I
THE
STORY OF THE LAST YANA INDIANThe
glory and romance of archery culminated in England before the
discovery of America. There, no doubt, the bow was used to its
greatest perfection, and it decided the fate of nations. The
crossbow
and the matchlock had supplanted the longbow when Columbus sailed
for
the New World.It
was, therefore, a distinct surprise to the first explorers of
America
that the natives used the bow and arrow so effectively. In fact,
the
sword and the horse, combined with the white man's superlative
self-assurance, won the contest over the aborigines more than the
primitive blunderbuss of the times. The bow and arrow was still
more
deadly than the gun.With
the gradual extermination of the American Indian, the westward
march
of civilization, and the improvement in firearms, this contest
became
more and more unequal, and the bow disappeared from the land. The
last primitive Indian archer was discovered in California in the
year
1911.When
the white pioneers of California descended through the northern
part
of that State by the Lassen trail, they met with a tribe of Indians
known as the Yana, or Yahi. That is the name they called
themselves.
Their neighbors called them the Nozi, and the white men called them
the Deer Creek or Mill Creek Indians. Different from the other
tribes
of this territory, the Yana would not submit without a struggle to
the white man's conquest of their lands.The
Yana were hunters and warriors. The usual California natives were
yellow in color, fat and inclined to be peaceable. The Yana were
smaller of stature, lithe, of reddish bronze complexion, and
instead
of being diggers of roots, they lived by the salmon spear and the
bow. Their range extended over an area south of Mount Lassen, east
of
the Sacramento River, for a distance of fifty miles.From
the earliest settlement of the whites, hostilities existed between
them. This resulted in definitely organized expeditions against
these
Indians, and the annual slaughter of hundreds.The
last big round-up of Mill Creek Indians occurred in 1872, when
their
tribe was surprised at its seasonal harvest of acorns. Upon this
occasion a posse of whites killed such a number of natives that it
is
said the creek was damned with dead bodies. An accurate account of
these days may be obtained from Watterman's paper on the Yana
Indians. [Footnote: Vol. 13, No. 2,
Am. Archaeology and Ethnology.]During
one of the final raids upon the Yana, a little band of Indian women
and children hid in a cave. Here they were discovered and murdered
in
cold blood. One of the white scouting party laconically stated that
he used his revolver to blow out their brains because the rifle
spattered up the cave too much.So
it came to pass, that from two or three thousand people, the Yana
were reduced to less than a dozen who escaped extermination. These
were mainly women, old men and children. This tribal remnant sought
the refuge of the impenetrable brush and volcanic rocks of Deer
Creek
Canyon. Here they lived by stealth and cunning. Like wild
creatures,
they kept from sight until the whites quite forgot their
existence.It
became almost a legend that wild Indians lived in the Mount Lassen
district. From time to time ranchers or sheep herders reported that
their flocks had been molested, that signs of Indians had been
found
or that arrowheads were discovered in their sheep. But little
credence was given these rumors until the year 1908, when an
electric
power company undertook to run a survey line across Deer Creek
Canyon
with the object of constructing a dam.One
evening, as a party of linemen stood on a log at the edge of the
deep
swift stream debating the best place to ford, a naked Indian rose
up
before them, giving a savage snarl and brandishing a spear. In an
instant the survey party disbanded, fell from the log, and crossed
the stream in record-breaking time. When they stopped to get their
breath, the Indian had disappeared. This was the first appearance
of
Ishi, [Footnote: Ishi is pronounced "E-she."] the Yana.Next
morning an exploring expedition set out to verify the excited
report
of the night before. The popular opinion was that no such wildman
existed, and that the linemen had been seeing things. One of the
group offered to bet that no signs of Indians would be
found.As
the explorers reached the slide of volcanic boulders where the
apparition of the day before had disappeared, two arrows flew past
them. They made a run for the top of the slide and reached it just
in
time to see two Indians vanish in the brush. They left behind them
an
old white-haired squaw, whom they had been carrying. She was
partially paralyzed, and her legs were bound in swaths of willow
bark, seemingly in an effort to strengthen them.The
old squaw was wrinkled with age, her hair was cropped short as a
sign
of mourning, and she trembled with fear. The white men approached
and
spoke kindly to her in Spanish. But she seemed not to understand
their words, and apparently expected only death, for in the past to
meet a white man was to die. They gave her water to drink, and
tried
to make her call back her companions, but without avail.Further
search disclosed two small brush huts hidden among the laurel
trees.
