THE OREGON TRAIL

by Francis Parkman, Jr. 

CONTENTS

I THE FRONTIER

II BREAKING THE ICE

III FORT LEAVENWORTH

IV "JUMPING OFF"

V "THE BIG BLUE"

VI THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT

VII THE BUFFALO

VIII TAKING FRENCH LEAVE

IX SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE

X THE WAR PARTIES

XI SCENES AT THE CAMP

XII ILL LUCK

XIII HUNTING INDIANS

XIV THE OGALLALLA VILLAGR

XV THE HUNTING CAMP

XVI THE TRAPPERS

XVII THE BLACK HILLS

XVIII A MOUNTAIN HUNT

XIX PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS

XX THE LONELY JOURNEY

XXI THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT

XXII TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER

XXIII INDIAN ALARMS

XXIV THE CHASE

XXV THE BUFFALO CAMP

XXVI DOWN THE ARKANSAS

XXVII THE SETTLEMENTS

CHAPTER I

THE FRONTIER

Last spring, 1846, was a busy season in the City of St. Louis. Not onlywere emigrants from every part of the country preparing for the journeyto Oregon and California, but an unusual number of traders were makingready their wagons and outfits for Santa Fe. Many of the emigrants, especially of those bound for California, were persons of wealth andstanding. The hotels were crowded, and the gunsmiths and saddlerswere kept constantly at work in providing arms and equipments for thedifferent parties of travelers. Almost every day steamboats were leavingthe levee and passing up the Missouri, crowded with passengers on theirway to the frontier. 

In one of these, the Radnor, since snagged and lost, my friend andrelative, Quincy A. Shaw, and myself, left St. Louis on the 28th ofApril, on a tour of curiosity and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. Theboat was loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. Herupper deck was covered with large weapons of a peculiar form, forthe Santa Fe trade, and her hold was crammed with goods for the samedestination. There were also the equipments and provisions of a partyof Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of saddles andharness, and a multitude of nondescript articles, indispensable onthe prairies. Almost hidden in this medley one might have seen a smallFrench cart, of the sort very appropriately called a "mule-killer"beyond the frontiers, and not far distant a tent, together with amiscellaneous assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole equipage wasfar from prepossessing in its appearance; yet, such as it was, it wasdestined to a long and arduous journey, on which the persevering readerwill accompany it. 

The passengers on board the Radnor corresponded with her freight. In hercabin were Santa Fe traders, gamblers, speculators, and adventurersof various descriptions, and her steerage was crowded with Oregonemigrants, "mountain men, " negroes, and a party of Kansas Indians, whohad been on a visit to St. Louis. 

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven or eight days againstthe rapid current of the Missouri, grating upon snags, and hanging fortwo or three hours at a time upon sand-bars. We entered the mouth ofthe Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon became clear, and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, with its eddies, itssand-bars, its ragged islands, and forest-covered shores. The Missouriis constantly changing its course; wearing away its banks on oneside, while it forms new ones on the other. Its channel is shiftingcontinually. Islands are formed, and then washed away; and while the oldforests on one side are undermined and swept off, a young growth springsup from the new soil upon the other. With all these changes, the wateris so charged with mud and sand that it is perfectly opaque, and ina few minutes deposits a sediment an inch thick in the bottom of atumbler. The river was now high; but when we descended in the autumnit was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its treacherous shallowswere exposed to view. It was frightful to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a military abatis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and allpointing down stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat that at highwater should pass over that dangerous ground. 

In five or six days we began to see signs of the great western movementthat was then taking place. Parties of emigrants, with their tents andwagons, would be encamped on open spots near the bank, on their way tothe common rendezvous at Independence. On a rainy day, near sunset, wereached the landing of this place, which is situated some miles fromthe river, on the extreme frontier of Missouri. The scene wascharacteristic, for here were represented at one view the mostremarkable features of this wild and enterprising region. On the muddyshore stood some thirty or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazingstupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They were attached to one ofthe Santa Fe companies, whose wagons were crowded together on the banksabove. In the midst of these, crouching over a smoldering fire, was agroup of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. One or two Frenchhunters from the mountains with their long hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at the boat; and seated on a log close at hand were threemen, with rifles lying across their knees. The foremost of these, atall, strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelligentface, might very well represent that race of restless and intrepidpioneers whose axes and rifles have opened a path from the Allegheniesto the western prairies. He was on his way to Oregon, probably a morecongenial field to him than any that now remained on this side the greatplains. 

Early on the next morning we reached Kansas, about five hundredmiles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here we landed and leaving ourequipments in charge of my good friend Colonel Chick, whose log-housewas the substitute for a tavern, we set out in a wagon for Westport, where we hoped to procure mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning. The rich andluxuriant woods through which the miserable road conducted us werelighted by the bright sunshine and enlivened by a multitude of birds. Weovertook on the way our late fellow-travelers, the Kansas Indians, who, adorned with all their finery, were proceeding homeward at a round pace;and whatever they might have seemed on board the boat, they made a verystriking and picturesque feature in the forest landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggy ponies were tied bydozens along the houses and fences. Sacs and Foxes, with shaved headsand painted faces, Shawanoes and Delawares, fluttering in calico frocks, and turbans, Wyandottes dressed like white men, and a few wretchedKansas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling about the streets, orlounging in and out of the shops and houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remarkable looking personcoming up the street. He had a ruddy face, garnished with the stumps ofa bristly red beard and mustache; on one side of his head was a roundcap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish laborers sometimes wear;his coat was of a nondescript form, and made of a gray Scotch plaid, with the fringes hanging all about it; he wore pantaloons of coarsehomespun, and hob-nailed shoes; and to complete his equipment, a littleblack pipe was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In this curious attire, I recognized Captain C. Of the British army, who, with his brother, andMr. R. , an English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition acrossthe continent. I had seen the captain and his companions at St. Louis. They had now been for some time at Westport, making preparations fortheir departure, and waiting for a re-enforcement, since they were toofew in number to attempt it alone. They might, it is true, have joinedsome of the parties of emigrants who were on the point of setting outfor Oregon and California; but they professed great disinclination tohave any connection with the "Kentucky fellows. "

The captain now urged it upon us, that we should join forces and proceedto the mountains in company. Feeling no greater partiality for thesociety of the emigrants than they did, we thought the arrangement anadvantageous one, and consented to it. Our future fellow-travelers hadinstalled themselves in a little log-house, where we found them allsurrounded by saddles, harness, guns, pistols, telescopes, knives, andin short their complete appointments for the prairie. R. , who professeda taste for natural history, sat at a table stuffing a woodpecker; thebrother of the captain, who was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-ropeon the floor, as he had been an amateur sailor. The captain pointedout, with much complacency, the different articles of their outfit. "Yousee, " said he, "that we are all old travelers. I am convinced that noparty ever went upon the prairie better provided. " The hunter whom theyhad employed, a surly looking Canadian, named Sorel, and their muleteer, an American from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. In alittle log stable close at hand were their horses and mules, selected bythe captain, who was an excellent judge. 

The alliance entered into, we left them to complete their arrangements, while we pushed our own to all convenient speed. The emigrants for whomour friends professed such contempt were encamped on the prairie abouteight or ten miles distant, to the number of a thousand or more, and newparties were constantly passing out from Independence to join them. They were in great confusion, holding meetings, passing resolutions, anddrawing up regulations, but unable to unite in the choice of leaders toconduct them across the prairie. Being at leisure one day, I rode overto Independence. The town was crowded. A multitude of shops had sprungup to furnish the emigrants and Santa Fe traders with necessaries fortheir journey; and there was an incessant hammering and banging from adozen blacksmiths' sheds, where the heavy wagons were being repaired, and the horses and oxen shod. The streets were thronged with men, horses, and mules. While I was in the town, a train of emigrant wagonsfrom Illinois passed through, to join the camp on the prairie, andstopped in the principal street. A multitude of healthy children's faceswere peeping out from under the covers of the wagons. Here and there abuxom damsel was seated on horseback, holding over her sunburnt face anold umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy enough but now miserably faded. The men, very sober-looking countrymen, stood about their oxen; and as Ipassed I noticed three old fellows, who, with their long whips in theirhands, were zealously discussing the doctrine of regeneration. Theemigrants, however, are not all of this stamp. Among them are some ofthe vilest outcasts in the country. I have often perplexed myself todivine the various motives that give impulse to this strange migration;but whatever they may be, whether an insane hope of a better conditionin life, or a desire of shaking off restraints of law and society, ormere restlessness, certain it is that multitudes bitterly repent thejourney, and after they have reached the land of promise are happyenough to escape from it. 

In the course of seven or eight days we had brought our preparationsnear to a close. Meanwhile our friends had completed theirs, andbecoming tired of Westport, they told us that they would set out inadvance and wait at the crossing of the Kansas till we should come up. Accordingly R. And the muleteers went forward with the wagon and tent, while the captain and his brother, together with Sorel, and a trappernamed Boisverd, who had joined them, followed with the band of horses. The commencement of the journey was ominous, for the captain wasscarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in state at the head of hisparty, leading his intended buffalo horse by a rope, when a tremendousthunderstorm came on, and drenched them all to the skin. They hurried onto reach the place, about seven miles off, where R. Was to have had thecamp in readiness to receive them. But this prudent person, when hesaw the storm approaching, had selected a sheltered glade in the woods, where he pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable cup of coffee, while the captain galloped for miles beyond through the rain to lookfor him. At length the storm cleared away, and the sharp-eyed trappersucceeded in discovering his tent: R. Had by this time finished hiscoffee, and was seated on a buffalo robe smoking his pipe. The captainwas one of the most easy-tempered men in existence, so he bore hisill-luck with great composure, shared the dregs of the coffee with hisbrother, and lay down to sleep in his wet clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were leading a pair ofmules to Kansas when the storm broke. Such sharp and incessant flashesof lightning, such stunning and continuous thunder, I have never knownbefore. The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal sheets ofrain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in spray from the ground; andthe streams rose so rapidly that we could hardly ford them. At length, looming through the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, whoreceived us with his usual bland hospitality; while his wife, who, though a little soured and stiffened by too frequent attendance oncamp-meetings, was not behind him in hospitable feeling, supplied uswith the means of repairing our drenched and bedraggled condition. Thestorm, clearing away at about sunset, opened a noble prospect from theporch of the colonel's house, which stands upon a high hill. The sunstreamed from the breaking clouds upon the swift and angry Missouri, andon the immense expanse of luxuriant forest that stretched from its banksback to the distant bluffs. 

Returning on the next day to Westport, we received a message from thecaptain, who had ridden back to deliver it in person, but finding thatwe were in Kansas, had intrusted it with an acquaintance of his namedVogel, who kept a small grocery and liquor shop. Whisky by the waycirculates more freely in Westport than is altogether safe in a placewhere every man carries a loaded pistol in his pocket. As we passed thisestablishment, we saw Vogel's broad German face and knavish-looking eyesthrust from his door. He said he had something to tell us, andinvited us to take a dram. Neither his liquor nor his message was verypalatable. The captain had returned to give us notice that R. , whoassumed the direction of his party, had determined upon another routefrom that agreed upon between us; and instead of taking the course ofthe traders, to pass northward by Fort Leavenworth, and follow the pathmarked out by the dragoons in their expedition of last summer. To adoptsuch a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a very high-handedproceeding; but suppressing our dissatisfaction as well as we could, wemade up our minds to join them at Fort Leavenworth, where they were towait for us. 

Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, we attempted one finemorning to commence our journey. The first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our animals put in harness, than the shaft mule rearedand plunged, burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart intothe Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we exchanged herfor another, with which we were furnished by our friend Mr. Boone ofWestport, a grandson of Daniel Boone, the pioneer. This foretaste ofprairie experience was very soon followed by another. Westport wasscarcely out of sight, when we encountered a deep muddy gully, of aspecies that afterward became but too familiar to us; and here for thespace of an hour or more the car stuck fast. 

CHAPTER II

BREAKING THE ICE

Both Shaw and myself were tolerably inured to the vicissitudes oftraveling. We had experienced them under various forms, and a birchcanoe was as familiar to us as a steamboat. The restlessness, the loveof wilds and hatred of cities, natural perhaps in early years to everyunperverted son of Adam, was not our only motive for undertaking thepresent journey. My companion hoped to shake off the effects of adisorder that had impaired a constitution originally hardy and robust;and I was anxious to pursue some inquiries relative to the character andusages of the remote Indian nations, being already familiar with many ofthe border tribes. 

Emerging from the mud-hole where we last took leave of the reader, wepursued our way for some time along the narrow track, in the checkeredsunshine and shadow of the woods, till at length, issuing forth intothe broad light, we left behind us the farthest outskirts of that greatforest, that once spread unbroken from the western plains to the shoreof the Atlantic. Looking over an intervening belt of shrubbery, we sawthe green, oceanlike expanse of prairie, stretching swell over swell tothe horizon. 

It was a mild, calm spring day; a day when one is more disposed tomusing and reverie than to action, and the softest part of his nature isapt to gain the ascendency. I rode in advance of the party, as we passedthrough the shrubbery, and as a nook of green grass offered a strongtemptation, I dismounted and lay down there. All the trees and saplingswere in flower, or budding into fresh leaf; the red clusters of themaple-blossoms and the rich flowers of the Indian apple were there inprofusion; and I was half inclined to regret leaving behind the land ofgardens for the rude and stern scenes of the prairie and the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight from out of the bushes. Foremost rodeHenry Chatillon, our guide and hunter, a fine athletic figure, mountedon a hardy gray Wyandotte pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broadhat of felt, moccasins, and pantaloons of deerskin, ornamented along theseams with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck in his belt; hisbullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his side, and his rifle lay beforehim, resting against the high pommel of his saddle, which, like all hisequipments, had seen hard service, and was much the worse for wear. Shawfollowed close, mounted on a little sorrel horse, and leading a largeranimal by a rope. His outfit, which resembled mine, had been providedwith a view to use rather than ornament. It consisted of a plain, blackSpanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pistols, a blanket rolled upbehind it, and the trail-rope attached to his horse's neck hangingcoiled in front. He carried a double-barreled smooth-bore, while Iboasted a rifle of some fifteen pounds' weight. At that time our attire, though far from elegant, bore some marks of civilization, and offered avery favorable contrast to the inimitable shabbiness of our appearanceon the return journey. A red flannel shirt, belted around the waist likea frock, then constituted our upper garment; moccasins had supplantedour failing boots; and the remaining essential portion of our attireconsisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured by a squaw out ofsmoked buckskin. Our muleteer, Delorier, brought up the rear with hiscart, waddling ankle-deep in the mud, alternately puffing at his pipe, and ejaculating in his prairie patois: "Sacre enfant de garce!" asone of the mules would seem to recoil before some abyss of unusualprofundity. The cart was of the kind that one may see by scores aroundthe market-place in Montreal, and had a white covering to protect thearticles within. These were our provisions and a tent, with ammunition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. 

We were in all four men with eight animals; for besides the spare horsesled by Shaw and myself, an additional mule was driven along with us as areserve in case of accident. 

After this summing up of our forces, it may not be amiss to glance atthe characters of the two men who accompanied us. 

Delorier was a Canadian, with all the characteristics of the true JeanBaptiste. Neither fatigue, exposure, nor hard labor could ever impairhis cheerfulness and gayety, or his obsequious politeness to hisbourgeois; and when night came he would sit down by the fire, smoke hispipe, and tell stories with the utmost contentment. In fact, the prairiewas his congenial element. Henry Chatillon was of a different stamp. When we were at St. Louis, several gentlemen of the Fur Company hadkindly offered to procure for us a hunter and guide suited for ourpurposes, and on coming one afternoon to the office, we found there atall and exceedingly well-dressed man with a face so open and frank thatit attracted our notice at once. We were surprised at being told that itwas he who wished to guide us to the mountains. He was born in a littleFrench town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen years had beenconstantly in the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains, employed for themost part by the Company to supply their forts with buffalo meat. As ahunter he had but one rival in the whole region, a man named Cimoneau, with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was on terms of the closestfriendship. He had arrived at St. Louis the day before, from themountains, where he had remained for four years; and he now only askedto go and spend a day with his mother before setting out on anotherexpedition. His age was about thirty; he was six feet high, and verypowerfully and gracefully molded. The prairies had been his school;he could neither read nor write, but he had a natural refinement anddelicacy of mind such as is rarely found, even in women. His manly facewas a perfect mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of heart;he had, moreover, a keen perception of character and a tact that wouldpreserve him from flagrant error in any society. Henry had not therestless energy of an Anglo-American. He was content to take thingsas he found them; and his chief fault arose from an excess of easygenerosity, impelling him to give away too profusely ever to thrive inthe world. Yet it was commonly remarked of him, that whatever he mightchoose to do with what belonged to himself, the property of others wasalways safe in his hands. His bravery was as much celebrated in themountains as his skill in hunting; but it is characteristic of him thatin a country where the rifle is the chief arbiter between man and man, Henry was very seldom involved in quarrels. Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good-nature had been mistaken and presumed upon, but theconsequences of the error were so formidable that no one was ever knownto repeat it. No better evidence of the intrepidity of his temper couldbe wished than the common report that he had killed more than thirtygrizzly bears. He was a proof of what unaided nature will sometimes do. I have never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man than mynoble and true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly upon the broadprairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed us, riding his little shaggypony at a "lope"; his calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gayhandkerchief bound around his snaky hair fluttering in the wind. At noonwe stopped to rest not far from a little creek replete with frogs andyoung turtles. There had been an Indian encampment at the place, andthe framework of their lodges still remained, enabling us very easilyto gain a shelter from the sun, by merely spreading one or two blanketsover them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our saddles, and Shaw for the firsttime lighted his favorite Indian pipe; while Delorier was squatted overa hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand, and holding a littlestick in the other, with which he regulated the hissing contents of thefrying-pan. The horses were turned to feed among the scattered bushes ofa low oozy meadow. A drowzy springlike sultriness pervaded the air, andthe voices of ten thousand young frogs and insects, just awakened intolife, rose in varied chorus from the creek and the meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. This was an oldKansas Indian; a man of distinction, if one might judge from his dress. His head was shaved and painted red, and from the tuft of hair remainingon the crown dangled several eagles' feathers, and the tails of two orthree rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were daubed with vermilion; hisears were adorned with green glass pendants; a collar of grizzly bears'claws surrounded his neck, and several large necklaces of wampum hungon his breast. Having shaken us by the hand with a cordial grunt ofsalutation, the old man, dropping his red blanket from his shoulders, sat down cross-legged on the ground. In the absence of liquor we offeredhim a cup of sweetened water, at which he ejaculated "Good!" and wasbeginning to tell us how great a man he was, and how many Pawnees hehad killed, when suddenly a motley concourse appeared wading across thecreek toward us. They filed past in rapid succession, men, women, andchildren; some were on horseback, some on foot, but all were alikesqualid and wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, meagerlittle ponies, with perhaps one or two snake-eyed children seated behindthem, clinging to their tattered blankets; tall lank young men on foot, with bows and arrows in their hands; and girls whose native ugliness notall the charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could disguise, made upthe procession; although here and there was a man who, like our visitor, seemed to hold some rank in this respectable community. They were thedregs of the Kansas nation, who, while their betters were gone to huntbuffalo, had left the village on a begging expedition to Westport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught our horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. Fording the creek, the low roofs ofa number of rude buildings appeared, rising from a cluster of groves andwoods on the left; and riding up through a long lane, amid a profusionof wild roses and early spring flowers, we found the log-church andschool-houses belonging to the Methodist Shawanoe Mission. The Indianswere on the point of gathering to a religious meeting. Some scores ofthem, tall men in half-civilized dress, were seated on wooden benchesunder the trees; while their horses were tied to the sheds and fences. Their chief, Parks, a remarkably large and athletic man, was justarrived from Westport, where he owns a trading establishment. Besidethis, he has a fine farm and a considerable number of slaves. Indeed theShawanoes have made greater progress in agriculture than any other tribeon the Missouri frontier; and both in appearance and in character form amarked contrast to our late acquaintance, the Kansas. 

A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river Kansas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plowing through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the bank, at the Lower Delaware crossing. Ourtent was erected for the first time on a meadow close to the woods, andthe camp preparations being complete we began to think of supper. An oldDelaware woman, of some three hundred pounds' weight, sat in the porchof a little log-house close to the water, and a very pretty half-breedgirl was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding a large flock ofturkeys that were fluttering and gobbling about the door. But no offersof money, or even of tobacco, could induce her to part with one of herfavorites; so I took my rifle, to see if the woods or the river couldfurnish us anything. A multitude of quails were plaintively whistlingin the woods and meadows; but nothing appropriate to the rifle was to beseen, except three buzzards, seated on the spectral limbs of an old deadsycamore, that thrust itself out over the river from the dense sunnywall of fresh foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn down between theirshoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate in the soft sunshine that waspouring from the west. As they offered no epicurean temptations, Irefrained from disturbing their enjoyment; but contented myself withadmiring the calm beauty of the sunset, for the river, eddying swiftlyin deep purple shadows between the impending woods, formed a wild buttranquillizing scene. 

When I returned to the camp I found Shaw and an old Indian seated on theground in close conference, passing the pipe between them. The old manwas explaining that he loved the whites, and had an especial partialityfor tobacco. Delorier was arranging upon the ground our service of tincups and plates; and as other viands were not to be had, he set beforeus a repast of biscuit and bacon, and a large pot of coffee. Unsheathingour knives, we attacked it, disposed of the greater part, and tossed theresidue to the Indian. Meanwhile our horses, now hobbled for the firsttime, stood among the trees, with their fore-legs tied together, ingreat disgust and astonishment. They seemed by no means to relish thisforetaste of what was before them. Mine, in particular, had conceived amoral aversion to the prairie life. One of them, christened Hendrick, an animal whose strength and hardihood were his only merits, and whoyielded to nothing but the cogent arguments of the whip, looked towardus with an indignant countenance, as if he meditated avenging hiswrongs with a kick. The other, Pontiac, a good horse, though of plebeianlineage, stood with his head drooping and his mane hanging about hiseyes, with the grieved and sulky air of a lubberly boy sent off toschool. Poor Pontiac! his forebodings were but too just; for when I lastheard from him, he was under the lash of an Ogallalla brave, on a warparty against the Crows. 

As it grew dark, and the voices of the whip-poor-wills succeeded thewhistle of the quails, we removed our saddles to the tent, to serve aspillows, spread our blankets upon the ground, and prepared to bivouacfor the first time that season. Each man selected the place in thetent which he was to occupy for the journey. To Delorier, however, wasassigned the cart, into which he could creep in wet weather, and find amuch better shelter than his bourgeois enjoyed in the tent. 

