THE GEORGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY. 519 



strange and unaccountable an operation ; but having been made to understand iny 

 views, they began to look upon it as a great honor, and afforded me the opportu- 

 nities that I desired, exhibiting the utmost degree of vanity for their appearance, both 

 as to features and dress. The consequence was that my room was filled with the 

 chiefs, who sat around, arranged according to the rank or grade which they held in- 

 the estimation of their tribe ; and in this order it 'became necessary for me to paint 

 them, to the exclusion of those who never signalized themselves and were without 

 any distinguishing character in society. 



"The first man on the list was Ha-wan-glxee-ta (One Horn), (see No. 693 head chief 

 of the nation, of whom I have heretofore spoken, and after him the subordinate 

 chiefs or chiefs of bands, according to the estimation in which they were held by the 

 chief and the tribe. My models were thus placed before me, whether ugly or beauti- 

 ful, all the same, and I saw at once there was to be trouble somewhere, as I could not 

 paint them all. The medicine-men or high priests, who are esteemed by many the 

 oracles of the nation and the most important men in it, becoming jealous, com- 

 menced their harangues outside of the lodge, telling them that they were all fools, 

 that those who were painted would soon die in consequence, and that these pictures, 

 which had life to a considerable degree in them, would live in the hands of white 

 men after they were dead, and make them sleepless and endless trouble. 



"Those whom I had painted, though evidently somewhat alarmed, were unwilling 

 to acknowledge it, and those whom I had not painted, unwilling to be outdone in 

 courage, alio wed me the privilege, braving and defying the danger that they were evi- 

 dently more or less in dread of. Feuds began to arise, too, among some of the chiefs 

 of the different bands, who (not unlike some of the instances amongst the chiefs and 

 warriors of our own country) had looked upon their rival chiefs with unsleeping 

 jealousy, until it had grown into disrespect and enmity. An instance of this kind 

 presented itself at this critical juncture in this assembly of inflammable spirits, which 

 changed in a moment its features from the free and jocular garrulity of an Indian 

 levee to the frightful yells and agitated treads and starts of an Indian battle. I 

 had in progress at this time a portrait of Mah-to-tchee-ga (Little Bear), of the Onc- 

 pa-pa band, a noble, fine fellow, who was sitting before me as I was painting (Plate 

 273, No. 84). I was painting almost a profile view of his face, throwing a part of it into 

 shadow, and had it nearly finished, when an Indian by the name of Shon-ka (the 

 Dog), chief of the Caz-a-zshee-ta band (Plate 275, No. 85), an ill-natured and surly 

 man, despised by the chiefs of every other band, entered the wigwam in a sullen 

 mood and seated himself on the floor in front of ray sitter, where he could have a 

 full view of the picture in its operation. After sitting a while with his arms folded 

 and his lips stiffly arched with contempt, he sneeringly spoke thus : 



u ' Mah-to-tchee-ga is but half a man.' 



"Dead silence ensued for a moment, and nought was in motion save the eyes of the 

 chiefs, who were seated around the room and darting their glances about upon each 

 other in listless anxiety to hear the sequel that was to follow. During this interval 

 the eyes of Mah-to-tchee-ga had not moved; his lips became slightly curved, and he 

 pleasantly asked, in low and steady accent, ' Who says that ? ' ' Shon-ka says it, ' was 

 the reply, ' and Shon-ka can prove it. ' At this the eyes of Mah-to-tchee-ga, which 

 had not yet moved, began steadily to turn, and slow, as if upon pivots, and when 

 they were rolled out of their sockets till they had fixed upon the object of their con- 

 tempt, his dark and jutting brows were shoving down in trembling contention, with 

 the blazing rays that were actually burning with contempt the object that was before 

 them. ' Why does Shon-ka say it ? ' 



" ' Ask We-chash-a-wa-kon, (the Painter) ; he can tell you; he knows you are but 

 half a man; he has painted but one-half of your face, and knows the other half is 

 good for nothing.' 



" 'Let the painter say it, and I will believe it ; but when the Dog says it let him 

 prove it.' 