So cleverly concealed were these structures that one could pass
within a few yards and not discern them. In one of the huts acorns
and dried salmon had been stored; the other was their habitation.
There was a small hearth for indoor cooking; bows, arrows, fishing
tackle, a few aboriginal utensils and a fur robe were found. These
were confiscated in the white man's characteristic manner. They
then
left the place and returned to camp.Next
day the party revisited the site, hoping to find the rest of the
Indians. These, however, had gone forever.Nothing
more was seen or heard of this little band until the year 1911,
when
on the outskirts of Oroville, some thirty-two miles from the Deer
Creek camp, a lone survivor appeared. Early in the morning, brought
to bay by a barking dog, huddled in the corner of a corral, was an
emaciated naked Indian. So strange was his appearance and so
alarmed
was the butcher's boy who found him, that a hasty call for the town
constable brought out an armed force to capture him.Confronted
with guns, pistols, and handcuffs, the poor man was sick with fear.
He was taken to the city jail and locked up for safekeeping. There
he
awaited death. For years he had believed that to fall into the
hands
of white men meant death. All his people had been killed by whites;
no other result could happen. So he waited in fear and trembling.
They brought him food, but he would not eat; water, but he would
not
drink. They asked him questions, but he could not speak. With the
simplicity of the white man, they brought him other Indians of
various tribes, thinking that surely all "Diggers" were the
same. But their language was as strange to him as Chinese or
Greek.And
so they thought him crazy. His hair was burnt short, his feet had
never worn shoes, he had small bits of wood in his nose and ears;
he
neither ate, drank, nor slept. He was indeed wild or insane.By
this time the news of the wild Indian got into the city papers, and
Professor T. T. Watterman, of the Department of Anthropology at the
University of California, was sent to investigate the case. He
journeyed to Oroville and was brought into the presence of this
strange Indian. Having knowledge of many native dialects, Dr.
Watterman tried one after the other on the prisoner. Through good
fortune, some of the Yana vocabulary had been preserved in the
records of the University. Venturing upon this lost language,
Watterman spoke in Yana the words,
Siwini, which means
pine wood, tapping at the same time the edge of the cot on which
they
sat.In
wonderment, the Indian's face lighted with faint recognition.
Watterman repeated the charm, and like a spell the man changed from
a
cowering, trembling savage. A furtive smile came across his face.
He
said in his language,
I nu ma Yaki--"Are
you an Indian?" Watterman assured him that he was.A
great sense of relief entered the situation. Watterman had
discovered
one of the lost tribes of California; Ishi had discovered a
friend.They
clothed him and fed him, and he learned that the white man was
good.Since
no formal charges were lodged against the Indian, and he seemed to
have no objection, Watterman took him to San Francisco, and there,
attached to the Museum of Anthropology, he became a subject of
study
and lived happily for five years. From him it was learned that his
people were all dead. The old woman seen in the Deer Creek episode
was his mother; the old man was his uncle. These died on a long
journey to Mt. Lassen, soon after their discovery. Here he had
burned
their bodies and gone into mourning. The fact that the white men
took
their means of procuring food, as well as their clothing,
contributed, no doubt, to the death of the older people.Half
starved and hopeless, he had wandered into civilization. His
father,
once the chieftain of the Yana tribe, having domain over all the
country immediately south of Mt. Lassen, was long since gone, and
with him all his people. Ranchers and stockmen had usurped their
country, spoiled the fishing, and driven off the game. The acorn
trees of the valleys had been taken from them; nothing remained but
evil spirits in the land of his forefathers.Now,
however, he had found kindly people who fed him, clothed him, and
taught him the mysteries of civilization. When asked his name, he
said: "I have none, because there were no people to name me,"
meaning that no tribal ceremony had been performed. But the old
people had called him Ishi, which means "strong and straight
one," for he was the youth of their camp. He had learned to make
fire with sticks; he knew the lost art of chipping arrowheads from
flint and obsidian; he was the fisherman and the hunter. He knew
nothing of our modern life. He had no name for iron, nor cloth, nor
horse, nor road. He was as primitive as the aborigines of the
pre-Columbian period. In fact, he was a man in the Stone Age. He
was
absolutely untouched by civilization. In him science had a rare
find.