The river Kansas at this point forms the boundary line between thecountry of the Shawanoes and that of the Delawares. We crossed it onthe following day, rafting over our horses and equipage with muchdifficulty, and unloading our cart in order to make our way up the steepascent on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; warm, tranquil andbright; and a perfect stillness reigned over the rough inclosuresand neglected fields of the Delawares, except the ceaseless hum andchirruping of myriads of insects. Now and then, an Indian rode past onhis way to the meeting-house, or through the dilapidated entrance ofsome shattered log-house an old woman might be discerned, enjoying allthe luxury of idleness. There was no village bell, for the Delawareshave none; and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the samespirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity as in some little New Englandvillage among the mountains of New Hampshire or the Vermont woods. 

Having at present no leisure for such reflections, we pursued ourjourney. A military road led from this point to Fort Leavenworth, andfor many miles the farms and cabins of the Delawares were scatteredat short intervals on either hand. The little rude structures of logs, erected usually on the borders of a tract of woods, made a picturesquefeature in the landscape. But the scenery needed no foreign aid. Naturehad done enough for it; and the alteration of rich green prairies andgroves that stood in clusters or lined the banks of the numerous littlestreams, had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that hasbeen for centuries under the hand of man. At that early season, too, it was in the height of its freshness and luxuriance. The woods wereflushed with the red buds of the maple; there were frequent floweringshrubs unknown in the east; and the green swells of the prairies werethickly studded with blossoms. 

Encamping near a spring by the side of a hill, we resumed our journey inthe morning, and early in the afternoon had arrived within a few milesof Fort Leavenworth. The road crossed a stream densely bordered withtrees, and running in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We were aboutto descend into it, when a wild and confused procession appeared, passing through the water below, and coming up the steep ascent towardus. We stopped to let them pass. They were Delawares, just returnedfrom a hunting expedition. All, both men and women, were mounted onhorseback, and drove along with them a considerable number of packmules, laden with the furs they had taken, together with the buffalorobes, kettles, and other articles of their traveling equipment, whichas well as their clothing and their weapons, had a worn and dingyaspect, as if they had seen hard service of late. At the rear of theparty was an old man, who, as he came up, stopped his horse to speak tous. He rode a little tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knottedwith burrs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to which, by way ofreins, was attached a string of raw hide. His saddle, robbed probablyfrom a Mexican, had no covering, being merely a tree of the Spanishform, with a piece of grizzly bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rudewooden stirrups attached, and in the absence of girth, a thong of hidepassing around the horse's belly. The rider's dark features and keensnaky eyes were unequivocally Indian. He wore a buckskin frock, which, like his fringed leggings, was well polished and blackened by grease andlong service; and an old handkerchief was tied around his head. Restingon the saddle before him lay his rifle; a weapon in the use of whichthe Delawares are skillful; though from its weight, the distant prairieIndians are too lazy to carry it. 

"Who's your chief?" he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware fixed his eyes intentlyupon us for a moment, and then sententiously remarked:

"No good! Too young!" With this flattering comment he left us, and rodeafter his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies of William Penn, thetributaries of the conquering Iroquois, are now the most adventurous anddreaded warriors upon the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes thevery names of which were unknown to their fathers in their ancientseats in Pennsylvania; and they push these new quarrels with trueIndian rancor, sending out their little war parties as far as the RockyMountains, and into the Mexican territories. Their neighbors andformer confederates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are ina prosperous condition; but the Delawares dwindle every year, from thenumber of men lost in their warlike expeditions. 

Soon after leaving this party, we saw, stretching on the right, theforests that follow the course of the Missouri, and the deep woodychannel through which at this point it runs. At a distance in front werethe white barracks of Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the treesupon an eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green meadow, aslevel as a lake, lay between us and the Missouri, and upon this, closeto a line of trees that bordered a little brook, stood the tent of thecaptain and his companions, with their horses feeding around it, butthey themselves were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was there, seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his harness. Boisverdstood cleaning his rifle at the door of the tent, and Sorel loungedidly about. On closer examination, however, we discovered the captain'sbrother, Jack, sitting in the tent, at his old occupation of splicingtrail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad Irish brogue, and said thathis brother was fishing in the river, and R. Gone to the garrison. Theyreturned before sunset. Meanwhile we erected our own tent not far off, and after supper a council was held, in which it was resolved to remainone day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next to bid a final adieu tothe frontier: or in the phraseology of the region, to "jump off. " Ourdeliberations were conducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell ofthe prairie, where the long dry grass of last summer was on fire. 

CHAPTER III

FORT LEAVENWORTH

On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. Colonel, now General, Kearny, to whom I had had the honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his headquarters with thehigh-bred courtesy habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no fort, being without defensive works, except two block-houses. No rumors ofwar had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the officers, the men werepassing and repassing, or lounging among the trees; although not manyweeks afterward it presented a different scene; for here the veryoff-scourings of the frontier were congregated, to be marshaled for theexpedition against Santa Fe. 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kickapoo village, fiveor six miles beyond. The path, a rather dubious and uncertain one, ledus along the ridge of high bluffs that bordered the Missouri; and bylooking to the right or to the left, we could enjoy a strange contrastof opposite scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising intoswells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, or gracefullyexpanding into wide grassy basins of miles in extent; while itscurvatures, swelling against the horizon, were often surmounted by linesof sunny woods; a scene to which the freshness of the season and thepeculiar mellowness of the atmosphere gave additional softness. Belowus, on the right, was a tract of ragged and broken woods. We could lookdown on the summits of the trees, some living and some dead; some erect, others leaning at every angle, and others still piled in masses togetherby the passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge, the turbidwaters of the Missouri were discernible through the boughs, rollingpowerfully along at the foot of the woody declivities of its fartherbank. 

The path soon after led inland; and as we crossed an open meadow we sawa cluster of buildings on a rising ground before us, with a crowd ofpeople surrounding them. They were the storehouse, cottage, and stablesof the Kickapoo trader's establishment. Just at that moment, as itchanced, he was beset with half the Indians of the settlement. They hadtied their wretched, neglected little ponies by dozens along the fencesand outhouses, and were either lounging about the place, or crowdinginto the trading house. Here were faces of various colors; red, green, white, and black, curiously intermingled and disposed over the visagein a variety of patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, brassear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. The trader was ablue-eyed open-faced man who neither in his manners nor his appearancebetrayed any of the roughness of the frontier; though just at present hewas obliged to keep a lynx eye on his suspicious customers, who, menand women, were climbing on his counter and seating themselves among hisboxes and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illustrated thecondition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned occupants. Fancy toyourself a little swift stream, working its devious way down a woodyvalley; sometimes wholly hidden under logs and fallen trees, sometimesissuing forth and spreading into a broad, clear pool; and on its banksin little nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature log-housesin utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of narrow, obstructed pathsconnected these habitations one with another. Sometimes we met a straycalf, a pig or a pony, belonging to some of the villagers, who usuallylay in the sun in front of their dwellings, and looked on us with cold, suspicious eyes as we approached. Farther on, in place of the log-hutsof the Kickapoos, we found the pukwi lodges of their neighbors, thePottawattamies, whose condition seemed no better than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive heat andsultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, the trader. By thistime the crowd around him had dispersed, and left him at leisure. Heinvited us to his cottage, a little white-and-green building, inthe style of the old French settlements; and ushered us into a neat, well-furnished room. The blinds were closed, and the heat and glareof the sun excluded; the room was as cool as a cavern. It was neatlycarpeted too and furnished in a manner that we hardly expected on thefrontier. The sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-filled bookcase wouldnot have disgraced an Eastern city; though there were one or two littletokens that indicated the rather questionable civilization of theregion. A pistol, loaded and capped, lay on the mantelpiece; and throughthe glass of the bookcase, peeping above the works of John Miltonglittered the handle of a very mischievous-looking knife. 

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, glasses, and a bottleof excellent claret; a refreshment most welcome in the extreme heat ofthe day; and soon after appeared a merry, laughing woman, who must havebeen, a year of two before, a very rich and luxuriant specimen of Creolebeauty. She came to say that lunch was ready in the next room. Ourhostess evidently lived on the sunny side of life, and troubled herselfwith none of its cares. She sat down and entertained us while we wereat table with anecdotes of fishing parties, frolics, and the officersat the fort. Taking leave at length of the hospitable trader and hisfriend, we rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call upon ColonelKearny. I found him still at table. There sat our friend the captain, in the same remarkable habiliments in which we saw him at Westport; theblack pipe, however, being for the present laid aside. He dangledhis little cap in his hand and talked of steeple-chases, touchingoccasionally upon his anticipated exploits in buffalo-hunting. There, too, was R. , somewhat more elegantly attired. For the last time wetasted the luxuries of civilization, and drank adieus to it in wine goodenough to make us almost regret the leave-taking. Then, mounting, we rode together to the camp, where everything was in readiness fordeparture on the morrow. 

CHAPTER IV

"JUMPING OFF"

The reader need not be told that John Bull never leaves home withoutencumbering himself with the greatest possible load of luggage. Ourcompanions were no exception to the rule. They had a wagon drawn by sixmules and crammed with provisions for six months, besides ammunitionenough for a regiment; spare rifles and fowling-pieces, ropes andharness; personal baggage, and a miscellaneous assortment of articles, which produced infinite embarrassment on the journey. They had alsodecorated their persons with telescopes and portable compasses, andcarried English double-barreled rifles of sixteen to the pound caliber, slung to their saddles in dragoon fashion. 

By sunrise on the 23d of May we had breakfasted; the tents were leveled, the animals saddled and harnessed, and all was prepared. "Avance donc!get up!" cried Delorier from his seat in front of the cart. Wright, our friend's muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got hisinsubordinate train in motion, and then the whole party filed from theground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and board, and the principlesof Blackstone's Commentaries. The day was a most auspicious one; and yetShaw and I felt certain misgivings, which in the sequel proved but toowell founded. We had just learned that though R. Had taken it upon himto adopt this course without consulting us, not a single man inthe party was acquainted with it; and the absurdity of our friend'shigh-handed measure very soon became manifest. His plan was to strikethe trail of several companies of dragoons, who last summer had made anexpedition under Colonel Kearny to Fort Laramie, and by this means toreach the grand trail of the Oregon emigrants up the Platte. 

We rode for an hour or two when a familiar cluster of buildings appearedon a little hill. "Hallo!" shouted the Kickapoo trader from over hisfence. "Where are you going?" A few rather emphatic exclamations mighthave been heard among us, when we found that we had gone miles out ofour way, and were not advanced an inch toward the Rocky Mountains. Sowe turned in the direction the trader indicated, and with the sun fora guide, began to trace a "bee line" across the prairies. We struggledthrough copses and lines of wood; we waded brooks and pools of water; wetraversed prairies as green as an emerald, expanding before us for mileafter mile; wider and more wild than the wastes Mazeppa rode over:

 "Man nor brute, Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, Lay in the wild luxuriant soil; No sign of travel; none of toil; The very air was mute. "

Riding in advance, we passed over one of these great plains; we lookedback and saw the line of scattered horsemen stretching for a mile ormore; and far in the rear against the horizon, the white wagons creepingslowly along. "Here we are at last!" shouted the captain. And in truthwe had struck upon the traces of a large body of horse. We turnedjoyfully and followed this new course, with tempers somewhat improved;and toward sunset encamped on a high swell of the prairie, at the footof which a lazy stream soaked along through clumps of rank grass. Itwas getting dark. We turned the horses loose to feed. "Drive down thetent-pickets hard, " said Henry Chatillon, "it is going to blow. " We didso, and secured the tent as well as we could; for the sky had changedtotally, and a fresh damp smell in the wind warned us that a stormynight was likely to succeed the hot clear day. The prairie also worea new aspect, and its vast swells had grown black and somber under theshadow of the clouds. The thunder soon began to growl at a distance. Picketing and hobbling the horses among the rich grass at the foot ofthe slope, where we encamped, we gained a shelter just as the rain beganto fall; and sat at the opening of the tent, watching the proceedings ofthe captain. In defiance of the rain he was stalking among the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him, lest some of his favorites should escape, or some accident should befallthem; and he cast an anxious eye toward three wolves who were sneakingalong over the dreary surface of the plain, as if he dreaded somehostile demonstration on their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two, when we came to anextensive belt of woods, through the midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an appearance particularly muddy and treacherous. Delorierwas in advance with his cart; he jerked his pipe from his mouth, lashedhis mules, and poured forth a volley of Canadian ejaculations. Inplunged the cart, but midway it stuck fast. Delorier leaped outknee-deep in water, and by dint of sacres and a vigorous application ofthe whip, he urged the mules out of the slough. Then approached the longteam and heavy wagon of our friends; but it paused on the brink. 

"Now my advice is--" began the captain, who had been anxiouslycontemplating the muddy gulf. 

"Drive on!" cried R. 

But Wright, the muleteer, apparently had not as yet decided the pointin his own mind; and he sat still in his seat on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low contemplative strain to himself. 

"My advice is, " resumed the captain, "that we unload; for I'll bet anyman five pounds that if we try to go through, we shall stick fast. "

"By the powers, we shall stick fast!" echoed Jack, the captain'sbrother, shaking his large head with an air of firm conviction. 

"Drive on! drive on!" cried R. Petulantly. 

"Well, " observed the captain, turning to us as we sat looking on, muchedified by this by-play among our confederates, "I can only give myadvice and if people won't be reasonable, why, they won't; that's all!"

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind; for he suddenly beganto shout forth a volley of oaths and curses, that, compared with theFrench imprecations of Delorier, sounded like the roaring of heavycannon after the popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese crackers. At the same time he discharged a shower of blows upon his mules, whohastily dived into the mud and drew the wagon lumbering after them. Fora moment the issue was dubious. Wright writhed about in his saddle, and swore and lashed like a madman; but who can count on a team ofhalf-broken mules? At the most critical point, when all should have beenharmony and combined effort, the perverse brutes fell into lamentabledisorder, and huddled together in confusion on the farther bank. Therewas the wagon up to the hub in mud, and visibly settling every instant. There was nothing for it but to unload; then to dig away the mudfrom before the wheels with a spade, and lay a causeway of bushes andbranches. This agreeable labor accomplished, the wagon at last emerged;but if I mention that some interruption of this sort occurred at leastfour or five times a day for a fortnight, the reader will understandthat our progress toward the Platte was not without its obstacles. 

We traveled six or seven miles farther, and "nooned" near a brook. Onthe point of resuming our journey, when the horses were all driven downto water, my homesick charger, Pontiac, made a sudden leap across, andset off at a round trot for the settlements. I mounted my remaininghorse, and started in pursuit. Making a circuit, I headed the runaway, hoping to drive him back to camp; but he instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide tour on the prairie, and got past me again. I tried thisplan repeatedly, with the same result; Pontiac was evidently disgustedwith the prairie; so I abandoned it, and tried another, trotting alonggently behind him, in hopes that I might quietly get near enough toseize the trail-rope which was fastened to his neck, and dragged about adozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. For mile after mileI followed the rascal, with the utmost care not to alarm him, andgradually got nearer, until at length old Hendrick's nose was fairlybrushed by the whisking tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Withoutdrawing rein, I slid softly to the ground; but my long heavy rifleencumbered me, and the low sound it made in striking the horn of thesaddle startled him; he pricked up his ears, and sprang off at a run. "My friend, " thought I, remounting, "do that again, and I will shootyou!"

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and thither I determinedto follow him. I made up my mind to spend a solitary and supperlessnight, and then set out again in the morning. One hope, however, remained. The creek where the wagon had stuck was just before us;Pontiac might be thirsty with his run, and stop there to drink. I keptas near to him as possible, taking every precaution not to alarm himagain; and the result proved as I had hoped: for he walked deliberatelyamong the trees, and stooped down to the water. I alighted, dragged oldHendrick through the mud, and with a feeling of infinite satisfactionpicked up the slimy trail-rope and twisted it three times round my hand. "Now let me see you get away again!" I thought, as I remounted. ButPontiac was exceedingly reluctant to turn back; Hendrick, too, whohad evidently flattered himself with vain hopes, showed the utmostrepugnance, and grumbled in a manner peculiar to himself at beingcompelled to face about. A smart cut of the whip restored hischeerfulness; and dragging the recovered truant behind, I set out insearch of the camp. An hour or two elapsed, when, near sunset, I saw thetents, standing on a rich swell of the prairie, beyond a line of woods, while the bands of horses were feeding in a low meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C. , cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope, and the rest were lying on the grass, smoking and telling stories. Thatnight we enjoyed a serenade from the wolves, more lively than any withwhich they had yet favored us; and in the morning one of the musiciansappeared, not many rods from the tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking at us with a pair of large gray eyes; but perceiving a rifleleveled at him, he leaped up and made off in hot haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for nothing occurredworthy of record. Should any one of my readers ever be impelled to visitthe prairies, and should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, perhaps, that can be adopted), I can assure him that he need notthink to enter at once upon the paradise of his imagination. A drearypreliminary, protracted crossing of the threshold awaits him beforehe finds himself fairly upon the verge of the "great American desert, "those barren wastes, the haunts of the buffalo and the Indian, wherethe very shadow of civilization lies a hundred leagues behind him. Theintervening country, the wide and fertile belt that extends forseveral hundred miles beyond the extreme frontier, will probably answertolerably well to his preconceived ideas of the prairie; for this itis from which picturesque tourists, painters, poets, and novelists, whohave seldom penetrated farther, have derived their conceptions of thewhole region. If he has a painter's eye, he may find his period ofprobation not wholly void of interest. The scenery, though tame, isgraceful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide for the eyeto measure green undulations, like motionless swells of the ocean;abundance of streams, followed through all their windings by lines ofwoods and scattered groves. But let him be as enthusiastic as he may, he will find enough to damp his ardor. His wagons will stick in the mud;his horses will break loose; harness will give way, and axle-trees proveunsound. His bed will be a soft one, consisting often of black mud, of the richest consistency. As for food, he must content himself withbiscuit and salt provisions; for strange as it may seem, this tract ofcountry produces very little game. As he advances, indeed, he will see, moldering in the grass by his path, the vast antlers of the elk, andfarther on, the whitened skulls of the buffalo, once swarming over thisnow deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may journey for a fortnight, and see not so much as the hoof-print of a deer; in the spring, not evena prairie hen is to be had. 

Yet, to compensate him for this unlooked-for deficiency of game, hewill find himself beset with "varmints" innumerable. The wolves willentertain him with a concerto at night, and skulk around him by day, just beyond rifle shot; his horse will step into badger-holes; fromevery marsh and mud puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking, andtrilling of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, shape anddimensions. A profusion of snakes will glide away from under his horse'sfeet, or quietly visit him in his tent at night; while the pertinacioushumming of unnumbered mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. When thirsty with a long ride in the scorching sun over some boundlessreach of prairie, he comes at length to a pool of water, and alights todrink, he discovers a troop of young tadpoles sporting in the bottom ofhis cup. Add to this, that all the morning the hot sun beats upon himwith sultry, penetrating heat, and that, with provoking regularity, atabout four o'clock in the afternoon, a thunderstorm rises and drencheshim to the skin. Such being the charms of this favored region, thereader will easily conceive the extent of our gratification at learningthat for a week we had been journeying on the wrong track! How thisagreeable discovery was made I will presently explain. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we stopped to rest at noonupon the open prairie. No trees were in sight; but close at hand, alittle dribbling brook was twisting from side to side through a hollow;now forming holes of stagnant water, and now gliding over the mud in ascarcely perceptible current, among a growth of sickly bushes, and greatclumps of tall rank grass. The day was excessively hot and oppressive. The horses and mules were rolling on the prairie to refresh themselves, or feeding among the bushes in the hollow. We had dined; and Delorier, puffing at his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrubbing our service of tinplate. Shaw lay in the shade, under the cart, to rest for a while, before the word should be given to "catch up. " Henry Chatillon, beforelying down, was looking about for signs of snakes, the only livingthings that he feared, and uttering various ejaculations of disgust, at finding several suspicious-looking holes close to the cart. I satleaning against the wheel in a scanty strip of shade, making a pair ofhobbles to replace those which my contumacious steed Pontiac hadbroken the night before. The camp of our friends, a rod or two distant, presented the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 

"Hallo!" cried Henry, looking up from his inspection of the snake-holes, "here comes the old captain!"

The captain approached, and stood for a moment contemplating us insilence. 

"I say, Parkman, " he began, "look at Shaw there, asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping off the hub of the wheel on his shoulder!"

At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and feeling the partindicated, he found his hand glued fast to his red flannel shirt. 

"He'll look well when he gets among the squaws, won't he?" observed thecaptain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell stories of which hisstock was inexhaustible. Yet every moment he would glance nervously atthe horses. At last he jumped up in great excitement. "See that horse!There--that fellow just walking over the hill! By Jove; he's off. It'syour big horse, Shaw; no it isn't, it's Jack's! Jack! Jack! hallo, Jack!" Jack thus invoked, jumped up and stared vacantly at us. 

"Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose him!" roared thecaptain. 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, his broad pantaloonsflapping about his feet. The captain gazed anxiously till he sawthat the horse was caught; then he sat down, with a countenance ofthoughtfulness and care. 

"I tell you what it is, " he said, "this will never do at all. We shalllose every horse in the band someday or other, and then a pretty plightwe should be in! Now I am convinced that the only way for us is to haveevery man in the camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever we stop. Supposing a hundred Pawnees should jump up out of that ravine, allyelling and flapping their buffalo robes, in the way they do? Why, intwo minutes not a hoof would be in sight. " We reminded the captain thata hundred Pawnees would probably demolish the horse-guard, if he were toresist their depredations. 

"At any rate, " pursued the captain, evading the point, "our whole systemis wrong; I'm convinced of it; it is totally unmilitary. Why, the waywe travel, strung out over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might attackthe foremost men, and cut them off before the rest could come up. "

"We are not in an enemy's country, yet, " said Shaw; "when we are, we'lltravel together. "

"Then, " said the captain, "we might be attacked in camp. We've nosentinels; we camp in disorder; no precautions at all to guard againstsurprise. My own convictions are that we ought to camp in a hollowsquare, with the fires in the center; and have sentinels, and a regularpassword appointed for every night. Besides, there should be vedettes, riding in advance, to find a place for the camp and give warning of anenemy. These are my convictions. I don't want to dictate to any man. Igive advice to the best of my judgment, that's all; and then let peopledo as they please. "

We intimated that perhaps it would be as well to postpone suchburdensome precautions until there should be some actual need ofthem; but he shook his head dubiously. The captain's sense of militarypropriety had been severely shocked by what he considered the irregularproceedings of the party; and this was not the first time he hadexpressed himself upon the subject. But his convictions seldom producedany practical results. In the present case, he contented himself, as usual, with enlarging on the importance of his suggestions, andwondering that they were not adopted. But his plan of sending outvedettes seemed particularly dear to him; and as no one else wasdisposed to second his views on this point, he took it into his head toride forward that afternoon, himself. 

