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As soon as I was of age, my father gave
me a pony and a little money. I bought
some trinkets and went among the Coosas
on a trading expedition. In this I suc
ceeded so well that I was soon able to en
large my business. Money came in upon
me very fast, for I had no love for the
Coosas, and did not hesitate to cheat them
on all occasions, because they were them
selves such cheats and liars. They had
no mercy on a white man, and would take
every advantage of him possible. You
may judge of what I say when I mention
a few facts.
I once called upon a very old Indian
woman to learn her age. She was quite
free-spoken, and seemed ready to tell
anything I asked her about. As for her
age, she said that she had seen so many
“moons” she had long stopped counting
them, for the want of numbers. This did
not surprise me, because I knew that
most Creeks could not count beyond
Parli-parlin (ten tens.) But when I ask
ed her to tell me something that she re
collected in early life—some war, some
work, something that happened—she told
me with solemn face, and tried to make
me believe that she recollected the time
when her people first dug out the Chatta
hoochee river.*
About five or six years ago a white
man (who lives near that little town I
hear people begin to talk about, by the
name of Columbus,) went over the river
to attend a big gathering at a ball-plav.
Ho rode a horse that ho kept purposely
very poor-looking, but which was never
theless one' of the swiftest nags of its size.
His object was to draw some rich red-skin
into a race on a large bet, and by this
means to win back some of the money
that he had lost in former bets with them.
He picked his man, persuaded him into a
race, and bantered him to a very high
bet. They went to tho ground, stationed
the judges and started. Barnet, for that
was the white man’s name, was fond of
bin as well as of money, and was so con
fident of tho speed of his horso that he
allowed tho Indian some distance the
start, in order to enjoy seeing him dig in
to his pony’s ribs, and try to keep ahead.
At the close of tho race he lot out his
horse to full speed and came out far in
advance.
“Now,” says ho, turning with a laugh
to his competitor, “pay mo your bet.”
“Umph !” says tho other, “will pay you
when judge say so.”
“What’g the use of tho judge saying
This incident and the one next succeeding, are still
If a^o( t Columbus, Ga., as part of tho early history of
neighborhood.
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
anything ?” Barnet asked. « Didn’t I win
the race ?”
“ Will pay when judge say so,” the oth
er repeated.
“ But did I not give you the start, and
then come out ahead?” Barnet asked again.
The Indian still said, “Will pay when
judge say so.”
The matter was then referred to the
judges. They went off to themselves and
soon returned, saying—“ Injin heat."
Barnet was amazed at their impudence,
and asked:
“ Did I not him the start ?” “ Yes.”
“And did I not come out ahead?”
“ Yes.”
“How then can you say that ho beat?”
“Injin beat most," they answered.
“ Beat most! What do you mean ?”
“ White man beat at the two ends ; In
jin beat in the middle.”
And with this decision they put the
stakes into the Indian’s hands. Barnet
returned home a wiser man than he came,
lie never, after that, trusted a Coosa.
And I had a touch of that experience
once myself. While I was keeping store
near where Columbus is growing up, a
young hunter who had often traded with
me, and who had been as fair as any
Coosa is known to be, came in, offering to
purchase a few articles, and to pay for
them with a very fat deer which he said
he had just killed, and which ho offered
very low, on condition that I should send
for it. I had no misgiving in the case,
for I knew the young man, and knew the
very spot where he reported the deer to
be hanging, (on a sapling, near a large
poplar, the other side of a pond, not a
quarter of a mile off,) and moreover I had
noticed the report of a rifle in that direc
tion only a few minutes before the fellow
came in. lie got what he asked for and
went off. I did not see him again for
months, nor did I ever see the deer. A
long time afterwards he came to my store
to trade, looking as innocent as if he had
never done me a wrong. I immediately
ordered him off) and forbade his coining
to me any more.
“ What for?” said he, looking mightily
taken by surprise.
I answered: “ For lying about that
deer when you were last here. There was
not a word of truth in what you said.”
“White man is mistaken. Did he look
as Injin told him ?”
“ I did.”
“And did not find any pond, as I said
there was?” he asked.
“Pond? Os course I did. 1 knew of
that pond before,” I answered.
“Ah, well, that is one true I told. And
whit® man did not find the poplar ?"
“ Certainly I found it. I knew of that
also before.”
“ -Ah, well, that is two true. And white
man did not find the deer ?”
“No, I did not; there was no deer
there, and had not been.”
“Ah, well, that is one lie. Two true to
one lie! But,” said he, turning to me
with a laugh, « don’t you think that two
true to one lie is pretty good for Injin?”
I am bound, however, to say of the
Coosas that they had some good in them,
as well as much evil. In the first place,
the} T are a very modest people—much
more so than the whites—for in all my
dealings with them for years, I seldom
saw or heard an indecent thing in men
or women, old or young. The men were
brave, and tho women generally correct
in their behavior, j* The mothers, too,
were real mothers ; and it almost won my
heart to them, Coosas though they were,
to see, as I often had seen, mothers pale
with hunger, staggering as they carried
their chubby children, that looked as if
they had never known what hunger was.f
Both men and women, too, were very
hospitable. If ever you went to the door
of their wigwams, you were asked to
come in; and if ever you went in, you
were bound to partake of their sofkee.*
There were seldom any quarrels, and such
as arose were almost always made up at
their green-corn dances, at which time it
was customary for all, and especially for
those who had quarreled, to meet togeth
er and shake hands in their large council
room, where it was too dark to look into
each other's eyes. f
After I had traded long enough among
these Indians to gather a pretty little
property, I lost it all in one day by stand
ing security for a fellow trader. I would
have commenced business again, and gone
on the same way as before, but 1 had no
thing to start with, and, more than this,
I had so offended some of the chiefs that
it was not safe for me to remain in the
nation. I wandered about the country
for some time, and finally, about three
years ago, enlisted in the I nited States
army, hoping to be sent out west. In
stead of this, however, I have been on dif
ferent posts, first in Charleston, then in
Savannah, and now here. My time v\ill
be out next month, and then I shall be a
free man, but somehow I feel very indif
ferent to it, as if my freedom were hardly
worth the having.
That’s my story, with all the useful
things I could think of worth the tolling.
f The passages in this story marked thus, are histori
cal, or rather traditional, being parts of the unwritten
history of the places and parties concerned.
* Sos ke» —hominy made »f peuuded •era.
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