He turned back the pages of history countless centuries. And so
they
studied him, and he studied them.From
him they learned little of his personal history and less of that of
his family, because an Indian considers it unbecoming to speak much
of his own life, and it brings ill luck to speak of the dead. He
could not pronounce the name of his father without calling him from
the land of spirits, and this he could only do for some very
important reason. But he knew the full history of his tribe and
their
destruction.His
apparent age was about forty years, yet he undoubtedly was nearer
sixty. Because of his simple life he was in physical prime,
mentally
alert, and strong in body.He
was about five feet eight inches tall, well proportioned, had
beautiful hands and unspoiled feet.His
features were less aquiline than those of the Plains Indian, yet
strongly marked outlines, high cheek bones, large intelligent eyes,
straight black hair, and fine teeth made him good to look
upon.As
an artisan he was very skilful and ingenious. Accustomed to
primitive
tools of stone and bone, he soon learned to use most expertly the
knife, file, saw, vise, hammer, ax, and other modern
implements.Although
he marveled at many of our inventions and appreciated matches, he
took great pride in his ability to make fire with two sticks of
buckeye. This he could do in less than two minutes by twirling one
on
the other.About
this time I became an instructor in surgery at the University
Medical
School, which is situated next to the Museum. Ishi was employed
here
in a small way as a janitor to teach him modern industry and the
value of money. He was perfectly happy and a great favorite with
everybody.From
his earliest experience with our community life he manifested
little
immunity to disease. He contracted all the epidemic infections with
which he was brought in contact. He lived a very hygienic
existence,
having excellent food and sleeping outdoors, but still he was often
sick. Because of this I came in touch with him as his physician in
the hospital, and soon learned to admire him for the fine qualities
of his nature.Though
very reserved, he was kindly, honest, cleanly, and trustworthy.
More
than this, he had a superior philosophy of life, and a high moral
standard.By
degrees I learned to speak his dialect, and spent many hours in his
company. He told us the folk lore of his tribe. More than forty
myths
or animal stories of his have been recorded and preserved. They are
as interesting as the stories of Uncle Remus. The escapades of
wildcat, the lion, the grizzly bear, the bluejay, the lizard, and
the
coyote are as full of excitement and comedy as any fairy
story.He
knew the history and use of everything in the outdoor world. He
spoke
the language of the animals. He taught me to make bows and arrows,
how to shoot them, and how to hunt, Indian fashion. He was a
wonderful companion in the woods, and many days and nights we
journeyed together.After
he had been with us three years we took him back to his own
country.
But he did not want to stay. He liked the ways of the white man,
and
his own land was full of the spirits of the departed.He
showed us old forgotten camp sites where past chieftains made their
villages. He took us to deer licks and ambushes used by his people
long ago. One day in passing the base of a great rock he scratched
with his toe and dug up the bones of a bear's paw. Here, in years
past, they had killed and roasted a bear. This was the camp
of
Ya mo lo ku. His
own camp was called
Wowomopono Tetna or
bear wallow.We
swam the streams together, hunted deer and small game, and at night
sat under the stars by the camp fire, where in a simple way we
talked
of old heroes, the worlds above us, and his theories of the life to
come in the land of plenty, where the bounding deer and the mighty
bear met the hunter with his strong bow and swift arrows.I
learned to love Ishi as a brother, and he looked upon me as one of
his people. He called me
Ku wi, or Medicine
Man; more, perhaps, because I could perform little sleight of hand
tricks, than because of my profession.But,
in spite of the fact that he was happy and surrounded by the most
advanced material culture, he sickened and died. Unprotected by
hereditary or acquired immunity, he contracted tuberculosis and
faded
away before our eyes. Because he had no natural resistance, he
received no benefit from such hygienic measures as serve to arrest
the disease in the Caucasian. We did everything possible for him,
and
nursed him to the painful bitter end.When
his malady was discovered, plans were made to take him back to the
mountains whence he came and there have him cared for properly. We
hoped that by this return to his natural elements he would recover.