"Come, Parkman, " said he, "will you go with me?"

We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. The captain, in the course of twenty years' service in the British army, had seensomething of life; one extensive side of it, at least, he had enjoyedthe best opportunities for studying; and being naturally a pleasantfellow, he was a very entertaining companion. He cracked jokes and toldstories for an hour or two; until, looking back, we saw the prairiebehind us stretching away to the horizon, without a horseman or a wagonin sight. 

"Now, " said the captain, "I think the vedettes had better stop till themain body comes up. "

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth of woods just beforeus, with a stream running through them. Having crossed this, we foundon the other side a fine level meadow, half encircled by the trees; andfastening our horses to some bushes, we sat down on the grass; while, with an old stump of a tree for a target, I began to display thesuperiority of the renowned rifle of the back woods over the foreigninnovation borne by the captain. At length voices could be heard in thedistance behind the trees. 

"There they come!" said the captain: "let's go and see how they getthrough the creek. "

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where the trail crossedit. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees; as we looked down, we saw aconfused crowd of horsemen riding through the water; and among the dingyhabiliment of our party glittered the uniforms of four dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the back, in advance of the rest, witha somewhat indignant countenance. The first word he spoke was a blessingfervently invoked on the head of R. , who was riding, with a crest-fallenair, in the rear. Thanks to the ingenious devices of the gentleman, wehad missed the track entirely, and wandered, not toward the Platte, butto the village of the Iowa Indians. This we learned from the dragoons, who had lately deserted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us that ourbest plan now was to keep to the northward until we should strike thetrail formed by several parties of Oregon emigrants, who had that seasonset out from St. Joseph's in Missouri. 

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill-starred spot; while thedeserters, whose case admitted of no delay rode rapidly forward. On theday following, striking the St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses'heads toward Fort Laramie, then about seven hundred miles to thewestward. 

CHAPTER V

"THE BIG BLUE"

The great medley of Oregon and California emigrants, at their campsaround Independence, had heard reports that several additional partieswere on the point of setting out from St. Joseph's farther to thenorthward. The prevailing impression was that these were Mormons, twenty-three hundred in number; and a great alarm was excited inconsequence. The people of Illinois and Missouri, who composed by farthe greater part of the emigrants, have never been on the best termswith the "Latter Day Saints"; and it is notorious throughout the countryhow much blood has been spilt in their feuds, even far within the limitsof the settlements. No one could predict what would be the result, whenlarge armed bodies of these fanatics should encounter the most impetuousand reckless of their old enemies on the broad prairie, far beyond thereach of law or military force. The women and children at Independenceraised a great outcry; the men themselves were seriously alarmed; and, as I learned, they sent to Colonel Kearny, requesting an escort ofdragoons as far as the Platte. This was refused; and as the sequelproved, there was no occasion for it. The St. Joseph's emigrants were asgood Christians and as zealous Mormon-haters as the rest; and the veryfew families of the "Saints" who passed out this season by the route ofthe Platte remained behind until the great tide of emigration had goneby; standing in quite as much awe of the "gentiles" as the latter did ofthem. 

We were now, as I before mentioned, upon this St. Joseph's trail. It wasevident, by the traces, that large parties were a few days in advance ofus; and as we too supposed them to be Mormons, we had some apprehensionof interruption. 

The journey was somewhat monotonous. One day we rode on for hours, without seeing a tree or a bush; before, behind, and on either side, stretched the vast expanse, rolling in a succession of graceful swells, covered with the unbroken carpet of fresh green grass. Here and there acrow, or a raven, or a turkey-buzzard, relieved the uniformity. 

"What shall we do to-night for wood and water?" we began to ask of eachother; for the sun was within an hour of setting. At length a dark greenspeck appeared, far off on the right; it was the top of a tree, peeringover a swell of the prairie; and leaving the trail, we made all hastetoward it. It proved to be the vanguard of a cluster of bushes and lowtrees, that surrounded some pools of water in an extensive hollow; so weencamped on the rising ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Delorier thrust his brown faceand old felt hat into the opening, and dilating his eyes to their utmostextent, announced supper. There were the tin cups and the iron spoons, arranged in military order on the grass, and the coffee-pot predominantin the midst. The meal was soon dispatched; but Henry Chatillon stillsat cross-legged, dallying with the remnant of his coffee, the beveragein universal use upon the prairie, and an especial favorite with him. Hepreferred it in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or cream; andon the present occasion it met his entire approval, being exceedinglystrong, or, as he expressed it, "right black. "

It was a rich and gorgeous sunset--an American sunset; and the ruddyglow of the sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water amongthe shadowy copses in the meadow below. 

"I must have a bath to-night, " said Shaw. "How is it, Delorier? Anychance for a swim down here?"

"Ah! I cannot tell; just as you please, monsieur, " replied Delorier, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by his ignorance of English, andextremely anxious to conform in all respects to the opinion and wishesof his bourgeois. 

"Look at his moccasion, " said I. "It has evidently been lately immersedin a profound abyss of black mud. "

"Come, " said Shaw; "at any rate we can see for ourselves. "

We set out together; and as we approached the bushes, which were at somedistance, we found the ground becoming rather treacherous. We couldonly get along by stepping upon large clumps of tall rank grass, withfathomless gulfs between, like innumerable little quaking islands inan ocean of mud, where a false step would have involved our boots in acatastrophe like that which had befallen Delorier's moccasins. The thinglooked desperate; we separated, so as to search in different directions, Shaw going off to the right, while I kept straight forward. At last Icame to the edge of the bushes: they were young waterwillows, coveredwith their caterpillar-like blossoms, but intervening between themand the last grass clump was a black and deep slough, over which, by avigorous exertion, I contrived to jump. Then I shouldered my way throughthe willows, tramping them down by main force, till I came to a widestream of water, three inches deep, languidly creeping along over abottom of sleek mud. My arrival produced a great commotion. A huge greenbull-frog uttered an indignant croak, and jumped off the bank with aloud splash: his webbed feet twinkled above the surface, as he jerkedthem energetically upward, and I could see him ensconcing himself inthe unresisting slime at the bottom, whence several large air bubblesstruggled lazily to the top. Some little spotted frogs instantlyfollowed the patriarch's example; and then three turtles, not largerthan a dollar, tumbled themselves off a broad "lily pad, " where they hadbeen reposing. At the same time a snake, gayly striped with black andyellow, glided out from the bank, and writhed across to the other side;and a small stagnant pool into which my foot had inadvertently pushed astone was instantly alive with a congregation of black tadpoles. 

"Any chance for a bath, where you are?" called out Shaw, from adistance. 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through the willows, andrejoining my companion, we proceeded to push our researches in company. Not far on the right, a rising ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to sink down abruptly to the water, and give hope of bettersuccess; so toward this we directed our steps. When we reached the placewe found it no easy matter to get along between the hill and the water, impeded as we were by a growth of stiff, obstinate young birch-trees, laced together by grapevines. In the twilight, we now and then, tosupport ourselves, snatched at the touch-me-not stem of some ancientsweet-brier. Shaw, who was in advance, suddenly uttered a somewhatemphatic monosyllable; and looking up I saw him with one hand grasping asapling, and one foot immersed in the water, from which he had forgottento withdraw it, his whole attention being engaged in contemplating themovements of a water-snake, about five feet long, curiously checkeredwith black and green, who was deliberately swimming across the pool. There being no stick or stone at hand to pelt him with, we looked at himfor a time in silent disgust; and then pushed forward. Our perseverencewas at last rewarded; for several rods farther on, we emerged upon alittle level grassy nook among the brushwood, and by an extraordinarydispensation of fortune, the weeds and floating sticks, which elsewherecovered the pool, seemed to have drawn apart, and left a few yards ofclear water just in front of this favored spot. We sounded it with astick; it was four feet deep; we lifted a specimen in our cupped hands;it seemed reasonably transparent, so we decided that the time for actionwas arrived. But our ablutions were suddenly interrupted by tenthousand punctures, like poisoned needles, and the humming of myriadsof over-grown mosquitoes, rising in all directions from their native mudand slime and swarming to the feast. We were fain to beat a retreat withall possible speed. 

We made toward the tents, much refreshed by the bath which the heat ofthe weather, joined to our prejudices, had rendered very desirable. 

"What's the matter with the captain? look at him!" said Shaw. Thecaptain stood alone on the prairie, swinging his hat violently aroundhis head, and lifting first one foot and then the other, without movingfrom the spot. First he looked down to the ground with an air ofsupreme abhorrence; then he gazed upward with a perplexed and indignantcountenance, as if trying to trace the flight of an unseen enemy. Wecalled to know what was the matter; but he replied only by execrationsdirected against some unknown object. We approached, when our ears weresaluted by a droning sound, as if twenty bee-hives had been overturnedat once. The air above was full of large black insects, in a state ofgreat commotion, and multitudes were flying about just above the tops ofthe grass blades. 

"Don't be afraid, " called the captain, observing us recoil. "The bruteswon't sting. "

At this I knocked one down with my hat, and discovered him to be noother than a "dorbug"; and looking closer, we found the ground thicklyperforated with their holes. 

We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, and walking upthe rising ground to the tents, found Delorier's fire still glowingbrightly. We sat down around it, and Shaw began to expatiate on theadmirable facilities for bathing that we had discovered, and recommendedthe captain by all means to go down there before breakfast in themorning. The captain was in the act of remarking that he couldn't havebelieved it possible, when he suddenly interrupted himself, and clappedhis hand to his cheek, exclaiming that "those infernal humbugs were athim again. " In fact, we began to hear sounds as if bullets were hummingover our heads. In a moment something rapped me sharply on the forehead, then upon the neck, and immediately I felt an indefinite number of sharpwiry claws in active motion, as if their owner were bent on pushing hisexplorations farther. I seized him, and dropped him into the fire. Our party speedily broke up, and we adjourned to our respective tents, where, closing the opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from invasion. But all precaution was fruitless. The dorbugs hummed through the tent, and marched over our faces until day-light; when, opening our blankets, we found several dozen clinging there with the utmost tenacity. Thefirst object that met our eyes in the morning was Delorier, who seemedto be apostrophizing his frying-pan, which he held by the handle atarm's length. It appeared that he had left it at night by the fire; andthe bottom was now covered with dorbugs, firmly imbedded. Multitudesbeside, curiously parched and shriveled, lay scattered among the ashes. 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We had just taken ourseats at breakfast, or rather reclined in the classic mode, when anexclamation from Henry Chatillon, and a shout of alarm from the captain, gave warning of some casualty, and looking up, we saw the whole bandof animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the settlements, theincorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than graceful. Three or four of us ran to cutthem off, dashing as best we might through the tall grass, which wasglittering with myriads of dewdrops. After a race of a mile or more, Shaw caught a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way of bridle round theanimal's jaw, and leaping upon his back, he got in advance of theremaining fugitives, while we, soon bringing them together, drove themin a crowd up to the tents, where each man caught and saddled his own. Then we heard lamentations and curses; for half the horses had broketheir hobbles, and many were seriously galled by attempting to run infetters. 

It was late that morning before we were on the march; and early in theafternoon we were compelled to encamp, for a thunder-gust came up andsuddenly enveloped us in whirling sheets of rain. With much ado, wepitched our tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunderbellowed and growled over our heads. In the morning, light peacefulshowers succeeded the cataracts of rain, that had been drenching usthrough the canvas of our tents. About noon, when there were sometreacherous indications of fair weather, we got in motion again. 

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the cloudswere like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible, itwore a hazy and languid aspect. The sun beat down upon us with a sultrypenetrating heat almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowlyalong over the interminable level, the horses hung their heads asthey waded fetlock deep through the mud, and the men slouched intothe easiest position upon the saddle. At last, toward evening, the oldfamiliar black heads of thunderclouds rose fast above the horizon, andthe same deep muttering of distant thunder that had become the ordinaryaccompaniment of our afternoon's journey began to roll hoarsely overthe prairie. Only a few minutes elapsed before the whole sky was denselyshrouded, and the prairie and some clusters of woods in front assumed apurple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly from the densest fold ofthe cloud the flash leaped out, quivering again and again down to theedge of the prairie; and at the same instant came the sharp burst andthe long rolling peal of the thunder. A cool wind, filled with the smellof rain, just then overtook us, leveling the tall grass by the side ofthe path. 

"Come on; we must ride for it!" shouted Shaw, rushing past at fullspeed, his led horse snorting at his side. The whole party broke intofull gallop, and made for the trees in front. Passing these, we foundbeyond them a meadow which they half inclosed. We rode pell-mell uponthe ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our saddles; and in a momenteach man was kneeling at his horse's feet. The hobbles were adjusted, and the animals turned loose; then, as the wagons came wheeling rapidlyto the spot, we seized upon the tent-poles, and just as the storm broke, we were prepared to receive it. It came upon us almost with the darknessof night; the trees, which were close at hand, were completely shroudedby the roaring torrents of rain. 

We were sitting in the tent, when Delorier, with his broad felt hathanging about his ears, and his shoulders glistening with rain, thrustin his head. 

"Voulez-vous du souper, tout de suite? I can make a fire, sous lacharette--I b'lieve so--I try. "

"Never mind supper, man; come in out of the rain. "

Delorier accordingly crouched in the entrance, for modesty would notpermit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defense against such a cataract. Therain could not enter bodily, but it beat through the canvas in a finedrizzle, that wetted us just as effectively. We sat upon our saddleswith faces of the utmost surliness, while the water dropped from thevizors of our caps, and trickled down our cheeks. My india-rubber cloakconducted twenty little rapid streamlets to the ground; and Shaw'sblanket-coat was saturated like a sponge. But what most concerned uswas the sight of several puddles of water rapidly accumulating; onein particular, that was gathering around the tent-pole, threatenedto overspread the whole area within the tent, holding forth but anindifferent promise of a comfortable night's rest. Toward sunset, however, the storm ceased as suddenly as it began. A bright streakof clear red sky appeared above the western verge of the prairie, thehorizontal rays of the sinking sun streamed through it and glittered ina thousand prismatic colors upon the dripping groves and the prostrategrass. The pools in the tent dwindled and sunk into the saturated soil. 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night set in, when thetumult broke forth anew. The thunder here is not like the tame thunderof the Atlantic coast. Bursting with a terrific crash directly above ourheads, it roared over the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to rollaround the whole circle of the firmament with a peculiar and awfulreverberation. The lightning flashed all night, playing with its lividglare upon the neighboring trees, revealing the vast expanse of theplain, and then leaving us shut in as by a palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peal awakened us, and made usconscious of the electric battle that was raging, and of the floods thatdashed upon the stanch canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubbercloths, placed between our blankets and the soil. For a while theyexcluded the water to admiration; but when at length it accumulated andbegan to run over the edges, they served equally well to retain it, sothat toward the end of the night we were unconsciously reposing in smallpools of rain. 

On finally awaking in the morning the prospect was not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in torrents; but it pattered with a quietpertinacity upon the strained and saturated canvas. We disengagedourselves from our blankets, every fiber of which glistened with littlebeadlike drops of water, and looked out in vain hope of discovering sometoken of fair weather. The clouds, in lead-colored volumes, rested uponthe dismal verge of the prairie, or hung sluggishly overhead, while theearth wore an aspect no more attractive than the heavens, exhibitingnothing but pools of water, grass beaten down, and mud well trampled byour mules and horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of forlornand passive misery, and their wagons in like manner, drenched andwoe-begone, stood not far off. The captain was just returning from hismorning's inspection of the horses. He stalked through the mist andrain, with his plaid around his shoulders; his little pipe, dingy as anantiquarian relic, projecting from beneath his mustache, and his brotherJack at his heels. 

"Good-morning, captain. "

"Good-morning to your honors, " said the captain, affecting the Hibernianaccent; but at that instant, as he stooped to enter the tent, he trippedupon the cords at the entrance, and pitched forward against the gunswhich were strapped around the pole in the center. 

"You are nice men, you are!" said he, after an ejaculation not necessaryto be recorded, "to set a man-trap before your door every morning tocatch your visitors. "

Then he sat down upon Henry Chatillon's saddle. We tossed a piece ofbuffalo robe to Jack, who was looking about in some embarrassment. Hespread it on the ground, and took his seat, with a stolid countenance, at his brother's side. 

"Exhilarating weather, captain!"

"Oh, delightful, delightful!" replied the captain. "I knew it would beso; so much for starting yesterday at noon! I knew how it would turnout; and I said so at the time. "

"You said just the contrary to us. We were in no hurry, and only movedbecause you insisted on it. "

"Gentlemen, " said the captain, taking his pipe from his mouth with anair of extreme gravity, "it was no plan of mine. There is a man among uswho is determined to have everything his own way. You may express youropinion; but don't expect him to listen. You may be as reasonable asyou like: oh, it all goes for nothing! That man is resolved to rule theroost and he'll set his face against any plan that he didn't think ofhimself. "

The captain puffed for a while at his pipe, as if meditating upon hisgrievances; then he began again:

"For twenty years I have been in the British army; and in all that timeI never had half so much dissension, and quarreling, and nonsense, assince I have been on this cursed prairie. He's the most uncomfortableman I ever met. "

"Yes, " said Jack; "and don't you know, Bill, how he drank up all thecoffee last night, and put the rest by for himself till the morning!"

"He pretends to know everything, " resumed the captain; "nobody must giveorders but he! It's, oh! we must do this; and, oh! we must do that; andthe tent must be pitched here, and the horses must be picketed there;for nobody knows as well as he does. "

We were a little surprised at this disclosure of domestic dissensionsamong our allies, for though we knew of their existence, we were notaware of their extent. The persecuted captain seeming wholly at a lossas to the course of conduct that he should pursue, we recommended him toadopt prompt and energetic measures; but all his military experiencehad failed to teach him the indispensable lesson to be "hard, " when theemergency requires it. 

"For twenty years, " he repeated, "I have been in the British army, andin that time I have been intimately acquainted with some two hundredofficers, young and old, and I never yet quarreled with any man. Oh, 'anything for a quiet life!' that's my maxim. "

We intimated that the prairie was hardly the place to enjoy a quietlife, but that, in the present circumstances, the best thing he coulddo toward securing his wished-for tranquillity, was immediately to puta period to the nuisance that disturbed it. But again the captain'seasy good-nature recoiled from the task. The somewhat vigorous measuresnecessary to gain the desired result were utterly repugnant to him; hepreferred to pocket his grievances, still retaining the privilege ofgrumbling about them. "Oh, anything for a quiet life!" he said again, circling back to his favorite maxim. 

But to glance at the previous history of our transatlantic confederates. The captain had sold his commission, and was living in bachelor easeand dignity in his paternal halls, near Dublin. He hunted, fished, rodesteeple-chases, ran races, and talked of his former exploits. Hewas surrounded with the trophies of his rod and gun; the walls wereplentifully garnished, he told us, with moose-horns and deer-horns, bear-skins, and fox-tails; for the captain's double-barreled rifle hadseen service in Canada and Jamaica; he had killed salmon in Nova Scotia, and trout, by his own account, in all the streams of the three kingdoms. But in an evil hour a seductive stranger came from London; no less aperson than R. , who, among other multitudinous wanderings, had once beenupon the western prairies, and naturally enough was anxious to visitthem again. The captain's imagination was inflamed by the pictures of ahunter's paradise that his guest held forth; he conceived an ambitionto add to his other trophies the horns of a buffalo, and the claws ofa grizzly bear; so he and R. Struck a league to travel in company. Jackfollowed his brother, as a matter of course. Two weeks on board theAtlantic steamer brought them to Boston; in two weeks more of hardtraveling they reached St. Louis, from which a ride of six dayscarried them to the frontier; and here we found them, in full tide ofpreparation for their journey. 

We had been throughout on terms of intimacy with the captain, butR. , the motive power of our companions' branch of the expedition, wasscarcely known to us. His voice, indeed, might be heard incessantly; butat camp he remained chiefly within the tent, and on the road he eitherrode by himself, or else remained in close conversation with his friendWright, the muleteer. As the captain left the tent that morning, Iobserved R. Standing by the fire, and having nothing else to do, Idetermined to ascertain, if possible, what manner of man he was. He hada book under his arm, but just at present he was engrossed in activelysuperintending the operations of Sorel, the hunter, who was cooking somecorn-bread over the coals for breakfast. R. Was a well-formed and rathergood-looking man, some thirty years old; considerably younger than thecaptain. He wore a beard and mustache of the oakum complexion, andhis attire was altogether more elegant than one ordinarily sees on theprairie. He wore his cap on one side of his head; his checked shirt, open in front, was in very neat order, considering the circumstances, and his blue pantaloons, of the John Bull cut, might once have figuredin Bond Street. 

"Turn over that cake, man! turn it over, quick! Don't you see itburning?"

"It ain't half done, " growled Sorel, in the amiable tone of a whippedbull-dog. 

"It is. Turn it over, I tell you!"

Sorel, a strong, sullen-looking Canadian, who from having spent his lifeamong the wildest and most remote of the Indian tribes, had imbibed muchof their dark, vindictive spirit, looked ferociously up, as if he longedto leap upon his bourgeois and throttle him; but he obeyed the order, coming from so experienced an artist. 

"It was a good idea of yours, " said I, seating myself on the tongue of awagon, "to bring Indian meal with you. "

"Yes, yes" said R. "It's good bread for the prairie--good bread for theprairie. I tell you that's burning again. "

Here he stooped down, and unsheathing the silver-mounted hunting-knifein his belt, began to perform the part of cook himself; at the sametime requesting me to hold for a moment the book under his arm, whichinterfered with the exercise of these important functions. I openedit; it was "Macaulay's Lays"; and I made some remark, expressing myadmiration of the work. 

"Yes, yes; a pretty good thing. Macaulay can do better than that though. I know him very well. I have traveled with him. Where was it we firstmet--at Damascus? No, no; it was in Italy. "

"So, " said I, "you have been over the same ground with your countryman, the author of 'Eothen'? There has been some discussion in America as towho he is. I have heard Milne's name mentioned. "

"Milne's? Oh, no, no, no; not at all. It was Kinglake; Kinglake's theman. I know him very well; that is, I have seen him. "

Here Jack C. , who stood by, interposed a remark (a thing not common withhim), observing that he thought the weather would become fair beforetwelve o'clock. 

"It's going to rain all day, " said R. , "and clear up in the middle ofthe night. "

Just then the clouds began to dissipate in a very unequivocal manner;but Jack, not caring to defend his point against so authoritative adeclaration, walked away whistling, and we resumed our conversation. 

"Borrow, the author of 'The Bible in Spain, ' I presume you know himtoo?"

