Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk-Tales With notes on the origin, customs and character of the Pawnee people — Reading Companion
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ve--he would give a pony for it. For one year he went on like this, gathering together these pretty things. When the year had gone by he had no horses left; he had given them all away to get these presents. He packed all these things up in a bundle, and then spoke one night to his friend, saying, "I intend to go off on the warpath again, and I would like to have you go with me; we two will go alone." His friend agreed to go.
Before the time came to start, other young men heard of it, and several joined them. There were eight of them in all. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ was the leader. He told his young men that they were going to a certain place where he knew there were lots of spotted horses to steal. They started out on foot. After traveling many days, they came to the place where the camp had been at the time he saw the girl. There was now no camp there.
They went on further, and at length came to a camp and hid themselves. When night came the leader told his men to remain where they were hiding, and he would go into the camp and see if there were any horses to take. He went through all the camp looking for the lodge in which he had seen the girl, but he did not find it. Then he went back to where the young men were hiding, and told them that this was not the camp they were looking for; that they did not have here the spotted horses that they wanted. In the camp of the year before there had been many spotted horses.
The young men did not understand this, and some of them did not like to leave this camp without taking any horses, but he was the leader and they did as he said. They left that camp and went on further.
After traveling some days they came to another camp, and hid themselves near it. When night came on _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said to his young men, "You stay here where you are hiding, and I will go into this camp and see if it is the one we are looking for." He went through the camp but did not find the lodge he sought. He returned to the hiding place, and told the party there that this was not the camp they were looking for, that the spotted horses were not there. They left the camp and went on.
When they had come close to the mountains they saw another camp. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ went into this camp alone, and when he had been through it, he went back to his party and told them that this was the camp they had been looking for. Then he sent the young men into the camp to steal horses, and he put on his fine leggings and moccasins that he had in his bundle, and painted himself and went with them. He took a horse and his friend took one. They met outside the village. He told his friend to get on his own horse and lead the other, and with the rest of the party to go off east from the camp to a certain place, and there to wait for him. "I have seen," he said, "another fine horse that I like, and I wish to go back and get it."
His friend looked sorrowfully at him and said, "Why are you all dressed up like this, and why is your face painted? What are you doing or what is in your mind? Perhaps you intend to do some great thing to-night that you do not want me, your friend, to know about. I have seen for a long time that you are hiding something from me."
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ caught his friend in his arms and hugged him and kissed him and said, "You are my friend; who is so near to me as you are? Go on as I have said, and if it turns out well I will tell you all. I will catch up with you before very long."
His friend said, "No, I will stay with you. I will not go on. I love you as a brother, and I will stay with you, and if you are going to do some great thing I will die with you."
When _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ found that his friend was resolved to remain with him, he yielded and told him his secret. He said to him, "My brother, when we were on the warpath a year ago, and I took those two spotted horses, I heard a little noise in the lodge by which they were tied. I looked in and I saw there a girl sitting by the fire combing her hair. She was very pretty. When I took the spotted horses away, I could not put that girl out of my mind. I remembered her. Brother, when we went back home that girl was constantly in my mind. I could not forget her. I came this time on purpose to get her, even if it shall cost me my life. She is in this camp, and I have found the lodge where she lives."
His friend said, "My brother, whatever you say shall be done. I stay with you. You go into the camp. I will take the horses and go to that high rocky hill east of the camp, and will hide the horses there. When you are in the village I will be up in one of the trees on the top of the hill, looking down on the camp. If I hear shooting and see lots of people running to the lodge I will know that you are killed, and I will kill myself. I will not go home alone. If I do not see you by noon, I will kill myself."
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said, "It is good. If I am successful I will go up there after you, and take you down into the camp."
They parted. The friend hid the horses and went up on the hill. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ went into the camp.
It was now the middle of the night. When he came to the lodge, he saw there was a fire in it. He did not go in at once; he wanted the fire to go out. He stayed around the lodge, and gradually the fire died down. It was dark. He went into the lodge. He was painted and finely dressed, and had his bundle with him. He took his moccasins off and his leggings, and hung them up over the girl's bed; then strings of beads, then five or six medals, bracelets, ear-bobs, beaded leggings, everything he had--his shirt. He took his blanket, and spread it over the bed where the girl was lying, stepped over the bed, and crept under his own blanket, and lay down by her side.