But from the inception of his disease he failed so rapidly that he
was not strong enough to travel.Consumed
with fever and unable to eat nourishing food, he seemed doomed from
the first. After months of misery he suddenly developed a
tremendous
pulmonary hemorrhage. I was with him at the time, directed his
medication, and gently stroked his hand as a small sign of
fellowship
and sympathy. He did not care for marked demonstrations of any
sort.He
was a stoic, unafraid, and died in the faith of his people.As
an Indian should go, so we sent him on his long journey to the land
of shadows. By his side we placed his fire sticks, ten pieces of
dentalia or Indian money, a small bag of acorn meal, a bit of dried
venison, some tobacco, and his bow and arrows.These
were cremated with him and the ashes placed in an earthen jar. On
it
is inscribed "Ishi, the last Yana Indian, 1916."And
so departed the last wild Indian of America. With him the neolithic
epoch terminates. He closes a chapter in history. He looked upon us
as sophisticated children--smart, but not wise. We knew many things
and much that is false. He knew nature, which is always true. His
were the qualities of character that last forever. He was
essentially
kind; he had courage and self-restraint, and though all had been
taken from him, there was no bitterness in his heart. His soul was
that of a child, his mind that of a philosopher.With
him there was no word for good-by. He said: "You stay, I
go."He
has gone and he hunts with his people. We stay, and he has left us
the heritage of the bow.
II
HOW
ISHI MADE HIS BOW AND ARROW AND HIS METHODS OF SHOOTINGAlthough
much has been written in history and fiction concerning the archery
of the North American Indian, strange to say, very little has been
recorded of the methods of manufacture of their weapons, and less
in
accurate records of their shooting.It
is a great privilege to have lived with an unspoiled aborigine and
seen him step by step construct the most perfect type of bow and
arrow.The
workmanship of Ishi was by far the best of any Indian in America;
compared with thousands of specimens in the museum, his arrows were
the most carefully and beautifully made; his bow was the
best.It
would take too much time to go into the minute details of his work,
and this has all been recorded in anthropologic records, [Footnote:
See Yahi Archery,
Vol. 13, No. 3, Am.
Archaeology and Ethnology.]
but the outlines of his methods are as follows:The
bow, Ishi called
man-nee. It was a
short, flat piece of mountain juniper backed with sinew. The length
was forty-two inches, or, as he measured it, from the horizontally
extended hand to the opposite hip. It was broadest at the center of
each limb, approximately two inches, and half an inch thick. The
cross-section of this part was elliptical. At the center of the bow
the handgrip was about an inch and a quarter wide by three-quarters
thick, a cross-section being ovoid. At the tips it was curved
gently
backward and measured at the nocks three-quarters by one-half an
inch. The nock itself was square shouldered and terminated in a pin
half an inch in diameter and an inch long.The
wood was obtained by splitting a limb from a tree and utilizing the
outer layers, including the sap wood. By scraping and rubbing on
sandstone, he shaped and finished it. The recurved tips of the bow
he
made by bending the wood backward over a heated stone. Held in
shape
by cords and binding to another piece of wood, he let his bow
season
in a dark, dry place. Here it remained from a few months to years,
according to his needs. After being seasoned he backed it with
sinew.
First he made a glue by boiling salmon skin and applying it to the
roughened back of the bow. When it was dry he laid on long strips
of
deer sinew obtained from the leg tendons. By chewing these tendons
and separating their fibers, they became soft and adhesive.
Carefully
overlapping the ends of the numerous fibers he covered the entire
back very thickly. At the nocks he surrounded the wood completely
and
added a circular binding about the bow.During
the process of drying he bound the sinew tightly to the bow with
long, thin strips of willow bark. After several days he removed
this
bandage and smoothed off the edges of the dry sinew, sized the
surface with more glue and rubbed everything smooth with sandstone.