"Oh, certainly; I know all those men. By the way, they told me that oneof your American writers, Judge Story, had died lately. I edited some ofhis works in London; not without faults, though. "

Here followed an erudite commentary on certain points of law, in whichhe particularly animadverted on the errors into which he considered thatthe judge had been betrayed. At length, having touched successivelyon an infinite variety of topics, I found that I had the happinessof discovering a man equally competent to enlighten me upon them all, equally an authority on matters of science or literature, philosophy orfashion. The part I bore in the conversation was by no means a prominentone; it was only necessary to set him going, and when he had run longenough upon one topic, to divert him to another and lead him on to pourout his heaps of treasure in succession. 

"What has that fellow been saying to you?" said Shaw, as I returned tothe tent. "I have heard nothing but his talking for the last half-hour. "

R. Had none of the peculiar traits of the ordinary "British snob";his absurdities were all his own, belonging to no particular nation orclime. He was possessed with an active devil that had driven him overland and sea, to no great purpose, as it seemed; for although he had theusual complement of eyes and ears, the avenues between these organs andhis brain appeared remarkably narrow and untrodden. His energy was muchmore conspicuous than his wisdom; but his predominant characteristic wasa magnanimous ambition to exercise on all occasions an awful rule andsupremacy, and this propensity equally displayed itself, as the readerwill have observed, whether the matter in question was the baking of ahoe-cake or a point of international law. When such diverse elementsas he and the easy-tempered captain came in contact, no wonder somecommotion ensued; R. Rode roughshod, from morning till night, over hismilitary ally. 

At noon the sky was clear and we set out, trailing through mud and slimesix inches deep. That night we were spared the customary infliction ofthe shower bath. 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, not far from a patchof woods which lay on the right. Jack C. Rode a little in advance;

The livelong day he had not spoke;

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, and roared out tohis brother:

"O Bill! here's a cow!"

The captain instantly galloped forward, and he and Jack made a vainattempt to capture the prize; but the cow, with a well-grounded distrustof their intentions, took refuge among the trees. R. Joined them, andthey soon drove her out. We watched their evolutions as they gallopedaround here, trying in vain to noose her with their trail-ropes, whichthey had converted into lariettes for the occasion. At length theyresorted to milder measures, and the cow was driven along with theparty. Soon after the usual thunderstorm came up, the wind blowing withsuch fury that the streams of rain flew almost horizontally along theprairie, roaring like a cataract. The horses turned tail to the storm, and stood hanging their heads, bearing the infliction with an air ofmeekness and resignation; while we drew our heads between our shoulders, and crouched forward, so as to make our backs serve as a pent-housefor the rest of our persons. Meanwhile the cow, taking advantage of thetumult, ran off, to the great discomfiture of the captain, who seemed toconsider her as his own especial prize, since she had been discovered byJack. In defiance of the storm, he pulled his cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge buffalo pistol from his holster, and set out at full speedafter her. This was the last we saw of them for some time, the mist andrain making an impenetrable veil; but at length we heard the captain'sshout, and saw him looming through the tempest, the picture of aHibernian cavalier, with his cocked pistol held aloft for safety's sake, and a countenance of anxiety and excitement. The cow trotted before him, but exhibited evident signs of an intention to run off again, and thecaptain was roaring to us to head her. But the rain had got in behindour coat collars, and was traveling over our necks in numerous littlestreamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, for fear of admittingmore, we sat stiff and immovable, looking at the captain askance, andlaughing at his frantic movements. At last the cow made a sudden plungeand ran off; the captain grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his horse, and galloped after, with evident designs of mischief. In a moment weheard the faint report, deadened by the rain, and then the conquerorand his victim reappeared, the latter shot through the body, and quitehelpless. Not long after the storm moderated and we advanced again. Thecow walked painfully along under the charge of Jack, to whom the captainhad committed her, while he himself rode forward in his old capacityof vedette. We were approaching a long line of trees, that followeda stream stretching across our path, far in front, when we beheld thevedette galloping toward us, apparently much excited, but with a broadgrin on his face. 

"Let that cow drop behind!" he shouted to us; "here's her owners!" Andin fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large white object, likea tent, was visible behind them. On approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, anda large white rock standing by the path. The cow therefore resumed herplace in our procession. She walked on until we encamped, when R. Firmlyapproaching with his enormous English double-barreled rifle, calmly anddeliberately took aim at her heart, and discharged into it first onebullet and then the other. She was then butchered on the most approvedprinciples of woodcraft, and furnished a very welcome item to oursomewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the river called the "Big Blue. " Bytitles equally elegant, almost all the streams of this region aredesignated. We had struggled through ditches and little brooks all thatmorning; but on traversing the dense woods that lined the banks of theBlue, we found more formidable difficulties awaited us, for the stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, and rapid. 

No sooner were we on the spot than R. Had flung off his clothes, and wasswimming across, or splashing through the shallows, with the end of arope between his teeth. We all looked on in admiration, wondering whatmight be the design of this energetic preparation; but soon we heard himshouting: "Give that rope a turn round that stump! You, Sorel: do youhear? Look sharp now, Boisverd! Come over to this side, some of you, andhelp me!" The men to whom these orders were directed paid not theleast attention to them, though they were poured out without pauseor intermission. Henry Chatillon directed the work, and it proceededquietly and rapidly. R. 's sharp brattling voice might have beenheard incessantly; and he was leaping about with the utmost activity, multiplying himself, after the manner of great commanders, as if hisuniversal presence and supervision were of the last necessity. Hiscommands were rather amusingly inconsistent; for when he saw that themen would not do as he told them, he wisely accommodated himselfto circumstances, and with the utmost vehemence ordered them to doprecisely that which they were at the time engaged upon, no doubtrecollecting the story of Mahomet and the refractory mountain. Shaw smiled significantly; R. Observed it, and, approaching with acountenance of lofty indignation, began to vapor a little, but wasinstantly reduced to silence. 

The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods upon it, withthe exception of our guns, which each man chose to retain in his ownkeeping. Sorel, Boisverd, Wright and Delorier took their stations atthe four corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it; and ina moment more, all our earthly possessions were floating on the turbidwaters of the Big Blue. We sat on the bank, anxiously watching theresult, until we saw the raft safe landed in a little cove far down onthe opposite bank. The empty wagons were easily passed across; and theneach man mounting a horse, we rode through the stream, the stray animalsfollowing of their own accord. 

CHAPTER VI

THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT

We were now arrived at the close of our solitary journeyings along theSt. Joseph's trail. On the evening of the 23d of May we encamped nearits junction with the old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants. Wehad ridden long that afternoon, trying in vain to find wood and water, until at length we saw the sunset sky reflected from a pool encircled bybushes and a rock or two. The water lay in the bottom of a hollow, thesmooth prairie gracefully rising in oceanlike swells on every side. We pitched our tents by it; not however before the keen eye of HenryChatillon had discerned some unusual object upon the faintly-definedoutline of the distant swell. But in the moist, hazy atmosphere of theevening, nothing could be clearly distinguished. As we lay around thefire after supper, a low and distant sound, strange enough amid theloneliness of the prairie, reached our ears--peals of laughter, and thefaint voices of men and women. For eight days we had not encountered ahuman being, and this singular warning of their vicinity had an effectextremely wild and impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on horseback, andsplashing through the pool rode up to the tents. He was enveloped in ahuge cloak, and his broad felt hat was weeping about his ears withthe drizzling moisture of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square-built, intelligent-looking man, who announced himself as leaderof an emigrant party encamped a mile in advance of us. About twentywagons, he said, were with him; the rest of his party were on theother side of the Big Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains ofchild-birth, and quarreling meanwhile among themselves. 

These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, although we hadfound abundant and melancholy traces of their progress throughout thewhole course of the journey. Sometimes we passed the grave of one whohad sickened and died on the way. The earth was usually torn up, andcovered thickly with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped this violation. Onemorning a piece of plank, standing upright on the summit of a grassyhill, attracted our notice, and riding up to it we found the followingwords very roughly traced upon it, apparently by a red-hot piece ofiron:

MARY ELLIS

DIED MAY 7TH, 1845. 

Aged two months. 

Such tokens were of common occurrence, nothing could speak more for thehardihood, or rather infatuation, of the adventurers, or the sufferingsthat await them upon the journey. 

We were late in breaking up our camp on the following morning, andscarcely had we ridden a mile when we saw, far in advance of us, drawnagainst the horizon, a line of objects stretching at regular intervalsalong the level edge of the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid themfrom sight, until, ascending it a quarter of an hour after, we saw closebefore us the emigrant caravan, with its heavy white wagons creeping onin their slow procession, and a large drove of cattle following behind. Half a dozen yellow-visaged Missourians, mounted on horseback, werecursing and shouting among them; their lank angular proportionsenveloped in brown homespun, evidently cut and adjusted by the handsof a domestic female tailor. As we approached, they greeted us withthe polished salutation: "How are ye, boys? Are ye for Oregon orCalifornia?"

As we pushed rapidly past the wagons, children's faces were thrustout from the white coverings to look at us; while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, or the buxom girl, seated in front, suspendedthe knitting on which most of them were engaged to stare at us withwondering curiosity. By the side of each wagon stalked the proprietor, urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered heavily along, inch byinch, on their interminable journey. It was easy to see that fear anddissension prevailed among them; some of the men--but these, with oneexception, were bachelors--looked wistfully upon us as we rode lightlyand swiftly past, and then impatiently at their own lumbering wagonsand heavy-gaited oxen. Others were unwilling to advance at all untilthe party they had left behind should have rejoined them. Many weremurmuring against the leader they had chosen, and wished to depose him;and this discontent was fermented by some ambitious spirits, who hadhopes of succeeding in his place. The women were divided between regretsfor the homes they had left and apprehension of the deserts and thesavages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and fondly hoped that we had taken a finalleave; but unluckily our companions' wagon stuck so long in a deep muddyditch that, before it was extricated, the van of the emigrant caravanappeared again, descending a ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagonplunged through the mud; and as it was nearly noon, and the placepromised shade and water, we saw with much gratification that they wereresolved to encamp. Soon the wagons were wheeled into a circle; thecattle were grazing over the meadow, and the men with sour, sullenfaces, were looking about for wood and water. They seemed to meet withbut indifferent success. As we left the ground, I saw a tall slouchingfellow with the nasal accent of "down east, " contemplating the contentsof his tin cup, which he had just filled with water. 

"Look here, you, " he said; "it's chock full of animals!"

The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraordinary varietyand profusion of animal and vegetable life. 

Riding up the little hill and looking back on the meadow, we couldeasily see that all was not right in the camp of the emigrants. Themen were crowded together, and an angry discussion seemed to be goingforward. R. Was missing from his wonted place in the line, and thecaptain told us that he had remained behind to get his horse shod by ablacksmith who was attached to the emigrant party. Something whisperedin our ears that mischief was on foot; we kept on, however, and comingsoon to a stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest and dine. Stillthe absentee lingered behind. At last, at the distance of a mile, heand his horse suddenly appeared, sharply defined against the sky on thesummit of a hill; and close behind, a huge white object rose slowly intoview. 

"What is that blockhead bringing with him now?"

A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and solemnly one behind theother, four long trains of oxen and four emigrant wagons rolled over thecrest of the declivity and gravely descended, while R. Rode in statein the van. It seems that, during the process of shoeing the horse, the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly broke into openrupture. Some insisted on pushing forward, some on remaining where theywere, and some on going back. Kearsley, their captain, threw up hiscommand in disgust. "And now, boys, " said he, "if any of you are forgoing ahead, just you come along with me. "

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small child, made upthe force of the "go-ahead" faction, and R. , with his usual proclivitytoward mischief, invited them to join our party. Fear of theIndians--for I can conceive of no other motive--must have induced himto court so burdensome an alliance. As may well be conceived, theserepeated instances of high-handed dealing sufficiently exasperatedus. In this case, indeed, the men who joined us were all that could bedesired; rude indeed in manner, but frank, manly, and intelligent. To tell them we could not travel with them was of course out of thequestion. I merely reminded Kearsley that if his oxen could not keep upwith our mules he must expect to be left behind, as we could not consentto be further delayed on the journey; but he immediately replied, thathis oxen "SHOULD keep up; and if they couldn't, why he allowed that he'dfind out how to make 'em!" Having availed myself of what satisfactioncould be derived from giving R. To understand my opinion of his conduct, I returned to our side of the camp. 

On the next day, as it chanced, our English companions broke theaxle-tree of their wagon, and down came the whole cumbrous machinelumbering into the bed of a brook! Here was a day's work cut out for us. Meanwhile, our emigrant associates kept on their way, and so vigorouslydid they urge forward their powerful oxen that, with the brokenaxle-tree and other calamities, it was full a week before we overtookthem; when at length we discovered them, one afternoon, crawling quietlyalong the sandy brink of the Platte. But meanwhile various incidentsoccurred to ourselves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey the Pawnees wouldattempt to rob us. We began therefore to stand guard in turn, dividingthe night into three watches, and appointing two men for each. Delorierand I held guard together. We did not march with military precision toand fro before the tents; our discipline was by no means so stringentand rigid. We wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and sat down by thefire; and Delorier, combining his culinary functions with his duties assentinel, employed himself in boiling the head of an antelope for ourmorning's repast. Yet we were models of vigilance in comparison withsome of the party; for the ordinary practice of the guard was toestablish himself in the most comfortable posture he could; lay hisrifle on the ground, and enveloping his nose in the blanket, meditateon his mistress, or whatever subject best pleased him. This is all wellenough when among Indians who do not habitually proceed further in theirhostility than robbing travelers of their horses and mules, though, indeed, a Pawnee's forebearance is not always to be trusted; but incertain regions farther to the west, the guard must beware how heexposes his person to the light of the fire, lest perchance somekeen-eyed skulking marksman should let fly a bullet or an arrow fromamid the darkness. 

Among various tales that circulated around our camp fire was a rathercurious one, told by Boisverd, and not inappropriate here. Boisverd wastrapping with several companions on the skirts of the Blackfoot country. The man on guard, well knowing that it behooved him to put forth hisutmost precaution, kept aloof from the firelight, and sat watchingintently on all sides. At length he was aware of a dark, crouchingfigure, stealing noiselessly into the circle of the light. He hastilycocked his rifle, but the sharp click of the lock caught the ear ofBlackfoot, whose senses were all on the alert. Raising his arrow, already fitted to the string, he shot in the direction of the sound. Sosure was his aim that he drove it through the throat of the unfortunateguard, and then, with a loud yell, bounded from the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and blowing over hisfire, it occurred to me that he might not prove the most efficientauxiliary in time of trouble. 

"Delorier, " said I, "would you run away if the Pawnees should fire atus?"

"Ah! oui, oui, monsieur!" he replied very decisively. 

I did not doubt the fact, but was a little surprised at the frankness ofthe confession. 

At this instant a most whimsical variety of voices--barks, howls, yelps, and whines--all mingled as it were together, sounded from the prairie, not far off, as if a whole conclave of wolves of every age and sex wereassembled there. Delorier looked up from his work with a laugh, andbegan to imitate this curious medley of sounds with a most ludicrousaccuracy. At this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, themusician being apparently indignant at the successful efforts of arival. They all proceeded from the throat of one little wolf, notlarger than a spaniel, seated by himself at some distance. He was ofthe species called the prairie wolf; a grim-visaged, but harmless littlebrute, whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and gnawing theropes of raw hide by which they are picketed around the camp. Butother beasts roam the prairies, far more formidable in aspect and incharacter. These are the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl weheard at intervals from far and near. 

At last I fell into a doze, and, awakening from it, found Delorierfast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of discipline, I was about tostimulate his vigilance by stirring him with the stock of my rifle; butcompassion prevailing, I determined to let him sleep awhile, and then toarouse him, and administer a suitable reproof for such a forgetfulnessof duty. Now and then I walked the rounds among the silent horses, tosee that all was right. The night was chill, damp, and dark, the dankgrass bending under the icy dewdrops. At the distance of a rod or twothe tents were invisible, and nothing could be seen but the obscurefigures of the horses, deeply breathing, and restlessly starting as theyslept, or still slowly champing the grass. Far off, beyond the blackoutline of the prairie, there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the glow of a conflagration; until at length the broad disk of themoon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, rose slowly uponthe darkness, flecked by one or two little clouds, and as the lightpoured over the gloomy plain, a fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as an unwelcome intruder. There was somethingimpressive and awful in the place and the hour; for I and the beastswere all that had consciousness for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. Two men on horsebackapproached us one morning, and we watched them with the curiosity andinterest that, upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter alwaysexcites. They were evidently whites, from their mode of riding, though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither of them carried a rifle. 

"Fools!" remarked Henry Chatillon, "to ride that way on the prairie;Pawnee find them--then they catch it!"

Pawnee HAD found them, and they had come very near "catching it";indeed, nothing saved them from trouble but the approach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them; a man named Turner, whom we had seen atWestport. He and his companion belonged to an emigrant party encampeda few miles in advance, and had returned to look for some stray oxen, leaving their rifles, with characteristic rashness or ignorance behindthem. Their neglect had nearly cost them dear; for just before wecame up, half a dozen Indians approached, and seeing them apparentlydefenseless, one of the rascals seized the bridle of Turner's finehorse, and ordered him to dismount. Turner was wholly unarmed; but theother jerked a little revolving pistol out of his pocket, at whichthe Pawnee recoiled; and just then some of our men appearing in thedistance, the whole party whipped their rugged little horses, and madeoff. In no way daunted, Turner foolishly persisted in going forward. 

Long after leaving him, and late this afternoon, in the midst of agloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly upon the great Pawnee trail, leading from their villages on the Platte to their war and huntinggrounds to the southward. Here every summer pass the motley concourse;thousands of savages, men, women, and children, horses and mules, ladenwith their weapons and implements, and an innumerable multitude ofunruly wolfish dogs, who have not acquired the civilized accomplishmentof barking, but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the greater part of the inhabitants arewandering over the plains, a treacherous cowardly banditti, who by athousand acts of pillage and murder have deserved summary chastisementat the hands of government. Last year a Dakota warrior performed asignal exploit at one of these villages. He approached it alone in themiddle of a dark night, and clambering up the outside of one of thelodges which are in the form of a half-sphere, he looked in at the roundhole made at the top for the escape of smoke. The dusky light from thesmoldering embers showed him the forms of the sleeping inmates; anddropping lightly through the opening, he unsheathed his knife, andstirring the fire coolly selected his victims. One by one he stabbed andscalped them, when a child suddenly awoke and screamed. He rushed fromthe lodge, yelled a Sioux war-cry, shouted his name in triumph anddefiance, and in a moment had darted out upon the dark prairie, leavingthe whole village behind him in a tumult, with the howling and baying ofdogs, the screams of women and the yells of the enraged warriors. 

Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, signalized himselfby a less bloody achievement. He and his men were good woodsmen, andwell skilled in the use of the rifle, but found themselves wholly out oftheir element on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buffalo andthey had very vague conceptions of his nature and appearance. On theday after they reached the Platte, looking toward a distant swell, theybeheld a multitude of little black specks in motion upon its surface. 

"Take your rifles, boys, " said Kearslcy, "and we'll have fresh meat forsupper. " This inducement was quite sufficient. The ten men left theirwagons and set out in hot haste, some on horseback and some on foot, inpursuit of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high grassy ridge shut thegame from view; but mounting it after half an hour's running and riding, they found themselves suddenly confronted by about thirty mountedPawnees! The amazement and consternation were mutual. Having nothing buttheir bows and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was come, andthe fate that they were no doubt conscious of richly deserving aboutto overtake them. So they began, one and all, to shout forth the mostcordial salutations of friendship, running up with extreme earnestnessto shake hands with the Missourians, who were as much rejoiced as theywere to escape the expected conflict. 

A low undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon before us. Thatday we rode ten consecutive hours, and it was dusk before we entered thehollows and gorges of these gloomy little hills. At length we gained thesummit, and the long expected valley of the Platte lay before us. Weall drew rein, and, gathering in a knot on the crest of the hill, satjoyfully looking down upon the prospect. It was right welcome; strangetoo, and striking to the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesqueor beautiful feature; nor had it any of the features of grandeur, otherthan its vast extent, its solitude, and its wilderness. For league afterleague a plain as level as a frozen lake was outspread beneath us;here and there the Platte, divided into a dozen threadlike sluices, wastraversing it, and an occasional clump of wood, rising in the midst likea shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the waste. No living thingwas moving throughout the vast landscape, except the lizards that dartedover the sand and through the rank grass and prickly-pear just at ourfeet. And yet stern and wild associations gave a singular interest tothe view; for here each man lives by the strength of his arm and thevalor of his heart. Here society is reduced to its original elements, the whole fabric of art and conventionality is struck rudely to pieces, and men find themselves suddenly brought back to the wants and resourcesof their original natures. 

We had passed the more toilsome and monotonous part of the journey; butfour hundred miles still intervened between us and Fort Laramie; and toreach that point cost us the travel of three additional weeks. Duringthe whole of this time we were passing up the center of a long narrowsandy plain, reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the RockyMountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken often into the wildest andmost fantastic forms, flanked the valley at the distance of a mile ortwo on the right and left; while beyond them lay a barren, tracklesswaste--The Great American Desert--extending for hundreds of miles to theArkansas on the one side, and the Missouri on the other. Before us andbehind us, the level monotony of the plain was unbroken as far as theeye could reach. Sometimes it glared in the sun, an expanse of hot, bare sand; sometimes it was veiled by long coarse grass. Huge skullsand whitening bones of buffalo were scattered everywhere; the groundwas tracked by myriads of them, and often covered with the circularindentations where the bulls had wallowed in the hot weather. From everygorge and ravine, opening from the hills, descended deep, well-wornpaths, where the buffalo issue twice a day in regular procession downto drink in the Platte. The river itself runs through the midst, a thinsheet of rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide, and scarce two feetdeep. Its low banks for the most part without a bush or a tree, are ofloose sand, with which the stream is so charged that it grates onthe teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, dreary andmonotonous enough, and yet the wild beasts and wild men that frequentthe valley of the Platte make it a scene of interest and excitement tothe traveler. Of those who have journeyed there, scarce one, perhaps, fails to look back with fond regret to his horse and his rifle. 