When he lay down she woke up, and found that there was some one lying by her, and she spoke to him, but he did not answer. He could not understand her, for he did not know Comanche. She talked for a long time, but he did not speak. Then she began to feel of him, and when she put her hands on his head--_Pi-ta´-da_--Pawnee--an enemy! Then she raised herself up, took a handful of grass from under the bed, spread the fire and put the grass on it. The fire blazed up and she saw him. Then she sprang up and took the top blanket, which was his, off the bed, and put it about her, and sat by the fire. She called her father and said, "Father get up; there is a man here."
The old man got up, and got his pipe and began smoking. This old man was the Head Chief of the Comanches. He called the servant, and told him to make a fire. The girl got up and went over to where her mother was lying and called her. The mother got up; and they all sat by the fire.
The old man smoked for a long time. Every now and then he would look at the bed to see who it could be that was lying there, and then he would look at all the things hanging up over the bed--at the medals and other things. He did not know what they were for, and he wondered. At length the old man told the servant to go and call the chiefs of the tribe, and tell them to come to his lodge.
Presently the chiefs came in one by one and sat down. When they had come there was still one brave who ought to have come that was not there. His name was Skin Shirt; the father wanted him. He sent for him three times. He sent word back to the chief to go on with the council, and that he would agree to whatever they decided. The fourth time he was sent for he came, and took a seat by the chief, the girl's father. This brave spoke to _Kut-a´wi-kutz_, and told him to get up, and take a seat among them. He did so. The girl was sitting on the other side of the fire. When he got up, he had to take the blanket that was left, which was the girl's. He put it around him, and sat down among them.
When the chiefs came in, there was among them a Pawnee who had been captured long ago and adopted by the Comanches, and was now himself a chief; he talked with _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ and interpreted for him, telling him everything that was said as each one spoke.
After the young man had seated himself, the chief filled his pipe, and gave the pipe to his brave to decide what should be done with this enemy. The brave took the pipe, but he did not wish to decide, so he did not light it, but passed it on to another chief to decide. He passed it on to another, and he to another, and so it went until the pipe came back to the Head Chief. When he got it again, he asked _Kut-a´wi-kutz_, "Why have you come here this night and lain down in my lodge, you who are an enemy to my people? And why have you hung up in the lodge all these strange things which we see here? I do not understand it, and I wish to know your reasons."
The boy said to him, "A long time ago I came south on the warpath to steal horses. I traveled until I came to your camp. I saw three horses tied outside a lodge, two spotted horses and a gray. While I was cutting one of the ropes, I heard a little noise inside the lodge, and pushing aside the door I looked in, and saw that girl combing her hair. I stole the two spotted horses, and took them out of the camp, and gave them to a friend of mine, and came back to your lodge, and kept looking at the girl. I stayed there until she went to bed. For a long year I have been buying presents; beads and many other things, for I had made up my mind that I would go after this girl. I came down here to find her. I have been to where you were camped last year, and to two other camps that I discovered. She was not in these and I left them, and came on until I found the right camp. This is the fourth place. Now I am here. I made up my mind to do this thing, and if her relations do not like it they can do as they please. I would be happy to die on her account."
When he had spoken the old chief laughed. He said: "Those two spotted horses that you stole I did not care much about. The gray horse was the best one of the three, and you left him. I was glad that you did not take him. He was the best of all." Then for a little while there was silence in the lodge.
Then the chief, the girl's father, began to talk again; he said, "If I wanted to decide what should be done with this man, I would decide right now, but here is my brave, Skin Shirt, I want him to decide. If I were to decide, it would be against this man, but he has my daughter's blanket on, and she has his, and I do not want to decide. I pass the pipe to my brave, and want him to light it."
The brave said, "I want this chief next to me to decide," and he passed him the pipe, and so it went on around the circle until it came to the Head Chief again. He was just about to take it and decide the question, when they heard outside the lodge the noise made by some one coming, shouting and laughing; then the door was pushed aside and an old man came in, and as he passed the door he stumbled and fell on his knees. It was the girl's grandfather. He had been outside the lodge, listening.
The pipe was passed to the chief, and he gave it again to his brave to decide. While the brave was sitting there, holding the pipe, the old grandfather said, "Give me the pipe, if you men cannot decide, let me do it. In my time we did not do things this way. I never passed the pipe; I could always decide for myself."
