to visit the mounds, under which the bones of his people rested, and there was seen to offer up a prayer to the Great Spirit, brush away his tears, and leave the scene of his griefs by some unfrequented path.

Wabasis, well known to the first pioneers of the valley as the treaty-making half-breed, was engaged in the negotiation of the treaty of 1826, and incurred all the displeasure of the tribe. He was exiled, as it were, to live out his years within the boundaries of a small garden on the shore of Lake Wabasis. Neogamah, the newly elected chief, induced him to participate in the corn feast at Plainfield; they got him drunk, and killed him with a fire-brand. They buried him with his head above the ground; built a crib round his grave, and in it they daily placed food and tobacco for the nourishment and comfort of the dead in the land of the hereafter. His grave was located 20 rods south of Plainfield bridge.

The story of Wabasis is told by Mrs. Kutts, of Oakfield. From it the following lines are taken:

Oh, pitiless the hand to slay

Where vengeance lured its baffled prey,
While Wabasis defenseless stood,
And dared the throng, athirst for blood.
But, when his voice in death was still,
Memories thronged, the heart to thrill;
And many feet with silent tread,
Moved slow, in honor of the dead.
In regal state the chief was laid,
With death-dance to appease his shade.
But not forgot--for white man's gold,
Their pleasant hunting grounds were sold;
And when the dark night-shadows came,
With many a torch-light's glaring flame,
They bore the big chief to his rest
Upon the highland's lifted crest.
They placed him sitting on the hill,
That he might see the white man till
The broad plains, where his fathers sleep,
When gone were all his people's feet.
They placed him sitting in his grave,
Where he could see the gleaming wave;
And watch the white man's big canoe,
When faded were the forms he knew.
They placed him by the white man's trail,
That he might see the stranger pale;

And where his passing feet should be

A long rebuke to treachery.

They roofed him o'er with little trees,

And bade him wait, and watch through these.

But wofully the red man rued

The day their hands in blood were brued

For, ever at the feast of corn

Was heard his voice in taunting scorn;

And here and there his vengeful soul
Led on the hunt for hidden gold;
Then in some lone and tangled fell
Would ring his wild, unearthly yell.
Each new moon on his grave they laid
Tobacco, to appease his shade.

But still the chief, who laid him low,
Grew nerveless as an unstrung bow;

And when the White Swan's drooping head
Told Indian that his soul had fled,

He went not on the death-trail, lone—
The red chief, too, had with him gone.

Kewaycooshcum, known to the old settlers of Grand Rapids and of the valley generally, fell at the hands of the executioner of the Indians' Secret Tribunal in August, 1839. He was among the most noted chiefs of the Flat River Indians, a celebrated warrior, and a great admirer of Gen. Lewis Cass. He was present at the negotiation of the treaties of Chicago, again at Saginaw, at Flint, and at Detroit, at each of which places he represented the interests of the Ottawa nation. Indian jealousy envied his growing popularity among the traders of Michigan, looked on the courtesies extended to him by the white settlers with a suspicious eye, charged him ultimately with perfidy in agreeing to the sale of their Indian soil, and capped tribal malice by inflicting the great penalty of death.

This chief was prevailed upon, in 1821, to enter into a treaty. with the United States Government ceding all the lands west of Grand river. To accomplish this treaty he made a journey to Washington in company with Rix Robinson and others, where he was entertained by the President, who made him many presents and won his warmest friendship. By the stipulations of this treaty all the Indians in the vicinity of Owashtenong were to remove to a reservation west of the Mississippi.

When Kewaycooshcum returned and laid the plan of the treaty before a council of the chiefs of the villages it was received with great disapproval. Many of the savage councilmen delivered long and eloquent speeches setting forth the disadvantage of leaving their homes, which had become dear to Indian hearts by many fond recollections. "Here we have buried our dead," said one of the chiefs, and here we should remain to protect their graves. This is our home-the home of our youth. Here we were reared on the banks of the beloved Owashtenong, whose beauty has become our pride and boast. Here our fathers died and were laid to rest. Here we have held our councils, prosecuted our trade, and preserved peace and friendship with all nations. Why go to a strange land to mingle with strange people? Why forsake the graves of our ancestors? Have we become unpleasant to our brothers, the whites, that we must hide ourselves from their presence? What evil have we committed? Why thus sacrifice that which is most dear to the heart of every chief and warrior? Has our chief tasted the fire-water of the pale faces and been blinded to the welfare of his people? Let him answer!"

Kewaycooshcum replied in an eloquent speech, representing the advantages of the treaty and urging his subject to extend a cheerful acquiescence, but to all his pleadings he received a prompt and indignant rebuke. They claimed that he had sold their homes and their liberties and had therefore become their enemy.

This council was held in 1836 at the village of the Ottawas and Chippewas, on the west side of the river, and resulted in the ruin of Kewaycooshcum.

The unfortunate "payment day" had gathered the tribe at Grand Rapids, the bounty was paid out in usual form, and the various bands left for their reserves. "Long Nose, or Kewicooshcum, Ka-she-wa, old Wasogenaw, Wapoos, with a boy and girl, remained behind, the seniors carousing, the youths sitting in a canoe anchored close by the mouth of Cold brook. The supply of whisky was growing very small, when Ka-she-wa and Wapoos proposed going to the village to replenish it. While they were gone old Wasogenaw sought quarrel with his chief, and coolly meted out the measure of Indian vengeance. Some years after this tragic affair, Seth Robinson became interested in obtaining all the facts connected with the death of "Long Nose." He found among the Flat River band the boy who witnessed the bloody scene, and elicited from him the particulars which he was desirous of obtaining. The Indian boy related the murder scene as follows:

"I sat on the stern of the canoe, tied to the bank of Grand river, near the mouth of Cold brook. I had a knife in my hand, peeling a turnip. The two old men, Wasogenaw and Kewicooshcum, sat on the bank by the fire. I heard Wasogenaw say, 'You old fool! did you not know better than to sell this whole territory and impoverish your nation? I am going to take your life!' Kewicooshcum, pulling out and flourishing his knife, said, 'You can't do that! Do you see this?' The other man bent down to ine and said, 'Do you see that man? He is what has impoverished you. Let me take that knife you have got; I am going to kill him. Then I want you to help me put him in this canoe, and we will take him to the middle of the river, and throw him in.' I dropped my knife into the river, and said, 'I have no knife.' The old man said, 'I thought I saw you peeling a turnip with a knife.' Showing him a sliver of wood, I said, 'No, I had only this.' The old man became very furious; and raving about, went to the bank of the river, and pulled out a maple club about two feet long, with a knot at one end. He brandished it around frantically, capering the while and saying to me, This is the way when you kill something.' Then, rushing up to Kewicooshcum, and saying, with frantic gestures, 'This is the way when you kill something,' struck him on the head. The old man threw up his hands and feet, dropped his knife and begged. The other kept on striking, and repeating the same expression. I jumped out of the canoe, and ran toward the village. Wasogenaw called to me to stop. I ran faster, he following. Jumping across