Then he bound the handgrip for a space of four inches with a narrow
buckskin thong.In
his native state he seems never to have greased his bow nor
protected
it from moisture, except by his bow case, which was made of the
skin
from a cougar's tail. But while with us he used shellac to protect
the glue and wood. Other savages use buck fat or bear
grease.The
bowstring he made of the finer tendons from the deer's shank. These
he chewed until soft, then twisted them tightly into a cord having
a
permanent loop at one end and a buckskin strand at the other. While
wet the string was tied between two twigs and rubbed smooth with
spittle. Its diameter was one-eighth of an inch, its length about
forty-eight inches. When dry the loop was applied to the upper nock
of his bow while he bent the bow over his knee and wound the
opposite
end of the string about the lower nock. The buckskin thong
terminating this portion of the string made it easier to tie in
several half hitches.When
braced properly the bowstring was about five inches from the belly
of
the bow. And when not in use and unstrung the upper loop was
slipped
entirely off the nock, but held from falling away from the bow by a
second small loop of buckskin.Drawn
to the full length of an arrow, which was about twenty-six inches,
exclusive of the foreshaft, his bow bent in a perfect arc slightly
flattened at the handle. Its pull was about forty-five pounds, and
it
could shoot an arrow about two hundred yards.This
is not the most powerful type of weapon known to Indians, and even
Ishi did make stronger bows when he pleased; but this seemed to be
the ideal weight for hunting, and it certainly was adequate in his
hands.According
to English standards, it was very short; but for hunting in the
brush
and shooting from crouched postures, it seems better fitted for the
work than a longer weapon.According
to Ishi, a bow left strung or standing in an upright position, gets
tired and sweats. When not in use it should be lying down; no one
should step over it; no child should handle it, and no woman should
touch it. This brings bad luck and makes it shoot crooked. To
expunge
such an influence it is necessary to wash the bow in sand and
water.In
his judgment, a good bow made a musical note when strung and the
string is tapped with the arrow. This was man's first harp, the
great
grandfather of the pianoforte.By
placing one end of his bow at the corner of his open mouth and
tapping the string with an arrow, the Yana could make sweet music.
It
sounded like an Aeolian harp. To this accompaniment Ishi sang a
folk-song telling of a great warrior whose bow was so strong that,
dipping his arrow first in fire, then in the ocean, he shot at the
sun. As swift as the wind, his arrow flew straight in the round
open
door of the sun and put out its light. Darkness fell upon the earth
and men shivered with cold. To prevent themselves from freezing
they
grew feathers, and thus our brothers, the birds, were born.Ishi
called an arrow sa
wa.In
making arrows the first thing is to get the shafts. Ishi used many
woods, but he preferred witch hazel. The long, straight stems of
this
shrub he cut in lengths of thirty-two inches, having a diameter of
three-eighths of an inch at the base when peeled of bark.He
bound a number of these together and put them away in a shady place
to dry. After a week or more, preferably several months, he
selected
the best shafts and straightened them. This he accomplished by
holding the concave surface near a small heap of hot embers and
when
warm he either pressed his great toe on the opposite side, or he
bent
the wood backward on the base of the thumb. Squinting down its axis
he lined up the uneven contours one after the other and laid the
shaft aside until a series of five was completed. He made up arrows
in lots of five or ten, according to the requirements, his fingers
being the measure.The
sticks thus straightened he ran back and forth between two grooved
pieces of sandstone or revolved them on his thigh while holding the
stones in his hand, until they were smooth and reduced to a
diameter
of about five-sixteenths of an inch. Next they were cut into
lengths
of approximately twenty-six inches. The larger end was now bound
with
a buckskin thong and drilled out for the depth of an inch and a
half
to receive the end of the foreshaft. He drilled this hole by fixing
a
long, sharp bone in the ground between his great toes and revolved
the upright shaft between his palms on this fixed point, the
buckskin
binding keeping the wood from splitting.The
foreshaft was made of heavier wood, frequently mountain mahogany.
It
was the same diameter as the arrow, only tapering a trifle toward
the
front end, and usually was about six inches long. This was
carefully
shaped into a spindle at the larger end and set in the recently
drilled hole of the shaft, using glue or resin for this purpose.
The
joint was bound with chewed sinew, set in glue.The
length of an arrow, over all, was estimated by Ishi in this manner.