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a long procession ofsqualid savages approached our camp. Each was on foot, leading his horseby a rope of bull-hide. His attire consisted merely of a scanty cinctureand an old buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hungover his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a ridge of hairreaching over the crown from the center of the forehead, very much likethe long bristles on the back of a hyena, and he carried his bow andarrows in his hand, while his meager little horse was laden with driedbuffalo meat, the produce of his hunting. Such were the first specimensthat we met--and very indifferent ones they were--of the genuine savagesof the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encountered the day before, andbelonged to a large hunting party known to be ranging the prairie in thevicinity. They strode rapidly past, within a furlong of our tents, not pausing or looking toward us, after the manner of Indians whenmeditating mischief or conscious of ill-desert. I went out and met them;and had an amicable conference with the chief, presenting him withhalf a pound of tobacco, at which unmerited bounty he expressed muchgratification. These fellows, or some of their companions had committeda dastardly outrage upon an emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, out on horseback at a distance, were seized by them, but lashing theirhorses, they broke loose and fled. At this the Pawnees raised the yelland shot at them, transfixing the hindermost through the back withseveral arrows, while his companion galloped away and brought in thenews to his party. The panic-stricken emigrants remained for severaldays in camp, not daring even to send out in quest of the dead body. 

The reader will recollect Turner, the man whose narrow escape wasmentioned not long since. We heard that the men, whom the entreatiesof his wife induced to go in search of him, found him leisurely drivingalong his recovered oxen, and whistling in utter contempt of the Pawneenation. His party was encamped within two miles of us; but we passedthem that morning, while the men were driving in the oxen, and the womenpacking their domestic utensils and their numerous offspring in thespacious patriarchal wagons. As we looked back we saw their caravandragging its slow length along the plain; wearily toiling on its way, tofound new empires in the West. 

Our New England climate is mild and equable compared with that of thePlatte. This very morning, for instance, was close and sultry, the sunrising with a faint oppressive heat; when suddenly darkness gathered inthe west, and a furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in our faces, icy cold, and urged with such demoniac vehemence that it felt like astorm of needles. It was curious to see the horses; they faced aboutin extreme displeasure, holding their tails like whipped dogs, andshivering as the angry gusts, howling louder than a concert of wolves, swept over us. Wright's long train of mules came sweeping round beforethe storm like a flight of brown snowbirds driven by a winter tempest. Thus we all remained stationary for some minutes, crouching close to ourhorses' necks, much too surly to speak, though once the captain lookedup from between the collars of his coat, his face blood-red, and themuscles of his mouth contracted by the cold into a most ludicrous grinof agony. He grumbled something that sounded like a curse, directedas we believed, against the unhappy hour when he had first thought ofleaving home. The thing was too good to last long; and the instant thepuffs of wind subsided we erected our tents, and remained in camp forthe rest of a gloomy and lowering day. The emigrants also encamped nearat hand. We, being first on the ground, had appropriated all the woodwithin reach; so that our fire alone blazed cheerfully. Around it soongathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in the drizzling rain. Conspicuous among them were two or three of the half-savage men whospend their reckless lives in trapping among the Rocky Mountains, orin trading for the Fur Company in the Indian villages. They were allof Canadian extraction; their hard, weather-beaten faces and bushymustaches looked out from beneath the hoods of their white capotes witha bad and brutish expression, as if their owner might be the willingagent of any villainy. And such in fact is the character of many ofthese men. 

On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow-travelers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the alliance; it materially diminished the serious fatigueof standing guard; for the party being now more numerous, there werelonger intervals between each man's turns of duty. 

CHAPTER VII

THE BUFFALO

Four days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo! Last year's signs of themwere provokingly abundant; and wood being extremely scarce, we found anadmirable substitute in bois de vache, which burns exactly like peat, producing no unpleasant effects. The wagons one morning had left thecamp; Shaw and I were already on horseback, but Henry Chatillon stillsat cross-legged by the dead embers of the fire, playing pensively withthe lock of his rifle, while his sturdy Wyandotte pony stood quietlybehind him, looking over his head. At last he got up, patted the neck ofthe pony (whom, from an exaggerated appreciation of his merits, he hadchristened "Five Hundred Dollar"), and then mounted with a melancholyair. 

"What is it, Henry?"

"Ah, I feel lonesome; I never been here before; but I see away yonderover the buttes, and down there on the prairie, black--all black withbuffalo!"

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of an antelope; untilat the distance of a mile or two on the right, the tall white wagonsand the little black specks of horsemen were just visible, so slowlyadvancing that they seemed motionless; and far on the left rose thebroken line of scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain waved withtall rank grass that swept our horses' bellies; it swayed to and fro inbillows with the light breeze, and far and near antelope and wolves weremoving through it, the hairy backs of the latter alternately appearingand disappearing as they bounded awkwardly along; while the antelope, with the simple curiosity peculiar to them, would often approach asclosely, their little horns and white throats just visible above thegrass tops, as they gazed eagerly at us with their round black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the wolves. Henryattentively scrutinized the surrounding landscape; at length he gave ashout, and called on me to mount again, pointing in the direction of thesand-hills. A mile and a half from us, two minute black specksslowly traversed the face of one of the bare glaring declivities, anddisappeared behind the summit. "Let us go!" cried Henry, belaboring thesides of Five Hundred Dollar; and I following in his wake, we gallopedrapidly through the rank grass toward the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, widening as itissued on the prairie. We entered it, and galloping up, in a moment weresurrounded by the bleak sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare;the rest were scantily clothed with clumps of grass, and various uncouthplants, conspicuous among which appeared the reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with numberless ravines; and as the sky had suddenlydarkened, and a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and thedreary hills looked doubly wild and desolate. But Henry's face was alleagerness. He tore off a little hair from the piece of buffalo robeunder his saddle, and threw it up, to show the course of the wind. Itblew directly before us. The game were therefore to windward, and it wasnecessary to make our best speed to get around them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and galloping away through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a snake among the hills, and so deepthat it completely concealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancingthrough the shrubbery at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his rein, and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a mile distant, on theoutline of the farthest hill, a long procession of buffalo were walking, in Indian file, with the utmost gravity and deliberation; then moreappeared, clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascending, onebehind the other, the grassy slope of another hill; then a shaggy headand a pair of short broken horns appeared issuing out of a ravine closeat hand, and with a slow, stately step, one by one, the enormous brutescame into view, taking their way across the valley, wholly unconsciousof an enemy. In a moment Henry was worming his way, lying flat onthe ground, through grass and prickly-pears, toward his unsuspectingvictims. He had with him both my rifle and his own. He was soon out ofsight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley. For a longtime all was silent. I sat holding his horse, and wondering what he wasabout, when suddenly, in rapid succession, came the sharp reports of thetwo rifles, and the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace intoa clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of the hill. Henryrose to his feet, and stood looking after them. 

"You have missed them, " said I. 

"Yes, " said Henry; "let us go. " He descended into the ravine, loaded therifles, and mounted his horse. 

We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd was out of sight whenwe reached the top, but lying on the grass not far off, was one quitelifeless, and another violently struggling in the death agony. 

"You see I miss him!" remarked Henry. He had fired from a distance ofmore than a hundred and fifty yards, and both balls had passed throughthe lungs--the true mark in shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. Tying our horsesto the horns of the victims, Henry began the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the science of a connoisseur, while I vainlyendeavored to imitate him. Old Hendrick recoiled with horror andindignation when I endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of rawhide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at the back of thesaddle. After some difficulty we overcame his scruples; and heavilyburdened with the more eligible portions of the buffalo, we set out onour return. Scarcely had we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges andravines, and issued upon the open prairie, when the pricking sleet camedriving, gust upon gust, directly in our faces. It was strangelydark, though wanting still an hour of sunset. The freezing storm soonpenetrated to the skin, but the uneasy trot of our heavy-gaited horseskept us warm enough, as we forced them unwillingly in the teeth of thesleet and rain, by the powerful suasion of our Indian whips. The prairiein this place was hard and level. A flourishing colony of prairie dogshad burrowed into it in every direction, and the little mounds offresh earth around their holes were about as numerous as the hills ina cornfield; but not a yelp was to be heard; not the nose of a singlecitizen was visible; all had retired to the depths of their burrows, and we envied them their dry and comfortable habitations. An hour'shard riding showed us our tent dimly looming through the storm, oneside puffed out by the force of the wind, and the other collapsed inproportion, while the disconsolate horses stood shivering close around, and the wind kept up a dismal whistling in the boughs of three oldhalf-dead trees above. Shaw, like a patriarch, sat on his saddle in theentrance, with a pipe in his mouth, and his arms folded, contemplating, with cool satisfaction, the piles of meat that we flung on the groundbefore him. A dark and dreary night succeeded; but the sun rose withheat so sultry and languid that the captain excused himself on thataccount from waylaying an old buffalo bull, who with stupid gravity waswalking over the prairie to drink at the river. So much for the climateof the Platte!

But it was not the weather alone that had produced this sudden abatementof the sportsmanlike zeal which the captain had always professed. He hadbeen out on the afternoon before, together with several members of hisparty; but their hunting was attended with no other result than theloss of one of their best horses, severely injured by Sorel, in vainlychasing a wounded bull. The captain, whose ideas of hard riding were allderived from transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement atthe feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dashing at full speedup and down the sides of precipitous hills, lashing his horse withthe recklessness of a Rocky Mountain rider. Unfortunately for the pooranimal he was the property of R. , against whom Sorel entertained anunbounded aversion. The captain himself, it seemed, had also attemptedto "run" a buffalo, but though a good and practiced horseman, he hadsoon given over the attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted atthe nature of the ground he was required to ride over. 

Nothing unusual occurred on that day; but on the following morning HenryChatillon, looking over the oceanlike expanse, saw near the foot of thedistant hills something that looked like a band of buffalo. He was notsure, he said, but at all events, if they were buffalo, there was a finechance for a race. Shaw and I at once determined to try the speed of ourhorses. 

"Come, captain; we'll see which can ride hardest, a Yankee or anIrishman. "

But the captain maintained a grave and austere countenance. He mountedhis led horse, however, though very slowly; and we set out at a trot. The game appeared about three miles distant. As we proceeded the captainmade various remarks of doubt and indecision; and at length declared hewould have nothing to do with such a breakneck business; protesting thathe had ridden plenty of steeple-chases in his day, but he never knewwhat riding was till he found himself behind a band of buffalo daybefore yesterday. "I am convinced, " said the captain, "that, 'running'is out of the question. * Take my advice now and don't attempt it. It'sdangerous, and of no use at all. "

 *The method of hunting called "running" consists in attacking the buffalo on horseback and shooting him with bullets or arrows when at full-speed. In "approaching, " the hunter conceals himself and crawls on the ground toward the game, or lies in wait to kill them. 

"Then why did you come out with us? What do you mean to do?"

"I shall 'approach, '" replied the captain. 

"You don't mean to 'approach' with your pistols, do you? We have all ofus left our rifles in the wagons. "

The captain seemed staggered at the suggestion. In his characteristicindecision, at setting out, pistols, rifles, "running" and "approaching"were mingled in an inextricable medley in his brain. He trotted on insilence between us for a while; but at length he dropped behind andslowly walked his horse back to rejoin the party. Shaw and I kept on;when lo! as we advanced, the band of buffalo were transformed intocertain clumps of tall bushes, dotting the prairie for a considerabledistance. At this ludicrous termination of our chase, we followed theexample of our late ally, and turned back toward the party. Wewere skirting the brink of a deep ravine, when we saw Henry and thebroad-chested pony coming toward us at a gallop. 

"Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Laramie!" shouted Henry, long before he came up. We had for some days expected this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois of Fort Laramie. He had come down the riverwith the buffalo robes and the beaver, the produce of the last winter'strading. I had among our baggage a letter which I wished to commit totheir hands; so requesting Henry to detain the boats if he could untilmy return, I set out after the wagons. They were about four miles inadvance. In half an hour I overtook them, got the letter, trotted backupon the trail, and looking carefully, as I rode, saw a patch of broken, storm-blasted trees, and moving near them some little black specks likemen and horses. Arriving at the place, I found a strange assembly. Theboats, eleven in number, deep-laden with the skins, hugged close tothe shore, to escape being borne down by the swift current. The rowers, swarthy ignoble Mexicans, turned their brutish faces upward to look, asI reached the bank. Papin sat in the middle of one of the boats upon thecanvas covering that protected the robes. He was a stout, robust fellow, with a little gray eye, that had a peculiarly sly twinkle. "Frederic"also stretched his tall rawboned proportions close by the bourgeois, and "mountain-men" completed the group; some lounging in the boats, somestrolling on shore; some attired in gayly painted buffalo robes, likeIndian dandies; some with hair saturated with red paint, and beplasteredwith glue to their temples; and one bedaubed with vermilion upon hisforehead and each cheek. They were a mongrel race; yet the French bloodseemed to predominate; in a few, indeed, might be seen the black snakyeye of the Indian half-breed, and one and all, they seemed to aim atassimilating themselves to their savage associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois, and delivered the letter; then theboats swung round into the stream and floated away. They had reasonfor haste, for already the voyage from Fort Laramie had occupied a fullmonth, and the river was growing daily more shallow. Fifty times aday the boats had been aground, indeed; those who navigate the Platteinvariably spend half their time upon sand-bars. Two of these boats, the property of private traders, afterward separating from the rest, got hopelessly involved in the shallows, not very far from the Pawneevillages, and were soon surrounded by a swarm of the inhabitants. Theycarried off everything that they considered valuable, including most ofthe robes; and amused themselves by tying up the men left on guard andsoundly whipping them with sticks. 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. Among the emigrantsthere was an overgrown boy, some eighteen years old, with a head asround and about as large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyedhis face of a corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, tied underhis chin with a handkerchief; his body was short and stout, but hislegs of disproportioned and appalling length. I observed him at sunset, breasting the hill with gigantic strides, and standing against the skyon the summit, like a colossal pair of tongs. In a moment after we heardhim screaming frantically behind the ridge, and nothing doubting thathe was in the clutches of Indians or grizzly bears, some of the partycaught up their rifles and ran to the rescue. His outcries, however, proved but an ebullition of joyous excitement; he had chased two littlewolf pups to their burrow, and he was on his knees, grubbing away like adog at the mouth of the hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the camp. It was histurn to hold the middle guard; but no sooner was he called up, than hecoolly arranged a pair of saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head uponthem, closed his eyes, opened his mouth and fell asleep. The guard onour side of the camp, thinking it no part of his duty to look after thecattle of the emigrants, contented himself with watching our own horsesand mules; the wolves, he said, were unusually noisy; but still nomischief was anticipated until the sun rose, and not a hoof or horn wasin sight! The cattle were gone! While Tom was quietly slumbering, thewolves had driven them away. 

Then we reaped the fruits of R. 's precious plan of traveling in companywith emigrants. To leave them in their distress was not to be thoughtof, and we felt bound to wait until the cattle could be searched for, and, if possible, recovered. But the reader may be curious to knowwhat punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By the wholesome law ofthe prairie, he who falls asleep on guard is condemned to walk allday leading his horse by the bridle, and we found much fault withour companions for not enforcing such a sentence on the offender. Nevertheless had he been of our party, I have no doubt he would in likemanner have escaped scot-free. But the emigrants went farther than mereforebearance; they decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard withoutfalling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and henceforward hisslumbers were unbroken. Establishing such a premium on drowsiness couldhave no very beneficial effect upon the vigilance of our sentinels; forit is far from agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to feelyour slumbers interrupted by the butt of a rifle nudging your side, anda sleepy voice growling in your ear that you must get up, to shiver andfreeze for three weary hours at midnight. 

"Buffalo! buffalo!" It was but a grim old bull, roaming the prairie byhimself in misanthropic seclusion; but there might be more behind thehills. Dreading the monotony and languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddledour horses, buckled our holsters in their places, and set out with HenryChatillon in search of the game. Henry, not intending to take part inthe chase, but merely conducting us, carried his rifle with him, whilewe left ours behind as incumbrances. We rode for some five or six miles, and saw no living thing but wolves, snakes, and prairie dogs. 

"This won't do at all, " said Shaw. 

"What won't do?"

"There's no wood about here to make a litter for the wounded man; I havean idea that one of us will need something of the sort before the day isover. "

There was some foundation for such an apprehension, for the ground wasnone of the best for a race, and grew worse continually as we proceeded;indeed it soon became desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills anddeep hollows, cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At length, amile in advance, we saw a band of bulls. Some were scattered grazingover a green declivity, while the rest were crowded more denselytogether in the wide hollow below. Making a circuit to keep out ofsight, we rode toward them until we ascended a hill within a furlong ofthem, beyond which nothing intervened that could possibly screen us fromtheir view. We dismounted behind the ridge just out of sight, drew oursaddle-girths, examined our pistols, and mounting again rode overthe hill, and descended at a canter toward them, bending close toour horses' necks. Instantly they took the alarm; those on the hilldescended; those below gathered into a mass, and the whole got inmotion, shouldering each other along at a clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to full speed; and as the herd rushed, crowding andtrampling in terror through an opening in the hills, we were close attheir heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust. But as we drew near, their alarm and speed increased; our horses showed signs of the utmostfear, bounding violently aside as we approached, and refusing toenter among the herd. The buffalo now broke into several small bodies, scampering over the hills in different directions, and I lost sight ofShaw; neither of us knew where the other had gone. Old Pontiac ran likea frantic elephant up hill and down hill, his ponderous hoofs strikingthe prairie like sledge-hammers. He showed a curious mixture ofeagerness and terror, straining to overtake the panic-stricken herd, butconstantly recoiling in dismay as we drew near. The fugitives, indeed, offered no very attractive spectacle, with their enormous size andweight, their shaggy manes and the tattered remnants of their lastwinter's hair covering their backs in irregular shreds and patches, andflying off in the wind as they ran. At length I urged my horse closebehind a bull, and after trying in vain, by blows and spurring, tobring him alongside, I shot a bullet into the buffalo from thisdisadvantageous position. At the report, Pontiac swerved so much that Iwas again thrown a little behind the game. The bullet, entering too muchin the rear, failed to disable the bull, for a buffalo requires to beshot at particular points, or he will certainly escape. The herd ran upa hill, and I followed in pursuit. As Pontiac rushed headlong down onthe other side, I saw Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on the right, at a leisurely gallop; and in front, the buffalo were just disappearingbehind the crest of the next hill, their short tails erect, and theirhoofs twinkling through a cloud of dust. 

At that moment, I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to me; but the musclesof a stronger arm than mine could not have checked at once the furiouscourse of Pontiac, whose mouth was as insensible as leather. Added tothis, I rode him that morning with a common snaffle, having the daybefore, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from my bridle thecurb which I ordinarily used. A stronger and hardier brute never trodthe prairie; but the novel sight of the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at full speed he was almost incontrollable. Gaining the top ofthe ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo; they had all vanished amid theintricacies of the hills and hollows. Reloading my pistols, in the bestway I could, I galloped on until I saw them again scuttling along atthe base of the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down went old Pontiacamong them, scattering them to the right and left, and then we hadanother long chase. About a dozen bulls were before us, scouring overthe hills, rushing down the declivities with tremendous weight andimpetuosity, and then laboring with a weary gallop upward. StillPontiac, in spite of spurring and beating, would not close with them. One bull at length fell a little behind the rest, and by dint of mucheffort I urged my horse within six or eight yards of his side. His backwas darkened with sweat; he was panting heavily, while his tongue lolledout a foot from his jaws. Gradually I came up abreast of him, urgingPontiac with leg and rein nearer to his side, then suddenly he did whatbuffalo in such circumstances will always do; he slackened his gallop, and turning toward us, with an aspect of mingled rage and distress, lowered his huge shaggy head for a charge. Pontiac with a snort, leapedaside in terror, nearly throwing me to the ground, as I was whollyunprepared for such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion tostrike him on the head, but thinking better of it fired the bullet afterthe bull, who had resumed his flight, then drew rein and determinedto rejoin my companions. It was high time. The breath blew hard fromPontiac's nostrils, and the sweat rolled in big drops down his sides;I myself felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself (and Iredeemed the pledge) to take my revenge at a future opportunity, Ilooked round for some indications to show me where I was, and whatcourse I ought to pursue; I might as well have looked for landmarks inthe midst of the ocean. How many miles I had run or in what direction, I had no idea; and around me the prairie was rolling in steep swellsand pitches, without a single distinctive feature to guide me. I hada little compass hung at my neck; and ignorant that the Platte at thispoint diverged considerably from its easterly course, I thought that bykeeping to the northward I should certainly reach it. So I turnedand rode about two hours in that direction. The prairie changed as Iadvanced, softening away into easier undulations, but nothing like thePlatte appeared, nor any sign of a human being; the same wild endlessexpanse lay around me still; and to all appearance I was as far from myobject as ever. I began now to consider myself in danger of beinglost; and therefore, reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share ofwoodcraft that I possessed (if that term he applicable upon the prairie)to extricate me. Looking round, it occurred to me that the buffalo mightprove my best guides. I soon found one of the paths made by them intheir passage to the river; it ran nearly at right angles to my course;but turning my horse's head in the direction it indicated, his freergait and erected ears assured me that I was right. 

But in the meantime my ride had been by no means a solitary one. The whole face of the country was dotted far and wide with countlesshundreds of buffalo. They trooped along in files and columns, bullscows, and calves, on the green faces of the declivities in front. Theyscrambled away over the hills to the right and left; and far off, thepale blue swells in the extreme distance were dotted with innumerablespecks. Sometimes I surprised shaggy old bulls grazing alone, orsleeping behind the ridges I ascended. They would leap up at myapproach, stare stupidly at me through their tangled manes, and thengallop heavily away. The antelope were very numerous; and as they arealways bold when in the neighborhood of buffalo, they would approachquite near to look at me, gazing intently with their great round eyes, then suddenly leap aside, and stretch lightly away over the prairie, asswiftly as a racehorse. Squalid, ruffianlike wolves sneaked through thehollows and sandy ravines. Several times I passed through villages ofprairie dogs, who sat, each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his pawsbefore him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away most vehemently, energetically whisking his little tail with every squeaking cry heuttered. Prairie dogs are not fastidious in their choice of companions;various long, checkered snakes were sunning themselves in the midst ofthe village, and demure little gray owls, with a large white ring aroundeach eye, were perched side by side with the rightful inhabitants. Theprairie teemed with life. Again and again I looked toward the crowdedhillsides, and was sure I saw horsemen; and riding near, with a mixtureof hope and dread, for Indians were abroad, I found them transformedinto a group of buffalo. There was nothing in human shape amid all thisvast congregation of brute forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie seemed changed; onlya wolf or two glided past at intervals, like conscious felons, neverlooking to the right or left. Being now free from anxiety, I was atleisure to observe minutely the objects around me; and here, for thefirst time, I noticed insects wholly different from any of the varietiesfound farther to the eastward. Gaudy butterflies fluttered about myhorse's head; strangely formed beetles, glittering with metallic luster, were crawling upon plants that I had never seen before; multitudes oflizards, too, were darting like lightning over the sand. 