Then Skin Shirt passed him the pipe, and he lit it and smoked. Then he said, "I do not wish to condemn to death a man who is wearing my granddaughter's blanket." The interpreter began to tell _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ that the old man was going to decide in his favor, and that when he got through speaking he must get up and pass his hands over him, and thank him for taking pity on him, and so to all the others. The old man continued, "Now, chiefs, do not think hardly of what I am going to say, nor be dissatisfied with my decision. I am old. I have heard in my time that there is a tribe up north that is raising from the ground something that is long and white, and something that is round; and that these things are good to eat. Now, chiefs, before I die, I want to eat of these things, and I want my granddaughter to go and take her seat by this man, and for them to be man and wife. Since I was young we have been enemies, but now I want the two tribes to come together, join hands and be friends." And so it was decided.
The young man got up and passed his hands over the old man, and over the brave, and passed around the circle and blessed them all. The Pawnee, who was interpreter, now told him to get up, and get a medal and put it on the brave, and then another and put it on the chief, and so on until all the presents were gone. And he did so, and put on them the medals, and ear-rings, and strings of beads, and breast-plates of wampum, until each had something. And these things were new to them, and they felt proud to be wearing them, and thought how nice they looked.
By this time it was daylight, and it had got noised abroad through the camp that there was a Pawnee at the Head Chief's lodge, and all the people gathered there. They called out, "Bring him out; we want him out here." They crowded about the lodge, all the people, the old men and the women and the young men, so many that at last they pushed the lodge down. They shouted: "Let us have the Pawnee. Last night they stole many horses from us." The chiefs and braves got around the Pawnee, and kept the Comanches off from him, and protected him from the people. The Cheyennes were camped close by, near the hill southeast of the Comanches, and they, too, had heard that the Comanches had a Pawnee in the camp. They came over, and rode about in the crowd to try and get the Pawnee, and they rode over a Comanche or two, and knocked them down. So Skin Shirt got his bow and arrows, and jumped on his horse, and rode out and drove the Cheyennes away back to their camp again.
The Cheyennes saw that the Comanches did not want the Pawnee killed, so they sent a message inviting him over to a feast with them, intending to kill him, but Skin Shirt told them that he was married into the tribe. While the Cheyennes were parading round the Comanche camp, they were shooting off their guns in the air, just to make a noise. Now, the young Pawnee on the hill, who was watching the camp to see what would happen to his friend, saw the crowd and heard the shooting, and made up his mind that _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ had been killed. So he took his knife, and put the handle against a tree and the point against his breast, and put his arms around the tree and hugged it, and the knife blade passed through his heart and he fell down and died.
In the afternoon when all the excitement had quieted down, the Cheyennes came over again to the Comanche camp, and invited the Pawnee and his wife to go to their village, and visit with them. Then Skin Shirt said, "All right, we will go." Three chiefs of the Comanches went ahead, the Pawnee followed with his wife, and Skin Shirt went behind. They went to the Cheyenne camp. The Cheyennes received them and made a great feast for them, and gave the Pawnee many horses. Then they went back to the Comanche camp. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ never went up to the hill until the next morning. Then he went, singing the song he had told his friend he would sing. He called to him, but there was no reply. He called again. It was all silent. He looked for his friend, and at last he found him there dead at the foot of the tree.
_Kut-a´wi-kutz_ then stayed with the Comanches. The Cheyennes came north and east, and the Comanches went on west, nearer to the mountains. While the Pawnee was with the Comanches, they had several wars with the Utes, Lipans and Tonkaways. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ proved himself a brave man, and, as the son-in-law of the chief, he soon gained great influence, and was himself made a chief.
After some years the old man, his wife's grandfather, told the Pawnee that he thought it was time that he should eat some of those things that he had long wanted to eat that grew up north; that he was getting pretty old now. _Kut-a´wi-kutz_ said, "It is time. We will go." So he had his horses packed, and with his immediate family and the old man, started north toward the Pawnee country. At this time he was called _Kut-a´wi-kutz-u si-ti´-da-rit_, which means "See! The Hawk." When going into battle he would ride straight out to strike his enemy, and the Comanches who were looking at him would say, "See! The Hawk." So that became his name.