He placed one end on the top of his breast-bone and held the other
end out in his extended left hand. Where it touched the tip of his
forefinger it was cut as the proper length. This was about
thirty-two
inches.The
rear end of his arrow was now notched to receive the bowstring. He
filed it with a bit of obsidian, or later on, with three hacksaw
blades bound together until he made a groove one-eighth of an inch
wide by three-eighths deep. The opposite end of the shaft was
notched
in a similar way to receive the head. The direction of this latter
cut was such that when the arrow was on the bow the edge of the
arrowhead was perpendicular, for the fancied reason that in this
position the arrow when shot enters between the ribs of an animal
more readily. He did not seem to recognize that an arrow
rotates.At
this stage he painted his shafts. The pigments used in the wilds
were
red cinnabar, black pigment from the eye of trout, a green
vegetable
dye from wild onions, and a blue obtained, he said, from the root
of
a plant. These were mixed with the sap or resin of trees and
applied
with a little stick or hairs from a fox's tail drawn through a
quill.His
usual design was a series of alternating rings of green and black
starting two inches from the rear end and running four inches up
the
shaft. Or he made small circular dots and snaky lines running down
the shaft for a similar distance. When with us he used dry colors
mixed with shellac, which he preferred to oil paints because they
dried quicker. The painted area, intended for the feathers, is
called
the shaftment and not only helps in finding lost arrows, but
identifies the owner. This entire portion he usually smeared with
thin glue or sizing.A
number of shafts having been similarly prepared, the Indian was
ready
to feather them. A feather he called
pu nee. In fledging
arrows Ishi used eagle, buzzard, hawk or flicker feathers. Owl
feathers Indians seem to avoid, thinking they bring bad luck. By
preference he took them from the wings, but did not hesitate to use
tail feathers if reduced to it. With us he used turkey
pinions.Grasping
one between the heel of his two palms he carefully separated the
bristles at the tip of the feather with his fingers and pulled them
apart, splitting the quill its entire length. This is called
stripping a feather. Taking the wider half he firmly held one end
on
a rock with his great toe, and the other end between the thumb and
forefinger of his left hand. With a piece of obsidian, or later on
a
knife blade, he scraped away the pith until the rib was thin and
flat.Having
prepared a sufficient number in this way he gathered them in groups
of three, all from similar wings, tied them with a bit of string
and
dropped them in a vessel of water. When thoroughly wet and limp
they
were ready for use.While
he chewed up a strand of sinew eight or ten inches long, he picked
up
a group of feathers, stripped off the water, removed one, and after
testing its strength, folded the last two inches of bristles down
on
the rib, and the rest he ruffled backward, thus leaving a free
space
for later binding. He prepared all three like this.Picking
up an arrow shaft he clamped it between his left arm and chest,
holding the rear end above the shaftment in his left hand. Twirling
it slowly in this position, he applied one end of the sinew near
the
nock, fixing it by overlapping. The first movements were
accomplished
while holding one extremity of the sinew in his teeth; later,
having
applied the feathers to the stick, he shifted the sinew to the
grasp
of the right thumb and forefinger.One
by one he laid the feathers in position, binding down the last two
inches of stem and the wet barbs together. The first feather he
applied on a line perpendicular to the plane of the nock; the two
others were equidistant from this. For the space of an inch he
lapped
the sinew about the feathers and arrow-shaft, slowly rotating it
all
the while, at last smoothing the binding with his thumb
nail.The
rear ends having been lashed in position, the arrow was set aside
to
dry while the rest were prepared.Five
or ten having reached this stage and the binding being dry and
secure, he took one again between his left arm and chest, and with
his right hand drew all the feathers straight and taut, down the
shaft. Here he held them with the fingers of his left hand. Having
marked a similar place on each arrow where the sinew was to go, he
cut the bristles off the rib. At this point he started binding with
another piece of wet sinew. After a few turns he drew the feathers
taut again and cut them, leaving about a half inch of rib. This he
bound down completely to the arrow-shaft and finished all by
smoothing the wet lapping with his thumb nail.The
space between the rib and the wood he sometimes smeared with more
glue to cause the feather to adhere to the shaft, but this was not
the usual custom with him. After all was dry and firm, Ishi took
the
arrow and beat it gently across his palm so that the feathers
spread
out nicely.As
a rule the length of his feathers was four inches, though on
ceremonial arrows they often were as long as eight inches.After
drying, the feathers were cut with a sharp piece of obsidian, using
a
straight stick as a guide and laying the arrow on a flat piece of
wood. When with us he trimmed them with scissors, making a straight
cut from the full width of the feather in back, to the height of a
quarter of an inch at the forward extremity. On his arrows he left
the natural curve of the feather at the nock, and while the rear
binding started an inch or more from the butt of the arrow, the
feather drooped over the nock. This gave a pretty effect and seemed
to add to the steering qualities of the missile.Two
kinds of points were used on Ishi's arrows. One was the simple
blunt
end of the shaft bound with sinew used for killing small game and
practice shots. The other was his hunting head, made of flint or
obsidian. He preferred the latter.Obsidian
was used as money among the natives of California. A boulder of
this
volcanic glass was packed from some mountainous districts and
pieces
were cracked off and exchanged for dried fish, venison, or weapons.