I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost me a long rideon the buffalo path before I saw from the ridge of a sand-hill the palesurface of the Platte glistening in the midst of its desert valleys, andthe faint outline of the hills beyond waving along the sky. From whereI stood, not a tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible throughoutthe whole extent of the sun-scorched landscape. In half an hour I cameupon the trail, not far from the river; and seeing that the party hadnot yet passed, I turned eastward to meet them, old Pontiac's longswinging trot again assuring me that I was right in doing so. Havingbeen slightly ill on leaving camp in the morning six or seven hours ofrough riding had fatigued me extremely. I soon stopped, therefore; flungmy saddle on the ground, and with my head resting on it, and my horse'strail-rope tied loosely to my arm, lay waiting the arrival of theparty, speculating meanwhile on the extent of the injuries Pontiac hadreceived. At length the white wagon coverings rose from the verge of theplain. By a singular coincidence, almost at the same moment two horsemenappeared coming down from the hills. They were Shaw and Henry, who hadsearched for me a while in the morning, but well knowing the futility ofthe attempt in such a broken country, had placed themselves on the topof the highest hill they could find, and picketing their horses nearthem, as a signal to me, had laid down and fallen asleep. The straycattle had been recovered, as the emigrants told us, about noon. Beforesunset, we pushed forward eight miles farther. 

JUNE 7, 1846. --Four men are missing; R. , Sorel and two emigrants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and have not yet made theirappearance; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell. 

I find the above in my notebook, and well remember the council held onthe occasion. Our fire was the scene of it; or the palpable superiorityof Henry Chatillon's experience and skill made him the resort of thewhole camp upon every question of difficulty. He was molding bulletsat the fire, when the captain drew near, with a perturbed and care-wornexpression of countenance, faithfully reflected on the heavy featuresof Jack, who followed close behind. Then emigrants came straggling fromtheir wagons toward the common center; various suggestions were made toaccount for the absence of the four men, and one or two of the emigrantsdeclared that when out after the cattle they had seen Indians doggingthem, and crawling like wolves along the ridges of the hills. At thistime the captain slowly shook his head with double gravity, and solemnlyremarked:

"It's a serious thing to be traveling through this cursed wilderness";an opinion in which Jack immediately expressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would not commit himself by declaring any positive opinion. 

"Maybe he only follow the buffalo too far; maybe Indian kill him; maybehe got lost; I cannot tell!"

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content; the emigrants, notin the least alarmed, though curious to know what had become of theircomrades, walked back to their wagons and the captain betook himselfpensively to his tent. Shaw and I followed his example. 

"It will be a bad thing for our plans, " said he as we entered, "if thesefellows don't get back safe. The captain is as helpless on the prairieas a child. We shall have to take him and his brother in tow; they willhang on us like lead. "

"The prairie is a strange place, " said I. "A month ago I should havethought it rather a startling affair to have an acquaintance ride out inthe morning and lose his scalp before night, but here it seems the mostnatural thing in the world; not that I believe that R. Has lost hisyet. "

If a man is constitutionally liable to nervous apprehensions, a tour onthe distant prairies would prove the best prescription; for though whenin the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains he may at times find himselfplaced in circumstances of some danger, I believe that few ever breathethat reckless atmosphere without becoming almost indifferent to any evilchance that may befall themselves or their friends. 

Shaw had a propensity for luxurious indulgence. He spread his blanketwith the utmost accuracy on the ground, picked up the sticks and stonesthat he thought might interfere with his comfort, adjusted his saddle toserve as a pillow, and composed himself for his night's rest. I had thefirst guard that evening; so, taking my rifle, I went out of the tent. It was perfectly dark. A brisk wind blew down from the hills, andthe sparks from the fire were streaming over the prairie. One of theemigrants, named Morton, was my companion; and laying our rifles on thegrass, we sat down together by the fire. Morton was a Kentuckian, anathletic fellow, with a fine intelligent face, and in his manners andconversation he showed the essential characteristics of a gentleman. Our conversation turned on the pioneers of his gallant native State. Thethree hours of our watch dragged away at last, and we went to call upthe relief. 

R. 's guard succeeded mine. He was absent; but the captain, anxious lestthe camp should be left defenseless, had volunteered to stand in hisplace; so I went to wake him up. There was no occasion for it, for thecaptain had been awake since nightfall. A fire was blazing outside ofthe tent, and by the light which struck through the canvas, I saw himand Jack lying on their backs, with their eyes wide open. The captainresponded instantly to my call; he jumped up, seized the double-barreledrifle, and came out of the tent with an air of solemn determination, asif about to devote himself to the safety of the party. I went and laydown, not doubting that for the next three hours our slumbers would beguarded with sufficient vigilance. 

CHAPTER VIII

TAKING FRENCH LEAVE

On the 8th of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached the South Fork of thePlatte, at the usual fording place. For league upon league the desertuniformity of the prospect was almost unbroken; the hills were dottedwith little tufts of shriveled grass, but betwixt these the white sandwas glaring in the sun; and the channel of the river, almost on a levelwith the plain, was but one great sand-bed, about half a mile wide. Itwas covered with water, but so scantily that the bottom was scarcelyhidden; for, wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte does not atthis point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping near its bank, we gatheredbois de vache, and made a meal of buffalo meat. Far off, on the otherside, was a green meadow, where we could see the white tents and wagonsof an emigrant camp; and just opposite to us we could discern a group ofmen and animals at the water's edge. Four or five horsemen soon enteredthe river, and in ten minutes had waded across and clambered up theloose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin and swarthy, withcare-worn, anxious faces and lips rigidly compressed. They had goodcause for anxiety; it was three days since they first encamped here, andon the night of their arrival they had lost 123 of their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, through the neglect of the man on guard. Thisdiscouraging and alarming calamity was not the first that had overtakenthem. Since leaving the settlements, they had met with nothing butmisfortune. Some of their party had died; one man had been killed by thePawnees; and about a week before, they had been plundered by the Dakotasof all their best horses, the wretched animals on which our visitorswere mounted being the only ones that were left. They had encamped, theytold us, near sunset, by the side of the Platte, and their oxen werescattered over the meadow, while the band of horses were feeding alittle farther off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were alive with aswarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred in number, who, with atremendous yell, came pouring down toward the camp, rushing up within afew rods, to the great terror of the emigrants; but suddenly wheeling, they swept around the band of horses, and in five minutes haddisappeared with their prey through the openings of the hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw four othermen approaching. They proved to be R. And his companions, who hadencountered no mischance of any kind, but had only wandered too farin pursuit of the game. They said they had seen no Indians, but only"millions of buffalo"; and both R. And Sorel had meat dangling behindtheir saddles. 

The emigrants re-crossed the river, and we prepared to follow. Firstthe heavy ox-wagons plunged down the bank, and dragged slowly over thesand-beds; sometimes the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wetted by thethin sheet of water; and the next moment the river would be boilingagainst their sides, and eddying fiercely around the wheels. Inch byinch they receded from the shore, dwindling every moment, until atlength they seemed to be floating far in the very middle of the river. A more critical experiment awaited us; for our little mule-cart wasbut ill-fitted for the passage of so swift a stream. We watched it withanxiety till it seemed to be a little motionless white speck in themidst of the waters; and it WAS motionless, for it had stuck fast in aquicksand. The little mules were losing their footing, the wheels weresinking deeper and deeper, and the water began to rise through thebottom and drench the goods within. All of us who had remained on thehither bank galloped to the rescue; the men jumped into the water, adding their strength to that of the mules, until by much effort thecart was extricated, and conveyed in safety across. 

As we gained the other bank, a rough group of men surrounded us. Theywere not robust, nor large of frame, yet they had an aspect of hardyendurance. Finding at home no scope for their fiery energies, they hadbetaken themselves to the prairie; and in them seemed to be revived, with redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled their ancestors, scarce more lawless than themselves, from the German forests, toinundate Europe and break to pieces the Roman empire. A fortnightafterward this unfortunate party passed Fort Laramie, while we werethere. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, though they hadremained encamped a week in search of them; and they had been compelledto abandon a great part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cowsand heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their journey, the most toilsome and hazardous part of which lay still before them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may sometimes see theshattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, many of them no doubtthe relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must haveencountered strange vicissitudes. Imported, perhaps, originally fromEngland; then, with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne acrossthe Alleghenies to the remote wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky; then toIllinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away in the familywagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern privationsof the way are little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung outto scorch and crack upon the hot prairie. 

We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a mile, when R. Calledout from the rear:

"We'll camp here. "

"Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It is not three o'clock yet. "

"We'll camp here!"

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier was in advance with hiscart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling from the track, he began to turnhis own team in the same direction. 

"Go on, Delorier, " and the little cart advanced again. As we rode on, wesoon heard the wagon of our confederates creaking and jolting on behindus, and the driver, Wright, discharging a furious volley of oathsagainst his mules; no doubt venting upon them the wrath which he darednot direct against a more appropriate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our English friend wasby no means partial to us, and we thought we discovered in his conduct adeliberate intention to thwart and annoy us, especially by retardingthe movements of the party, which he knew that we, being Yankees, wereanxious to quicken. Therefore, he would insist on encamping at allunseasonable hours, saying that fifteen miles was a sufficient day'sjourney. Finding our wishes systematically disregarded, we took thedirection of affairs into our own hands. Keeping always in advance, tothe inexpressible indignation of R. , we encamped at what time and placewe thought proper, not much caring whether the rest chose to follow ornot. They always did so, however, pitching their tents near ours, withsullen and wrathful countenances. 

Traveling together on these agreeable terms did not suit our tastes; forsome time we had meditated a separation. The connection with this partyhad cost us various delays and inconveniences; and the glaring wantof courtesy and good sense displayed by their virtual leader did notdispose us to bear these annoyances with much patience. We resolved toleave camp early in the morning, and push forward as rapidly as possiblefor Fort Laramie, which we hoped to reach, by hard traveling, in four orfive days. The captain soon trotted up between us, and we explained ourintentions. 

"A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word!" he remarked. Then hebegan to enlarge upon the enormity of the design. The most prominentimpression in his mind evidently was that we were acting a base andtreacherous part in deserting his party, in what he considered a verydangerous stage of the journey. To palliate the atrocity of our conduct, we ventured to suggest that we were only four in number while his partystill included sixteen men; and as, moreover, we were to go forwardand they were to follow, at least a full proportion of the perils heapprehended would fall upon us. But the austerity of the captain'sfeatures would not relax. "A very extraordinary proceeding, gentlemen!"and repeating this, he rode off to confer with his principal. 

By good luck, we found a meadow of fresh grass, and a large pool ofrain-water in the midst of it. We encamped here at sunset. Plenty ofbuffalo skulls were lying around, bleaching in the sun; and sprinkledthickly among the grass was a great variety of strange flowers. I hadnothing else to do, and so gathering a handful, I sat down on a buffaloskull to study them. Although the offspring of a wilderness, theirtexture was frail and delicate, and their colors extremely rich; purewhite, dark blue, and a transparent crimson. One traveling in thiscountry seldom has leisure to think of anything but the stern featuresof the scenery and its accompaniments, or the practical details of eachday's journey. Like them, he and his thoughts grow hard and rough. Butnow these flowers suddenly awakened a train of associations as alien tothe rude scene around me as they were themselves; and for the moment mythoughts went back to New England. A throng of fair and well-rememberedfaces rose, vividly as life, before me. "There are good things, " thoughtI, "in the savage life, but what can it offer to replace those powerfuland ennobling influences that can reach unimpaired over more than threethousand miles of mountains, forests and deserts?"

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down; we harnessed ourbest horses to the cart and left the camp. But first we shook handswith our friends the emigrants, who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though some others of the party might easily have been consoled had weencountered an Indian war party on the way. The captain and his brotherwere standing on the top of a hill, wrapped in their plaids, likespirits of the mist, keeping an anxious eye on the band of horses below. We waved adieu to them as we rode off the ground. The captain repliedwith a salutation of the utmost dignity, which Jack tried to imitate;but being little practiced in the gestures of polite society, his effortwas not a very successful one. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but here we came toa stop. Old Hendrick was in the shafts, and being the very incarnationof perverse and brutish obstinacy, he utterly refused to move. Delorierlashed and swore till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling to himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw afavorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he struck out under theshaft with such cool malignity of intention that Delorier only escapedthe blow by a sudden skip into the air, such as no one but a Frenchmancould achieve. Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sidesat once. The brute stood still for a while till he could bear it nolonger, when all at once he began to kick and plunge till he threatenedthe utter demolition of the cart and harness. We glanced back at thecamp, which was in full sight. Our companions, inspired by emulation, were leveling their tents and driving in their cattle and horses. 

"Take the horse out, " said I. 

I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hendrick; the formerwas harnessed to the cart in an instant. "Avance donc!" cried Delorier. Pontiac strode up the hill, twitching the little cart after him as ifit were a feather's weight; and though, as we gained the top, we saw thewagons of our deserted comrades just getting into motion, we had littlefear that they could overtake us. Leaving the trail, we struck directlyacross the country, and took the shortest cut to reach the main streamof the Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We skirted itssides until we found them less abrupt, and then plunged through the bestway we could. Passing behind the sandy ravines called "Ash Hollow, " westopped for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water; butsoon resumed our journey, and some hours before sunset were descendingthe ravines and gorges opening downward upon the Platte to the west ofAsh Hollow. Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand; the sun scorchedlike fire, and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes. 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great meadow, dotted with hundreds ofcattle, and beyond them an emigrant encampment. A party of about a dozencame out to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and suspiciousfaces. Seeing four men, different in appearance and equipment fromthemselves, emerging from the hills, they had taken us for the vanof the much-dreaded Mormons, whom they were very apprehensive ofencountering. We made known our true character, and then they greetedus cordially. They expressed much surprise that so small a party shouldventure to traverse that region, though in fact such attempts are notunfrequently made by trappers and Indian traders. We rode with them totheir camp. The wagons, some fifty in number, with here and there a tentintervening, were arranged as usual in a circle; in the area within thebest horses were picketed, and the whole circumference was glowing withthe dusky light of the fires, displaying the forms of the women andchildren who were crowded around them. This patriarchal scene wascurious and striking enough; but we made our escape from the place withall possible dispatch, being tormented by the intrusive curiosity of themen who crowded around us. Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. Theydemanded our names, where we came from, where we were going, and whatwas our business. The last query was particularly embarrassing; sincetraveling in that country, or indeed anywhere, from any other motivethan gain, was an idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they werefine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity, and evencourtesy, having come from one of the least barbarous of the frontiercounties. 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. Being too few innumber to stand guard without excessive fatigue, we extinguished ourfire, lest it should attract the notice of wandering Indians; andpicketing our horses close around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three days we traveled without interruption, and on the evening ofthe third encamped by the well-known spring on Scott's Bluff. 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and descending thewestern side of the Bluff, were crossing the plain beyond. Somethingthat seemed to me a file of buffalo came into view, descending thehills several miles before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and keenlypeering across the prairie with a better and more practiced eye, soondiscovered its real nature. "Indians!" he said. "Old Smoke's lodges, Ib'lieve. Come! let us go! Wah! get up, now, Five Hundred Dollar!" Andlaying on the lash with good will, he galloped forward, and I rode byhis side. Not long after, a black speck became visible on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew larger and larger; it assumed the form ofa man and horse; and soon we could discern a naked Indian, careering atfull gallop toward us. When within a furlong he wheeled his horse ina wide circle, and made him describe various mystic figures upon theprairie; and Henry immediately compelled Five Hundred Dollar to executesimilar evolutions. "It IS Old Smoke's village, " said he, interpretingthese signals; "didn't I say so?"

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, when suddenly hevanished, sinking, as it were, into the earth. He had come upon one ofthe deep ravines that everywhere intersect these prairies. In an instantthe rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge and the riderand steed came scrambling out, and hounded up to us; a sudden jerk ofthe rein brought the wild panting horse to a full stop. Then followedthe needful formality of shaking hands. I forget our visitor's name. He was a young fellow, of no note in his nation; yet in his person andequipments he was a good specimen of a Dakota warrior in his ordinarytraveling dress. Like most of his people, he was nearly six feet high;lithely and gracefully, yet strongly proportioned; and with a skinsingularly clear and delicate. He wore no paint; his head was bare; andhis long hair was gathered in a clump behind, to the top of which wasattached transversely, both by way of ornament and of talisman, themystic whistle, made of the wingbone of the war eagle, and endowed withvarious magic virtues. From the back of his head descended a line ofglittering brass plates, tapering from the size of a doubloon to that ofa half-dime, a cumbrous ornament, in high vogue among the Dakotas, andfor which they pay the traders a most extravagant price; his chest andarms were naked, the buffalo robe, worn over them when at rest, hadfallen about his waist, and was confined there by a belt. This, with thegay moccasins on his feet, completed his attire. For arms he carried aquiver of dogskin at his back, and a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse had no bridle; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, servedin place of one. The saddle was of most singular construction; it wasmade of wood covered with raw hide, and both pommel and cantle roseperpendicularly full eighteen inches, so that the warrior was wedgedfirmly in his seat, whence nothing could dislodge him but the burstingof the girths. 

Advancing with our new companion, we found more of his people seated ina circle on the top of a hill; while a rude procession came stragglingdown the neighboring hollow, men, women, and children, with horsesdragging the lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we movedforward, tall savages were stalking silently about us. At noon wereached Horse Creek; and as we waded through the shallow water, we saw awild and striking scene. The main body of the Indians had arrived beforeus. On the farther bank stood a large and strong man, nearly naked, holding a white horse by a long cord, and eyeing us as we approached. This was the chief, whom Henry called "Old Smoke. " Just behind him hisyoungest and favorite squaw sat astride of a fine mule; it was coveredwith caparisons of whitened skins, garnished with blue and white beads, and fringed with little ornaments of metal that tinkled with everymovement of the animal. The girl had a light clear complexion, enlivenedby a spot of vermilion on each cheek; she smiled, not to say grinned, upon us, showing two gleaming rows of white teeth. In her hand, shecarried the tall lance of her unchivalrous lord, fluttering withfeathers; his round white shield hung at the side of her mule; and hispipe was slung at her back. Her dress was a tunic of deerskin, madebeautifully white by means of a species of clay found on the prairie, and ornamented with beads, arrayed in figures more gay than tasteful, and with long fringes at all the seams. Not far from the chief stood agroup of stately figures, their white buffalo robes thrown over theirshoulders, gazing coldly upon us; and in the rear, for several acres, the ground was covered with a temporary encampment; men, women, andchildren swarmed like bees; hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, ran restlessly about; and, close at hand, the wide shallow stream wasalive with boys, girls, and young squaws, splashing, screaming, andlaughing in the water. At the same time a long train of emigrantwagons were crossing the creek, and dragging on in their slow, heavyprocession, passed the encampment of the people whom they and theirdescendants, in the space of a century, are to sweep from the face ofthe earth. 

The encampment itself was merely a temporary one during the heat of theday. None of the lodges were erected; but their heavy leather coverings, and the long poles used to support them, were scattered everywherearound, among weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude harness of mulesand horses. The squaws of each lazy warrior had made him a shelterfrom the sun, by stretching a few buffalo robes, or the corner of alodge-covering upon poles; and here he sat in the shade, with a favoriteyoung squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all imaginabletrinkets. Before him stood the insignia of his rank as a warrior, hiswhite shield of bull-hide, his medicine bag, his bow and quiver, hislance and his pipe, raised aloft on a tripod of three poles. Except thedogs, the most active and noisy tenants of the camp were the old women, ugly as Macbeth's witches, with their hair streaming loose in the wind, and nothing but the tattered fragment of an old buffalo robe to hidetheir shriveled wiry limbs. The day of their favoritism passed twogenerations ago; now the heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them;they were to harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the buffalorobes, and bring in meat for the hunters. With the cracked voices ofthese hags, the clamor of dogs, the shouting and laughing of childrenand girls, and the listless tranquillity of the warriors, the wholescene had an effect too lively and picturesque ever to be forgotten. 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having invited some of thechiefs and warriors to dinner, placed before them a sumptuous repast ofbiscuit and coffee. Squatted in a half circle on the ground, they soondisposed of it. As we rode forward on the afternoon journey, several ofour late guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a huge bloated savageof more than three hundred pounds' weight, christened La Cochon, inconsideration of his preposterous dimensions and certain correspondingtraits of his character. "The Hog" bestrode a little white pony, scarceable to bear up under the enormous burden, though, by way of keepingup the necessary stimulus, the rider kept both feet in constant motion, playing alternately against his ribs. The old man was not a chief; henever had ambition enough to become one; he was not a warrior nor ahunter, for he was too fat and lazy: but he was the richest man in thewhole village. Riches among the Dakotas consist in horses, and of theseThe Hog had accumulated more than thirty. He had already ten times asmany as he wanted, yet still his appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting up to me he shook me by the hand, and gave me to understandthat he was a very devoted friend; and then he began a series of mostearnest signs and gesticulations, his oily countenance radiant withsmiles, and his little eyes peeping out with a cunning twinkle frombetween the masses of flesh that almost obscured them. Knowing nothingat that time of the sign language of the Indians, I could only guess athis meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 

The Hog, it seems, was anxious to conclude a matrimonial bargain. Hesaid he had a very pretty daughter in his lodge, whom he would giveme, if I would give him my horse. These flattering overtures I chose toreject; at which The Hog, still laughing with undiminished good humor, gathered his robe about his shoulders, and rode away. 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte ran between highbluffs; it was turbid and swift as heretofore, but trees were growing onits crumbling banks, and there was a nook of grass between the waterand the hill. Just before entering this place, we saw the emigrantsencamping at two or three miles' distance on the right; while the wholeIndian rabble were pouring down the neighboring hill in hope of the samesort of entertainment which they had experienced from us. In the savagelandscape before our camp, nothing but the rushing of the Platte brokethe silence. Through the ragged boughs of the trees, dilapidated andhalf dead, we saw the sun setting in crimson behind the peaks of theBlack Hills; the restless bosom of the river was suffused with red; ourwhite tent was tinged with it, and the sterile bluffs, up to the rocksthat crowned them, partook of the same fiery hue. It soon passed away;no light remained, but that from our fire, blazing high among the duskytrees and bushes. We lay around it wrapped in our blankets, smoking andconversing until a late hour, and then withdrew to our tent. 