They traveled a long time until they came to the Pawnee ground. As they were traveling along, they came to a field where were growing corn, beans and squashes. The Pawnee said to the old man, "Grandfather, look at that field. There are the things that you have desired to eat." He got off his horse and went into the field, and pulled some corn, some beans and some squashes, and took them to the old man, and gave them to him. The old man supposed they were to be eaten just as they were, and he tried to bite the squashes. This made the Pawnee laugh. When they came to the village, the Pawnees were very glad to see him who had been lost long ago. He told the people that he had brought these Indians to eat of the corn and other things; that they were his kinsfolk. He told them, too, about the young man who had killed himself. His relations went out into the fields, and gathered corn and beans and squashes, and cooked them for the Comanches.
Grinnell opens his 1889 volume with a visit to Eagle Chief, whose deep-voiced Lau greeting and quick hand-over-mouth astonishment set a tone of personal encounter. The chief’s response to Grinnell’s purpose—to record stories before they are lost—frames the collection as a deliberate preservation effort. The author’s note reveals that most material was gathered on a single visit to the Pawnee Agency in Indian Territory, and the dedication to Major Frank North, a white officer known as Pa´-ni Le-shar, signals the complex cross-cultural relationships underpinning the work.
Diction of Direction and Distance
Grinnell’s ethnographic notes dwell on how the Pawnee language encodes geography. He explains that words for cardinal directions derive from tribal neighbors: Pŭk-tĭs´-tu (toward the Omahas) means north, and Ki´ri-ku´ruks-tu (toward the Wichitas) means south. The Platte River’s west-to-east course gives ra-ru´ks-tu and ra-ru´ks-tu their meanings of west and east. These linguistic fossils, Grinnell argues, point to a long sojourn on the Platte. He notes that the Omahas once lived north of the Pawnees, though historically they were east—a detail he uses to speculate on ancient migrations. The coining of such directional terms, he suggests, reflects a people deeply attuned to their neighbors and landscape.
Voice and Framing in the Hero Stories
The hero stories are told in a plain, declarative style, with minimal embellishment. In “Comanche Chief, the Peace-Maker,” the narrative moves through direct action and reported speech, often introduced by phrases like “he said” or “they answered.” Grinnell’s role as collector is largely invisible; he lets the tales unfold without editorial commentary. However, the framing device—a white interlocutor asking about “how things used to be”—is established in the preface and colors the reader’s expectation. Eagle Chief’s own words, “If we had known how to write, we would have put all these things down,” underscore the oral transmission and the anxiety of loss that motivates the book.
Recurring Motifs: Bundles, Sacrifice, and Transformation
Several tales involve sacred bundles, such as “A Comanche Bundle,” and acts of sacrifice, as in “The Boy who Was Sacrificed.” These objects and rituals are treated with matter-of-fact gravity, not exoticism. The folk-tales also feature transformations—a man becomes a bear, a ghost wife returns—but the narrative voice does not dwell on wonder. Instead, it reports events in the same even tone used for hunting or war. This consistency suggests that for the Pawnee storytellers, the supernatural was woven into everyday life. Grinnell’s notes on the Skidi band’s history, including their separation from the Arickaras, provide a cultural backdrop for these motifs, though he admits that much of the historical reconstruction is “speculative.”
Grinnell’s Ethnographic Method and Its Limits
Grinnell is candid about the gaps in his knowledge. He writes that “it is impossible to fix, even approximately, the time when the Pawnees and the Skidi came together,” and he relies on “hints gathered from conversations with the older men.” His notes on the Skidi’s possible residence near St. Louis are presented as tentative, based on “testimony of men still living.” This cautious approach contrasts with the confident tone of the hero stories themselves. Grinnell does not claim to have captured an authentic, unmediated oral tradition; he acknowledges that stories “may have changed as they passed from father to son.” The reader is left to weigh the reliability of the accounts, aware that the collector’s presence and the act of writing inevitably alter the material.
Grinnell’s volume is best read as a layered document: the hero stories and folk-tales sit alongside ethnographic notes that sometimes contradict or complicate them. The reader should attend to the moments when Grinnell’s voice breaks in—his speculations on migration, his explanations of language—and consider how these frame the Pawnee narratives. The book does not offer a single, authoritative account but rather a conversation between collector and informants, preserved in the formal, slightly archaic prose of the late nineteenth century.
Sometimes I think of Eagle Chief’s stories, told by firelight, and how they carry a loneliness that feels familiar. It reminds me of the quieter paths in The Man-Wolf and Other Tales — Inside the Classic, where transformation is less a marvel than a slow acceptance. These old voices linger, unhurried, asking nothing of us but our patience.
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