It was a medium of barter. Although all men were more or less
expert
in flaking arrowheads and knives, the better grades of bows,
arrows,
and arrow points were made by the older, more expert specialists of
the tribe.Ishi
often referred to one old Indian, named
Chu no wa yahi, who
lived at the base of a great cliff with his crazy wife. This man
owned an ax, and thus was famous for his possessions as well as his
skill as a maker of bows. From a distant mountain crest one day
Ishi
pointed out to me the camp of this Indian who was long since dead.
If
ever Ishi wished to refer to a hero of the bow, or having been
beaten
in a shot, he always told us what
Chu no wa yahi
could have done.To
make arrowheads properly one should smear his face with mud and sit
out in the hot sun in a quiet secluded spot. The mud is a
precaution
against harm from the flying chips of glass, possibly also a good
luck ritual. If by chance a bit of glass should fly in the eye,
Ishi's method of surgical relief was to hold his lower lid wide
open
with one finger while he slapped himself violently on the head with
the other hand. I am inclined to ascribe the process of removal
more
to the hydraulic effect of the tears thus started than to the
mechanical jar of the treatment.He
began this work by taking one chunk of obsidian and throwing it
against another; several small pieces were thus shattered off. One
of
these, approximately three inches long, two inches wide and half an
inch thick, was selected as suitable for an arrowhead, or
haka. Protecting
the palm of his left hand by a piece of thick buckskin, Ishi placed
a
piece of obsidian flat upon it, holding it firmly with his fingers
folded over it.In
his right hand he held a short stick on the end of which was lashed
a
sharp piece of deer horn. Grasping the horn firmly while the longer
extremity lay beneath his forearm, he pressed the point of the horn
against the edge of the obsidian. Without jar or blow, a flake of
glass flew off, as large as a fish scale. Repeating this process at
various spots on the intended head, turning it from side to side,
first reducing one face, then the other, he soon had a symmetrical
point. In half an hour he could make the most graceful and
perfectly
proportioned arrowhead imaginable. The little notches fashioned to
hold the sinew binding below the barbs he shaped with a smaller
piece
of bone, while the arrowhead was held on the ball of his
thumb.Flint,
plate glass, old bottle glass, onyx--all could be worked with equal
facility. Beautiful heads were fashioned from blue bottles and beer
bottles.The
general size of these points was two inches for length,
seven-eighths
for width, and one-eighth for thickness. Larger heads were used for
war and smaller ones for shooting bears.Such
a head, of course, was easily broken if the archer missed his shot.
This made him very careful about the whole affair of
shooting.When
ready for use, these heads were set on the end of the shaft with
heated resin and bound in place with sinew which encircled the end
of
the arrow and crossed diagonally through the barb notches with many
recurrences.Such
a point has better cutting qualities in animal tissue than has
steel.
The latter is, of course, more durable. After entering
civilization,
Ishi preferred to use iron or steel blades of the same general
shape,
or having a short tang for insertion in the arrowhead.Ishi
carried anywhere from five to sixty arrows in a quiver made of
otter
skin which hung suspended by a loop of buckskin over his left
shoulder.His
method of bracing or stringing the bow was as follows: Grasping it
with his right hand at its center, with the belly toward him, and
the
lower end on his right thigh, he held the upper end with his left
hand while the loop of the string rested between his finger and
thumb. By pressing downward at the handle and pulling upward with
the
left hand he so sprung the bow that the loop of the cord could be
slipped over the upper nock.In
nocking his arrow, the bow was held diagonally across the body, its
upper end pointing to the left. It was held lightly in the palm of
the left hand so that it rested loosely in the notch of the thumb
while the fingers partially surrounded the handle. Taking an arrow
from his quiver, he laid it across the bow on its right side where
it
lay between the extended fingers of his left hand. He gently slid
the
arrow forward until the nock slipped over the string at its center.