We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning; the line of oldcotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of the Platte forming itsextreme verge. Nestled apparently close beneath them, we could discernin the distance something like a building. As we came nearer, it assumedform and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure of logs. It wasa little trading fort, belonging to two private traders; and originallyintended, like all the forts of the country, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging and storage opening upon the area within. Onlytwo sides of it had been completed; the place was now as ill-fitted forthe purposes of defense as any of those little log-houses, whichupon our constantly shifting frontier have been so often successfullymaintained against overwhelming odds of Indians. Two lodges were pitchedclose to the fort; the sun beat scorching upon the logs; no living thingwas stirring except one old squaw, who thrust her round head from theopening of the nearest lodge, and three or four stout young pups, whowere peeping with looks of eager inquiry from under the covering. In amoment a door opened, and a little, swarthy black-eyed Frenchman cameout. His dress was rather singular; his black curling hair was partedin the middle of his head, and fell below his shoulders; he wore a tightfrock of smoked deerskin, very gayly ornamented with figures workedin dyed porcupine quills. His moccasins and leggings were also gaudilyadorned in the same manner; and the latter had in addition a line oflong fringes, reaching down the seams. The small frame of Richard, for by this name Henry made him known to us, was in the highest degreeathletic and vigorous. There was no superfluity, and indeed thereseldom is among the active white men of this country, but every limb wascompact and hard; every sinew had its full tone and elasticity, and thewhole man wore an air of mingled hardihood and buoyancy. 

Richard committed our horses to a Navahoe slave, a mean looking fellowtaken prisoner on the Mexican frontier; and, relieving us of our rifleswith ready politeness, led the way into the principal apartment of hisestablishment. This was a room ten feet square. The walls and floor wereof black mud, and the roof of rough timber; there was a huge fireplacemade of four flat rocks, picked up on the prairie. An Indian bow andotter-skin quiver, several gaudy articles of Rocky Mountain finery, anIndian medicine bag, and a pipe and tobacco pouch, garnished the walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was no furniture except a sortof rough settle covered with buffalo robes, upon which lolled atall half-breed, with his hair glued in masses upon each temple, and saturated with vermilion. Two or three more "mountain men" satcross-legged on the floor. Their attire was not unlike that of Richardhimself; but the most striking figure of the group was a naked Indianboy of sixteen, with a handsome face, and light, active proportions, whosat in an easy posture in the corner near the door. Not one of his limbsmoved the breadth of a hair; his eye was fixed immovably, not on anyperson present, but, as it appeared, on the projecting corner of thefireplace opposite to him. 

On these prairies the custom of smoking with friends is seldom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. The pipe, therefore, was taken from thewall, and its great red bowl crammed with the tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in suitable proportions. Then it passed round the circle, each maninhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. Having spent halfan hour here, we took our leave; first inviting our new friends to drinka cup of coffee with us at our camp, a mile farther up the river. Bythis time, as the reader may conceive, we had grown rather shabby; ourclothes had burst into rags and tatters; and what was worse, we had verylittle means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but seven miles before us. Being totally averse to appearing in such plight among any society thatcould boast an approximation to the civilized, we soon stopped by theriver to make our toilet in the best way we could. We hung up smalllooking-glasses against the trees and shaved, an operation neglected forsix weeks; we performed our ablutions in the Platte, though the utilityof such a proceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly likea cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest and richestyellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a preliminary, to build acause-way of stout branches and twigs. Having also put on radiantmoccasins, procured from a squaw of Richard's establishment, and madewhat other improvements our narrow circumstances allowed, we took ourseats on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased respectability, to wait the arrival of our guests. They came; the banquet was concluded, and the pipe smoked. Bidding them adieu, we turned our horses' headstoward the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across our front, and we couldsee no farther; until having surmounted them, a rapid stream appearedat the foot of the descent, running into the Platte; beyond was a greenmeadow, dotted with bushes, and in the midst of these, at the pointwhere the two rivers joined, were the low clay walls of a fort. Thiswas not Fort Laramie, but another post of less recent date, which havingsunk before its successful competitor was now deserted and ruinous. Amoment after the hills, seeming to draw apart as we advanced, disclosedFort Laramie itself, its high bastions and perpendicular walls ofclay crowning an eminence on the left beyond the stream, while behindstretched a line of arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, towering aloft seven thousand feet, arose the grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly opposite the fort, butthe stream, swollen with the rains in the mountains, was too rapid. Wepassed up along its bank to find a better crossing place. Men gatheredon the wall to look at us. "There's Bordeaux!" called Henry, his facebrightening as he recognized his acquaintance; "him there with thespyglass; and there's old Vaskiss, and Tucker, and May; and, by George!there's Cimoneau!" This Cimoneau was Henry's fast friend, and the onlyman in the country who could rival him in hunting. 

We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony approaching the bankwith a countenance of cool indifference, bracing his feet and slidinginto the stream with the most unmoved composure. 

 At the first plunge the horse sunk low, And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow

We followed; the water boiled against our saddles, but our horses boreus easily through. The unfortunate little mules came near going downwith the current, cart and all; and we watched them with some solicitudescrambling over the loose round stones at the bottom, and bracingstoutly against the stream. All landed safely at last; we crossed alittle plain, descended a hollow, and riding up a steep bank foundourselves before the gateway of Fort Laramie, under the impendingblockhouse erected above it to defend the entrance. 

CHAPTER IX

SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE

Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort Laramie and itsinmates, they seem less like a reality than like some fanciful pictureof the olden time; so different was the scene from any which this tamerside of the world can present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their whitebuffalo robes, were striding across the area or reclining at full lengthon the low roofs of the buildings which inclosed it. Numerous squaws, gayly bedizened, sat grouped in front of the apartments they occupied;their mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, rambled in everydirection through the fort; and the trappers, traders, and ENGAGES ofthe establishment were busy at their labor or their amusements. 

We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust and suspicion until Henry Chatillonexplained that we were not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed tothe bourgeois a letter of introduction from his principals. He tookit, turned it upside down, and tried hard to read it; but his literaryattainments not being adequate to the task, he applied for relief tothe clerk, a sleek, smiling Frenchman, named Montalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the bourgeois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of whatwas expected of him. Though not deficient in hospitable intentions, hewas wholly unaccustomed to act as master of ceremonies. Discarding allformalities of reception, he did not honor us with a single word, butwalked swiftly across the area, while we followed in some admiration toa railing and a flight of steps opposite the entrance. He signed to usthat we had better fasten our horses to the railing; then he walkedup the steps, tramped along a rude balcony, and kicking open a doordisplayed a large room, rather more elaborately finished than a barn. For furniture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed; two chairs, a chestof drawers, a tin pail to hold water, and a board to cut tobacco upon. Abrass crucifix hung on the wall, and close at hand a recent scalp, withhair full a yard long, was suspended from a nail. I shall again haveoccasion to mention this dismal trophy, its history being connected withthat of our subsequent proceedings. 

This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that usually occupied bythe legitimate bourgeois, Papin; in whose absence the command devolvedupon Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflatedby a sense of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo robes. Thesebeing brought and spread upon the floor formed our beds; much betterones than we had of late been accustomed to. Our arrangements made, westepped out to the balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the longlooked-for haven at which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was thesquare area surrounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which openedupon it. These were devoted to various purposes, but served chiefly forthe accommodation of the men employed at the fort, or of the equallynumerous squaws, whom they were allowed to maintain in it. Opposite tous rose the blockhouse above the gateway; it was adorned with a figurewhich even now haunts my memory; a horse at full speed, daubed uponthe boards with red paint, and exhibiting a degree of skill which mightrival that displayed by the Indians in executing similar designs upontheir robes and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the area. Thewagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were about to set out for a remotepost in the mountains, and the Canadians were going through theirpreparations with all possible bustle, while here and there an Indianstood looking on with imperturbable gravity. 

Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the American FurCompany, who well-nigh monopolize the Indian trade of this whole region. Here their officials rule with an absolute sway; the arm of the UnitedStates has little force; for when we were there, the extreme outpostsof her troops were about seven hundred miles to the eastward. The littlefort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally is of an oblongform, with bastions of clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at twoof the corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, and surmounted bya slender palisade. The roofs of the apartments within, which are builtclose against the walls, serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, the fort is divided by a partition; on one side is the square areasurrounded by the storerooms, offices, and apartments of the inmates;on the other is the corral, a narrow place, encompassed by the high claywalls, where at night, or in presence of dangerous Indians, the horsesand mules of the fort are crowded for safe-keeping. The main entrancehas two gates, with an arched passage intervening. A little squarewindow, quite high above the ground, opens laterally from an adjoiningchamber into this passage; so that when the inner gate is closed andbarred, a person without may still hold communication with those withinthrough this narrow aperture. This obviates the necessity of admittingsuspicious Indians, for purposes of trading, into the body of the fort;for when danger is apprehended, the inner gate is shut fast, and alltraffic is carried on by means of the little window. This precaution, though highly necessary at some of the company's posts, is now seldomresorted to at Fort Laramie; where, though men are frequently killed inits neighborhood, no apprehensions are now entertained of any generaldesigns of hostility from the Indians. 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. The door wassilently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a visage as black as nightlooked in upon us; then a red arm and shoulder intruded themselves, anda tall Indian, gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the naturalhue; and letting fall their heavy robes from their shoulders, they tooktheir seats, quite at ease, in a semicircle before us. The pipe was nowto be lighted and passed round from one to another; and this was theonly entertainment that at present they expected from us. These visitorswere fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the squaws in thefort, where they were permitted to remain, loitering about in perfectidleness. All those who smoked with us were men of standing and repute. Two or three others dropped in also; young fellows who neither by theiryears nor their exploits were entitled to rank with the old men andwarriors, and who, abashed in the presence of their superiors, stoodaloof, never withdrawing their eyes from us. Their cheeks were adornedwith vermilion, their ears with pendants of shell, and their necks withbeads. Never yet having signalized themselves as hunters, or performedthe honorable exploit of killing a man, they were held in slightesteem, and were diffident and bashful in proportion. Certain formidableinconveniences attended this influx of visitors. They were bent oninspecting everything in the room; our equipments and our dress alikeunderwent their scrutiny; for though the contrary has been carelesslyasserted, few beings have more curiosity than Indians in regard tosubjects within their ordinary range of thought. As to other matters, indeed, they seemed utterly indifferent. They will not troublethemselves to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but are quitecontented to place their hands over their mouths in token of wonder, andexclaim that it is "great medicine. " With this comprehensive solution, an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches forth into speculationand conjecture; his reason moves in its beaten track. His soul isdormant; and no exertions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of theOld World or of the New, have as yet availed to rouse it. 

As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the wild and desolateplains that surround the fort, we observed a cluster of strange objectslike scaffolds rising in the distance against the red western sky. Theybore aloft some singular looking burdens; and at their foot glimmeredsomething white like bones. This was the place of sepulture of someDakota chiefs, whose remains their people are fond of placing in thevicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may thus be protected fromviolation at the hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more thanonce, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow Indians, rangingthrough the country, have thrown the bodies from the scaffolds, andbroken them to pieces amid the yells of the Dakotas, who remained pentup in the fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult. Thewhite objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, arranged in themystic circle commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon theprairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or sixtyhorses approaching the fort. These were the animals belonging to theestablishment; who having been sent out to feed, under the care of armedguards, in the meadows below, were now being driven into the corral forthe night. A little gate opened into this inclosure; by the side of itstood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy eyebrows, and a dragoon pistol stuck into his belt; while his comrade, mountedon horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in front of him, andhis long hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of thedisorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrowcorral was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, andcrowding restlessly together. 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in the area, summoned us to supper. This sumptuous repast was served on a rough tablein one of the lower apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes ofbread and dried buffalo meat--an excellent thing for strengthening theteeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and superior dignitariesof the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included. No sooner was it finished, than the table was spread a second time (theluxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the benefit ofcertain hunters and trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinaryCanadian ENGAGES were regaled on dried meat in one of their lodgingrooms. By way of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort Laramie, itmay not be amiss to introduce in this place a story current among themen when we were there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the meatfrom the storeroom for the men. Old Pierre, in the kindness ofhis heart, used to select the fattest and the best pieces for hiscompanions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who wasgreatly disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some means tostop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited him. At the sideof the meat-room, and separated from it by a clay partition, was anothercompartment, used for the storage of furs. It had no other communicationwith the fort, except through a square hole in the partition; and ofcourse it was perfectly dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching fora moment when no one observed him, dodged into the meat-room, clamberedthrough the hole, and ensconced himself among the furs and buffalorobes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern; and, mutteringto himself, began to pull over the bales of meat, and select the bestpieces, as usual. But suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceededfrom the inner apartment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let that fat meat alone! Takenothing but lean!" Pierre dropped his lantern, and bolted out intothe fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, that the devil was in thestoreroom; but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over upon thegravel, and lay senseless, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran outto the rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre; and others, making anextempore crucifix out of two sticks, were proceeding to attack thedevil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a crest-fallencountenance, appeared at the door. To add to the bourgeois'mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in order to bring the latter to his senses. 

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way betweenthe gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our sleek friend, the clerk Montalon, were, I believe, theonly persons then in the fort who could read and write. May was tellinga curious story about the traveler Catlin, when an ugly, diminutiveIndian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, and rode past us intothe fort. On being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close athand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before the hills beyond theriver were covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horseback andon foot. May finished his story; and by that time the whole array haddescended to Laramie Creek, and commenced crossing it in a mass. Iwalked down to the bank. The stream is wide, and was then between threeand four feet deep, with a very swift current. For several rods thewater was alive with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long poles used inerecting the lodges are carried by the horses, being fastened by theheavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort of pack saddle, while the other end drags on the ground. About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is suspended between the poles, andfirmly lashed in its place on the back of the horse are piled variousarticles of luggage; the basket also is well filled with domesticutensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, a brood of smallchildren, or a superannuated old man. Numbers of these curious vehicles, called, in the bastard language of the country travaux were nowsplashing together through the stream. Among them swam countless dogs, often burdened with miniature travaux; and dashing forward on horsebackthrough the throng came the superbly formed warriors, the slender figureof some lynx-eyed boy, clinging fast behind them. The women sat perchedon the pack saddles, adding not a little to the load of the alreadyoverburdened horses. The confusion was prodigious. The dogs yelled andhowled in chorus; the puppies in the travaux set up a dismal whineas the water invaded their comfortable retreat; the little black-eyedchildren, from one year of age upward, clung fast with both hands to theedge of their basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rushing sonear them, sputtering and making wry mouths as it splashed against theirfaces. Some of the dogs, encumbered by their loads, were carried down bythe current, yelping piteously; and the old squaws would rush into thewater, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them out. As eachhorse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he could. Stray horses andcolts came among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through thecrowd, followed by the old hags, screaming after their fashion on alloccasions of excitement. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the charmsof vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, holding aloft theirmaster's lance, as a signal to collect the scattered portions of hishousehold. In a few moments the crowd melted away; each family, with itshorses and equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of the fort;and here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty or seventy oftheir tapering lodges. Their horses were feeding by hundreds over thesurrounding prairie, and their dogs were roaming everywhere. The fortwas full of men, and the children were whooping and yelling incessantlyunder the walls. 

These newcomers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux was running acrossthe fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his spyglass. The obedientMarie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeauxhurried with it up to the wall. Pointing it to the eastward, heexclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. But a fewmoments elapsed before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons couldbe seen, steadily advancing from the hills. They gained the river, andwithout turning or pausing plunged in; they passed through, and slowlyascending the opposing bank, kept directly on their way past the fortand the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a quarter of a miledistant, they wheeled into a circle. For some time our tranquillitywas undisturbed. The emigrants were preparing their encampment; butno sooner was this accomplished than Fort Laramie was fairly taken bystorm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyesappeared suddenly at the gate. Tall awkward men, in brown homespun;women with cadaverous faces and long lank figures came thronging intogether, and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, ransackedevery nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at this invasion, wewithdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might provean inviolable sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted their investigationswith untiring vigor. They penetrated the rooms or rather dens, inhabitedby the astonished squaws. They explored the apartments of the men, andeven that of Marie and the bourgeois. At last a numerous deputationappeared at our door, but were immediately expelled. Being totallydevoid of any sense of delicacy or propriety, they seemed resolved tosearch every mystery to the bottom. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next proceeded tobusiness. The men occupied themselves in procuring supplies for theironward journey; either buying them with money or giving in exchangesuperfluous articles of their own. 

The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. They thought, and with somejustice, that these men bore them no good will. Many of them were firmlypersuaded that the French were instigating the Indians to attack andcut them off. On visiting the encampment we were at once struck withthe extraordinary perplexity and indecision that prevailed amongthe emigrants. They seemed like men totally out of their elements;bewildered and amazed, like a troop of school-boys lost in the woods. Itwas impossible to be long among them without being conscious of the highand bold spirit with which most of them were animated. But the FOREST isthe home of the backwoodsman. On the remote prairie he is totally at aloss. He differs much from the genuine "mountain man, " the wild prairiehunter, as a Canadian voyageur, paddling his canoe on the rapids of theOttawa, differs from an American sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion and I were somewhat at a loss to account for thisperturbed state of mind. It could not be cowardice; these men were ofthe same stock with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, forthe most part, they were the rudest and most ignorant of the frontierpopulation; they knew absolutely nothing of the country and itsinhabitants; they had already experienced much misfortune, andapprehended more; they had seen nothing of mankind, and had never puttheir own resources to the test. 

A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers we werelooked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a supply of lead and a fewother necessary articles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps toobtain them. After some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumblingof the hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, theprice tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring the article inquestion. After waiting until our patience gave out, we would go insearch of him, and find him seated on the tongue of his wagon. 

"Well, stranger, " he would observe, as he saw us approach, "I reckon Iwon't trade!"

Some friend of his followed him from the scene of the bargain andsuggested in his ear, that clearly we meant to cheat him, and he hadbetter have nothing to do with us. 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly unfortunate, as itexposed them to real danger. Assume, in the presence of Indians a boldbearing, self-confident yet vigilant, and you will find them tolerablysafe neighbors. But your safety depends on the respect and fear you areable to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you convert themfrom that moment into insidious and dangerous enemies. The Dakotas sawclearly enough the perturbation of the emigrants and instantly availedthemselves of it. They became extremely insolent and exacting in theirdemands. It has become an established custom with them to go to the campof every party, at it arrives in succession at the fort, and demand afeast. Smoke's village had come with the express design, having madeseveral days' journey with no other object than that of enjoying a cupof coffee and two or three biscuits. So the "feast" was demanded, andthe emigrants dared not refuse it. 

One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. We met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, trooping off to theencampment, with faces of anticipation; and, arriving here, they seatedthemselves in a semicircle. Smoke occupied the center, with his warriorson either hand; the young men and boys next succeeded, and the squawsand children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit and coffeewere most promptly dispatched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed attheir savage guests. With each new emigrant party that arrived at FortLaramie this scene was renewed; and every day the Indians grew morerapacious and presumptuous. One evening they broke to pieces, out ofmere wantonness, the cups from which they had been feasted; and thisso exasperated the emigrants that many of them seized their rifles andcould scarcely be restrained from firing on the insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the country this dangerous spirit on the part of theDakota had mounted to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threatenthe emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one or twoparties of whites. A military force and military law are urgently calledfor in that perilous region; and unless troops are speedily stationed atFort Laramie, or elsewhere in the neighborhood, both the emigrants andother travelers will be exposed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogallalla, the Brules, and other western bands of the Dakota, arethorough savages, unchanged by any contact with civilization. Not oneof them can speak a European tongue, or has ever visited an Americansettlement. Until within a year or two, when the emigrants began topass through their country on the way to Oregon, they had seen no whitesexcept the handful employed about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemedthem a wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in leatherlodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo. But when the swarmof MENEASKA, with their oxen and wagons, began to invade them, theirastonishment was unbounded. They could scarcely believe that the earthcontained such a multitude of white men. Their wonder is now giving wayto indignation; and the result, unless vigilantly guarded against, maybe lamentable in the extreme. 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I used often tovisit them. Indeed, we spent most of our evenings in the Indian village;Shaw's assumption of the medical character giving us a fair pretext. Asa sample of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun hadjust set, and the horses were driven into the corral. The Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy of young girls, with whomhe began to dance in the area, leading them round and round in a circle, while he jerked up from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, towhich they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside the gate boys and youngmen were idly frolicking; and close by, looking grimly upon them, stooda warrior in his robe, with his face painted jet-black, in token thathe had lately taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodgesrose between us and the red western sky. We repaired at once to thelodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no means better than the others;indeed, it was rather shabby; for in this democratic community, thechief never assumes superior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalorobe, and his grunt of salutation as we entered was unusually cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's medical character. Seated around thelodge were several squaws, and an abundance of children. The complaintof Shaw's patients was, for the most part, a severe inflammation of theeyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a species of disorder whichhe treated with some success. He had brought with him a homeopathicmedicine chest, and was, I presume, the first who introduced thatharmless system of treatment among the Ogallalla. No sooner had a robebeen spread at the head of the lodge for our accommodation, and wehad seated ourselves upon it, than a patient made her appearance; thechief's daughter herself, who, to do her justice, was the best-lookinggirl in the village. Being on excellent terms with the physician, sheplaced herself readily under his hands, and submitted with a good graceto his applications, laughing in his face during the whole process, fora squaw hardly knows how to smile. This case dispatched, another ofa different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old woman sat in thedarkest corner of the lodge rocking to and fro with pain and hidingher eyes from the light by pressing the palms of both hands againsther face. At Smoke's command, she came forward, very unwillingly, andexhibited a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared from excess ofinflammation. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grips upon her thanshe set up a dismal moaning, and writhed so in his grasp that he lostall patience, but being resolved to carry his point, he succeeded atlast in applying his favorite remedies. 

"It is strange, " he said, when the operation was finished, "that Iforgot to bring any Spanish flies with me; we must have something hereto answer for a counter-irritant!"

So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot brand from thefire, and clapped it against the temple of the old squaw, who set up anunearthly howl, at which the rest of the family broke out into a laugh. 

During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw entered the lodge, with a sort of stone mallet in her hand. I had observed some time beforea litter of well-grown black puppies, comfortably nestled among somebuffalo robes at one side; but this newcomer speedily disturbed theirenjoyment; for seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged him out, and carrying him to the entrance of the lodge, hammered him on the headtill she killed him. Being quite conscious to what this preparationtended, I looked through a hole in the back of the lodge to see thenext steps of the process. The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, wasswinging him to and fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair wassinged off. This done, she unsheathed her knife and cut him into smallpieces, which she dropped into a kettle to boil. In a few momentsa large wooden dish was set before us, filled with this delicatepreparation. We felt conscious of the honor. A dog-feast is the greatestcompliment a Dakota can offer to his guest; and knowing that to refuseeating would be an affront, we attacked the little dog and devoured himbefore the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the meantime waspreparing his great pipe. It was lighted when we had finished ourrepast, and we passed it from one to another till the bowl was empty. This done, we took our leave without further ceremony, knocked at thegate of the fort, and after making ourselves known were admitted. 