Here he set it properly in place and put his right thumb under the
string, hooked upward ready to pull. At the same time he flexed his
forefinger against the side of the arrow, and the second finger was
placed on the thumb nail to strengthen the pull.Thus
he accomplished what is known as the Mongolian release.Only
a few nations ever used this type of arrow release, and the Yana
seem
to have been the only American natives to do so. [Footnote: See
Morse
on Arrow Release.]To
draw his bow he extended his left arm. At the same time he pulled
his
right hand toward him. The bow arm was almost in front of him,
while
his right hand drew to the top of his breast bone. With both eyes
open he sighted along his shaft and estimated the elevation
according
to the distance to be shot.He
released firmly and without change of position until the arrow hit.
He preferred to shoot kneeling or squatting, for this was most
favorable for getting game.His
shooting distances were from ten yards up to fifty. Past this range
he did not think one should shoot, but sought rather to approach
his
game more closely.In
his native state he practiced shooting at little oak balls, or
bundles of grass bound to represent rabbits, or little hoops of
willow rolled along the ground. Like all other archers, if Ishi
missed a shot he always had a good excuse. There was too much wind,
or the arrow was crooked, or the bow had lost its cast, or, as a
last
resource, the coyote doctor bewitched him, which is the same thing
we
mean when we say it is just bad luck. While with us he shot at the
regulation straw target, and he is the first and only Indian of
whose
shooting any accurate records have been made.Many
exaggerated reports exist concerning the accuracy of the shooting
of
American Indians; but here we have one who shot ever since
childhood,
who lived by hunting, and must have been as good, if not better,
than
the average.He
taught us to shoot Indian style at first, but later we learned the
old English methods and found them superior to the Indian. At the
end
of three months' practice, Dr. J. V. Cooke and I could shoot as
well
as Ishi at targets, but he could surpass us at game
shooting.Ishi
never thought very much of our long bows. He always said, "Too
much man-nee."
And he always insisted that arrows should be painted red and
green.But
when we began beating him at targets, he took all his shafts home
and
scraped the paint off them, putting back rings of blue and yellow,
doubtless to change his luck. In spite of our apparent superiority
at
some forms of shooting, he never changed his methods to meet
competition. We, of course, did not want him to.Small
objects the size of a quail the Indian could hit with regularity up
to twenty yards. And I have seen him kill ground squirrels at forty
yards; yet at the same distances he might miss a four-foot target.
He
explained this by saying that the target was too large and the
bright
colored rings diverted the attention. He was right.There
is a regular system of shooting in archery competition. In America
there is what is known as the American Round, which consists of
shooting thirty arrows at each of the following distances: sixty,
fifty, and forty yards. The bull's-eye on the target is a trifle
over
nine inches and is surrounded by four rings of half this diameter.
Their value is 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, successively counting from the center
outward. The target itself is constructed of straw, bound in the
form
of a mat four feet in diameter, covered with a canvas
facing.Counting
the hits and scores on the various distances, a good archer will
make
the following record. Here is Arthur Young's best score:March
25, 1917.At
60 yards 30 hits
190 score 11 golds
50 yards 30 hits
198 score 9 golds
40 yards 30 hits
238 score 17 goldsTotal
90 hits 626 score 37 goldsThis
is one of the best scores made by American archers.Ishi's
best record is as follows:October
23, 1914.At
60 yards 10 hits
32 score
50 yards 20 hits
92 score 2 golds
40 yards 19 hits
99 score 2 goldsTotal
49 hits 223 score 4 goldsHis
next best score was this:At
60 yards 13 hits
51 score
50 yards 17 hits
59 score
40 yards 22 hits
95 scoreTotal
52 hits 205 scoreMy
own best practice American round is as follows:May
22, 1917.At
60 yards 29 hits
157 score
50 yards 29 hits
185 score
40 yards 30 hits
196 scoreTotal
88 hits 538 scoreAnything
over 500 is considered good shooting.It
will be seen from this that the Indian was not a good target shot,
but in field shooting and getting game, probably he could excel the
white man.