One morning, about a week after reaching Fort Laramie, we were holdingour customary Indian levee, when a bustle in the area below announceda new arrival; and looking down from our balcony, I saw a familiar redbeard and mustache in the gateway. They belonged to the captain, whowith his party had just crossed the stream. We met him on the stairs ashe came up, and congratulated him on the safe arrival of himself and hisdevoted companions. But he remembered our treachery, and was grave anddignified accordingly; a tendency which increased as he observed on ourpart a disposition to laugh at him. After remaining an hour or two atthe fort he rode away with his friends, and we have heard nothing of himsince. As for R. , he kept carefully aloof. It was but too evident thatwe had the unhappiness to have forfeited the kind regards of our Londonfellow-traveler. 

CHAPTER X

THE WAR PARTIES

The summer of 1846 was a season of much warlike excitement among all thewestern bands of the Dakota. In 1845 they encountered great reverses. Many war parties had been sent out; some of them had been totally cutoff, and others had returned broken and disheartened, so that the wholenation was in mourning. Among the rest, ten warriors had gone to theSnake country, led by the son of a prominent Ogallalla chief, called TheWhirlwind. In passing over Laramie Plains they encountered a superiornumber of their enemies, were surrounded, and killed to a man. Having performed this exploit the Snakes became alarmed, dreading theresentment of the Dakota, and they hastened therefore to signify theirwish for peace by sending the scalp of the slain partisan, together witha small parcel of tobacco attached, to his tribesmen and relations. Theyhad employed old Vaskiss, the trader, as their messenger, and the scalpwas the same that hung in our room at the fort. But The Whirlwind provedinexorable. Though his character hardly corresponds with his name, he isnevertheless an Indian, and hates the Snakes with his whole soul. Longbefore the scalp arrived he had made his preparations for revenge. Hesent messengers with presents and tobacco to all the Dakota within threehundred miles, proposing a grand combination to chastise the Snakes, andnaming a place and time of rendezvous. The plan was readily adopted andat this moment many villages, probably embracing in the whole five orsix thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies and tendingtowards the common center at La Bonte's Camp, on the Platte. Here theirwar-like rites were to be celebrated with more than ordinary solemnity, and a thousand warriors, as it was said, were to set out for the enemycountry. The characteristic result of this preparation will appear inthe sequel. 

I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into the country almostexclusively with a view of observing the Indian character. Having fromchildhood felt a curiosity on this subject, and having failed completelyto gratify it by reading, I resolved to have recourse to observation. I wished to satisfy myself with regard to the position of the Indiansamong the races of men; the vices and the virtues that have sprung fromtheir innate character and from their modes of life, their government, their superstitions, and their domestic situation. To accomplish mypurpose it was necessary to live in the midst of them, and become, asit were, one of them. I proposed to join a village and make myself aninmate of one of their lodges; and henceforward this narrative, so faras I am concerned, will be chiefly a record of the progress of thisdesign apparently so easy of accomplishment, and the unexpectedimpediments that opposed it. 

We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at La Bonte's Camp. Ourplan was to leave Delorier at the fort, in charge of our equipage andthe better part of our horses, while we took with us nothing but ourweapons and the worst animals we had. In all probability jealousies andquarrels would arise among so many hordes of fierce impulsive savages, congregated together under no common head, and many of them strangers, from remote prairies and mountains. We were bound in common prudence tobe cautious how we excited any feeling of cupidity. This was our plan, but unhappily we were not destined to visit La Bonte's Camp in thismanner; for one morning a young Indian came to the fort and brought usevil tidings. The newcomer was a dandy of the first water. His ugly facewas painted with vermilion; on his head fluttered the tail of a prairiecock (a large species of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, eastwardof the Rocky Mountains); in his ears were hung pendants of shell, and aflaming red blanket was wrapped around him. He carried a dragoon swordin his hand, solely for display, since the knife, the arrow, and therifle are the arbiters of every prairie fight; but no one in thiscountry goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a bow and arrows in anotter-skin quiver at his back. In this guise, and bestriding his yellowhorse with an air of extreme dignity, The Horse, for that was his name, rode in at the gate, turning neither to the right nor the left, butcasting glances askance at the groups of squaws who, with their mongrelprogeny, were sitting in the sun before their doors. The evil tidingsbrought by The Horse were of the following import: The squaw of HenryChatillon, a woman with whom he had been connected for years by thestrongest ties which in that country exist between the sexes, wasdangerously ill. She and her children were in the village of TheWhirlwind, at the distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anxious tosee the woman before she died, and provide for the safety and supportof his children, of whom he was extremely fond. To have refused himthis would have been gross inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joiningSmoke's village, and of proceeding with it to the rendezvous, anddetermined to meet The Whirlwind, and go in his company. 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the third nightafter reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain awoke me, and I found myselfattacked by the same disorder that occasioned such heavy losses to thearmy on the Rio Grande. In a day and a half I was reduced to extremeweakness, so that I could not walk without pain and effort. Havingwithin that time taken six grains of opium, without the least beneficialeffect, and having no medical adviser, nor any choice of diet, Iresolved to throw myself upon Providence for recovery, using, withoutregard to the disorder, any portion of strength that might remain tome. So on the 20th of June we set out from Fort Laramie to meet TheWhirlwind's village. Though aided by the high-bowed "mountain saddle, "I could scarcely keep my seat on horseback. Before we left the fort wehired another man, a long-haired Canadian, with a face like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with Delorier's mercurial countenance. This wasnot the only re-enforcement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, namedReynal, joined us, together with his squaw Margot, and her two nephews, our dandy friend, The Horse, and his younger brother, The Hail Storm. Thus accompanied, we betook ourselves to the prairie, leaving the beatentrail, and passing over the desolate hills that flank the bottoms ofLaramie Creek. In all, Indians and whites, we counted eight men and onewoman. 

Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish complacency, carriedThe Horse's dragoon sword in his hand, delighting apparently in thisuseless parade; for, from spending half his life among Indians, he hadcaught not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a female animalof more than two hundred pounds' weight, was couched in the basket ofa travail, such as I have before described; besides her ponderous bulk, various domestic utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she wasleading by a trail-rope a packhorse, who carried the covering ofReynal's lodge. Delorier walked briskly by the side of the cart, andRaymond came behind, swearing at the spare horses, which it was hisbusiness to drive. The restless young Indians, their quivers at theirbacks, and their bows in their hand, galloped over the hills, oftenstarting a wolf or an antelope from the thick growth of wild-sagebushes. Shaw and I were in keeping with the rest of the rude cavalcade, having in the absence of other clothing adopted the buckskin attireof the trappers. Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. Thus wepassed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a country arid, brokenand so parched by the sun that none of the plants familiar to our morefavored soil would flourish upon it, though there were multitudes ofstrange medicinal herbs, more especially the absanth, which coveredevery declivity, and cacti were hanging like reptiles at the edges ofevery ravine. At length we ascended a high hill, our horses treadingupon pebbles of flint, agate, and rough jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down on the wild bottoms of Laramie Creek, which far below uswound like a writhing snake from side to side of the narrow interval, amid a growth of shattered cotton-wood and ash trees. Lines of tallcliffs, white as chalk, shut in this green strip of woods and meadowland, into which we descended and encamped for the night. In the morningwe passed a wide grassy plain by the river; there was a grove in front, and beneath its shadows the ruins of an old trading fort of logs. Thegrove bloomed with myriads of wild roses, with their sweet perfumefraught with recollections of home. As we emerged from the trees, arattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and more than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely rattling and hissing at us; a gray hare, double the size of those in New England, leaped up from the tall ferns;curlew were screaming over our heads, and a whole host of little prairiedogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on the dry plainbeyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up from the wild-sage bushes, gazedeagerly at us, and then, erecting his white tail, stretched away like agreyhound. The two Indian boys found a white wolf, as large as a calf ina hollow, and giving a sharp yell, they galloped after him; but the wolfleaped into the stream and swam across. Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet whistling harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled up thesteep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld on the farther bank of the stream, aspectacle not common even in that region; for, emerging from among thetrees, a herd of some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, theirantlers clattering as they walked forward in dense throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across the opening and disappearingamong the trees and scattered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretching to the horizon; on our right, a deep gulf, with LaramieCreek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at the edge of asteep descent; a narrow valley, with long rank grass and scattered treesstretching before us for a mile or more along the course of thestream. Reaching the farther end, we stopped and encamped. An old hugecotton-wood tree spread its branches horizontally over our tent. LaramieCreek, circling before our camp, half inclosed us; it swept along thebottom of a line of tall white cliffs that looked down on us from thefarther bank. There were dense copses on our right; the cliffs, too, were half hidden by shrubbery, though behind us a few cotton-wood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone impeded the view, and friend or enemycould be discerned in that direction at a mile's distance. Here weresolved to remain and await the arrival of The Whirlwind, who wouldcertainly pass this way in his progress toward La Bonte's Camp. To goin search of him was not expedient, both on account of the broken andimpracticable nature of the country and the uncertainty of his positionand movements; besides, our horses were almost worn out, and I was in nocondition to travel. We had good grass, good water, tolerable fishfrom the stream, and plenty of smaller game, such as antelope and deer, though no buffalo. There was one little drawback to our satisfaction--acertain extensive tract of bushes and dried grass, just behind us, whichit was by no means advisable to enter, since it sheltered a numerousbrood of rattlesnakes. Henry Chatillon again dispatched The Horse to thevillage, with a message to his squaw that she and her relatives shouldleave the rest and push on as rapidly as possible to our camp. 

Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a well-orderedhousehold. The weather-beaten old tree was in the center; our riflesgenerally rested against its vast trunk, and our saddles were flung onthe ground around it; its distorted roots were so twisted as to form oneor two convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in the shade and reador smoke; but meal-times became, on the whole, the most interestinghours of the day, and a bountiful provision was made for them. Anantelope or a deer usually swung from a stout bough, and haunches weresuspended against the trunk. That camp is daguerreotyped on my memory;the old tree, the white tent, with Shaw sleeping in the shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge close by the bank of the stream. It was awretched oven-shaped structure, made of begrimed and tattered buffalohides stretched over a frame of poles; one side was open, and at theside of the opening hung the powder horn and bullet pouch of the owner, together with his long red pipe, and a rich quiver of otterskin, with abow and arrows; for Reynal, an Indian in most things but color, choseto hunt buffalo with these primitive weapons. In the darkness of thiscavern-like habitation, might be discerned Madame Margot, her overgrownbulk stowed away among her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and painted cases of PAR' FLECHE, in which dried meat is kept. Hereshe sat from sunrise to sunset, a bloated impersonation of gluttonyand laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was smoking, or beggingpetty gifts from us, or telling lies concerning his own achievements, or perchance engaged in the more profitable occupation of cooking somepreparation of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work; heand Delorier have joined forces and are hard at work together overthe fire, while Raymond spreads, by way of tablecloth, a buffalo hide, carefully whitened with pipeclay, on the grass before the tent. Here, with ostentatious display, he arranges the teacups and plates; and then, creeping on all fours like a dog, he thrusts his head in at the openingof the tent. For a moment we see his round owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to communicate had suddenly escaped him; thencollecting his scattered thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs usthat supper is ready, and instantly withdraws. 

When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and desolate scene wouldassume a new aspect, the horses were driven in. They had been grazingall day in the neighboring meadow, but now they were picketed closeabout the camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed around thefire, until becoming drowsy we spread our saddles on the ground, wrappedour blankets around us and lay down. We never placed a guard, havingby this time become too indolent; but Henry Chatillon folded his loadedrifle in the same blanket with himself, observing that he always took itto bed with him when he camped in that place. Henry was too bold a manto use such a precaution without good cause. We had a hint now and thenthat our situation was none of the safest; several Crow war parties wereknown to be in the vicinity, and one of them, that passed here some timebefore, had peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and engraved uponthe white wood certain hieroglyphics, to signify that they had invadedthe territories of their enemies, the Dakota, and set them at defiance. One morning a thick mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry wentout to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of intelligence;they had found within rifle-shot of our camp the recent trail of aboutthirty horsemen. They could not be whites, and they could not be Dakota, since we knew no such parties to be in the neighborhood; thereforethey must be Crows. Thanks to that friendly mist, we had escaped a hardbattle; they would inevitably have attacked us and our Indian companionshad they seen our camp. Whatever doubts we might have entertained, werequite removed a day or two after, by two or three Dakota, who came to uswith an account of having hidden in a ravine on that very morning, fromwhence they saw and counted the Crows; they said that they followedthem, carefully keeping out of sight, as they passed up Chugwater; thathere the Crows discovered five dead bodies of Dakota, placed accordingto the national custom in trees, and flinging them to the ground, theyheld their guns against them and blew them to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was comfortable enough;at least it was so to Shaw, for I was tormented with illness and vexedby the delay in the accomplishment of my designs. When a respite in mydisorder gave me some returning strength, I rode out well-armed uponthe prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, or waged a petty warfarewith the inhabitants of a neighborhood prairie-dog village. Around ourfire at night we employed ourselves in inveighing against the ficklenessand inconstancy of Indians, and execrating The Whirlwind and all hisvillage. At last the thing grew insufferable. 

"To-morrow morning, " said I, "I will start for the fort, and see if Ican hear any news there. " Late that evening, when the fire had sunklow, and all the camp were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the darkness. Henry started up, recognized the voice, replied to it, and our dandyfriend, The Horse, rode in among us, just returned from his mission tothe village. He coolly picketed his mare, without saying a word, satdown by the fire and began to eat, but his imperturbable philosophywas too much for our patience. Where was the village? about fifty milessouth of us; it was moving slowly and would not arrive in less thana week; and where was Henry's squaw? coming as fast as she could withMahto-Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, but she would never reachus, for she was dying, and asking every moment for Henry. Henry's manlyface became clouded and downcast; he said that if we were willing hewould go in the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accompanyhim. 

We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested vehemently againstbeing left alone, with nobody but the two Canadians and the youngIndians, when enemies were in the neighborhood. Disregarding hiscomplaints, we left him, and coming to the mouth of Chugwater, separated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the bank of thestream, while I made for the fort. 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortunate squaw, I willrelate by way of episode what I saw and did at Fort Laramie. It was notmore than eighteen miles distant, and I reached it in three hours; ashriveled little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy whiteCanadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of bull's hidea shaggy wild horse, which he had lately caught. His sharp prominentfeatures, and his little keen snakelike eyes, looked out from beneaththe shadowy hood of the capote, which was drawn over his head exactlylike the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His face was extremely thin and likean old piece of leather, and his mouth spread from ear to ear. Extendinghis long wiry hand, he welcomed me with something more cordial than theordinary cold salute of an Indian, for we were excellent friends. He hadmade an exchange of horses to our mutual advantage; and Paul, thinkinghimself well-treated, had declared everywhere that the white man hada good heart. He was a Dakota from the Missouri, a reputed son of thehalf-breed interpreter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving's"Astoria. " He said that he was going to Richard's trading house to sellhis horse to some emigrants who were encamped there, and asked me to gowith him. We forded the stream together, Paul dragging his wild chargebehind him. As we passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew quitecommunicative. Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way; he had been to thesettlements of the whites, and visited in peace and war most of thetribes within the range of a thousand miles. He spoke a jargon of Frenchand another of English, yet nevertheless he was a thorough Indian; andas he told of the bloody deeds of his own people against their enemies, his little eye would glitter with a fierce luster. He told how theDakota exterminated a village of the Hohays on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and children; and how an overwhelming force ofthem cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares, who fought like wolvesto the last, amid the throng of their enemies. He told me also anotherstory, which I did not believe until I had it confirmed from so manyindependent sources that no room was left for doubt. I am tempted tointroduce it here. 

Six years ago a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a mongrel of French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the Fur Company, in a verylarge village of the Crows. Jim Beckwith was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of the first stamp; bloody and treacherous, withouthonor or honesty; such at least is the character he bears upon theprairie. Yet in his case all the standard rules of character fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also perform mostdesperate acts of daring; such, for instance, as the following: While hewas in the Crow village, a Blackfoot war party, between thirty and fortyin number came stealing through the country, killing stragglers andcarrying off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail and pressedthem so closely that they could not escape, at which the Blackfeet, throwing up a semicircular breastwork of logs at the foot of aprecipice, coolly awaited their approach. The logs and sticks, piledfour or five high, protected them in front. The Crows might haveswept over the breastwork and exterminated their enemies; but thoughout-numbering them tenfold, they did not dream of storming the littlefortification. Such a proceeding would be altogether repugnant to theirnotions of warfare. Whooping and yelling, and jumping from side to sidelike devils incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon the logs;not a Blackfoot was hurt, but several Crows, in spite of their leapingand dodging, were shot down. In this childish manner the fight went onfor an hour or two. Now and then a Crow warrior in an ecstasy of valorand vainglory would scream forth his war song, boasting himself thebravest and greatest of mankind, and grasping his hatchet, would rushup and strike it upon the breastwork, and then as he retreated to hiscompanions, fall dead under a shower of arrows; yet no combinedattack seemed to be dreamed of. The Blackfeet remained secure in theirintrenchment. At last Jim Beckwith lost patience. 

"You are all fools and old women, " he said to the Crows; "come with me, if any of you are brave enough, and I will show you how to fight. "

He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped himself nakedlike the Indians themselves. He left his rifle on the ground, and takingin his hand a small light hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climbingup the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind them. Forty orfifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the cries and whoops thatrose from below he knew that the Blackfeet were just beneath him; andrunning forward, he leaped down the rock into the midst of them. Ashe fell he caught one by the long loose hair and dragging him downtomahawked him; then grasping another by the belt at his waist, hestruck him also a stunning blow, and gaining his feet, shouted the Crowwar-cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely around him that the astonishedBlackfeet bore back and gave him room. He might, had he chosen, haveleaped over the breastwork and escaped; but this was not necessary, forwith devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in quick successionover the rock among their enemies. The main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from the front and rushed up simultaneously. Theconvulsive struggle within the breastwork was frightful; for an instantthe Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers; but the butcherywas soon complete, and the mangled bodies lay piled up together underthe precipice. Not a Blackfoot made his escape. 

As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Richard's Fort. It stoodin the middle of the plain; a disorderly crowd of men around it, and anemigrant camp a little in front. 

"Now, Paul, " said I, "where are your Winnicongew lodges?"

"Not come yet, " said Paul, "maybe come to-morrow. "

Two large villages of a band of Dakota had come three hundred milesfrom the Missouri, to join in the war, and they were expected to reachRichard's that morning. There was as yet no sign of their approach; sopushing through a noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment of logsand mud, the largest in the fort; it was full of men of various racesand complexions, all more or less drunk. A company of Californiaemigrants, it seemed, had made the discovery at this late day that theyhad encumbered themselves with too many supplies for their journey. A part, therefore, they had thrown away or sold at great loss tothe traders, but had determined to get rid of their copious stock ofMissouri whisky, by drinking it on the spot. Here were maudlin squawsstretched on piles of buffalo robes; squalid Mexicans, armed with bowsand arrows; Indians sedately drunk; long-haired Canadians and trappers, and American backwoodsmen in brown homespun, the well-beloved pistol andbowie knife displayed openly at their sides. In the middle of the room atall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was haranguing the companyin the style of the stump orator. With one hand he sawed the air, andwith the other clutched firmly a brown jug of whisky, which he appliedevery moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained the contentslong ago. Richard formally introduced me to this personage, who was noless a man than Colonel R. , once the leader of the party. Instantly thecolonel seizing me, in the absence of buttons by the leather fringes ofmy frock, began to define his position. His men, he said, had mutiniedand deposed him; but still he exercised over them the influence ofa superior mind; in all but the name he was yet their chief. As thecolonel spoke, I looked round on the wild assemblage, and could not helpthinking that he was but ill qualified to conduct such men across thedesert to California. Conspicuous among the rest stood three tailyoung men, grandsons of Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited theadventurous character of that prince of pioneers; but I saw no signs ofthe quiet and tranquil spirit that so remarkably distinguished him. 

Fearful was the fate that months after overtook some of the members ofthat party. General Kearny, on his late return from California, broughtin the account how they were interrupted by the deep snows among themountains, and maddened by cold and hunger fed upon each other's flesh. 

I got tired of the confusion. "Come, Paul, " said I, "we will be off. "Paul sat in the sun, under the wall of the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we rode toward Fort Laramie. When we reached it, a man came out ofthe gate with a pack at his back and a rifle on his shoulder; otherswere gathering about him, shaking him by the hand, as if taking leave. I thought it a strange thing that a man should set out alone and onfoot for the prairie. I soon got an explanation. Perrault--this, ifI recollect right was the Canadian's name--had quarreled with thebourgeois, and the fort was too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, inflated withhis transient authority, had abused him, and received a blow in return. The men then sprang at each other, and grappled in the middle of thefort. Bordeaux was down in an instant, at the mercy of the incensedCanadian; had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, seized holdof his antagonist, he would have fared ill. Perrault broke loose fromthe old Indian, and both the white men ran to their rooms for theirguns; but when Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the Canadian, gun inhand, standing in the area and calling on him to come out and fight, his heart failed him; he chose to remain where he was. In vain the oldIndian, scandalized by his brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon himto go upon the prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner; andBordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, screamed to her lord and masterthat he was a dog and an old woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux'sprudence got the better of his valor, and he would not stir. Perraultstood showering approbrious epithets at the recent bourgeois. Growingtired of this, he made up a pack of dried meat, and slinging it at hisback, set out alone for Fort Pierre on the Missouri, a distance of threehundred miles, over a desert country full of hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as I was comingout from breakfast, conversing with a trader named McCluskey, I sawa strange Indian leaning against the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with heavy features. 

"Who is he?" I asked. "That's The Whirlwind, " said McCluskey. "He is thefellow that made all this stir about the war. It's always the way withthe Sioux; they never stop cutting each other's throats; it's all theyare fit for; instead of sitting in their lodges, and getting robes totrade with us in the winter. If this war goes on, we'll make a poortrade of it next season, I reckon. "

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were vehemently opposedto the war, from the serious injury that it must occasion to theirinterests. The Whirlwind left his village the day before to make a visitto the fort. His warlike ardor had abated not a little since hefirst conceived the design of avenging his son's death. The long andcomplicated preparations for the expedition were too much for hisfickle, inconstant disposition. That morning Bordeaux fastened upon him, made him presents and told him that if he went to war he would destroyhis horses and kill no buffalo to trade with the white men; in short, that he was a fool to think of such a thing, and had better make up hismind to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his pipe, like a wise man. The Whirlwind's purpose was evidently shaken; he had become tired, likea child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted that hewould not go to war. My philanthropy at that time was no match for mycuriosity, and I was vexed at the possibility that after all I mightlose the rare opportunity of seeing the formidable ceremonies ofwar. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown the firebrand; theconflagration was become general. All the western bands of the Dakotawere bent on war; and as I heard from McCluskey, six large villagesalready gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, were dailycalling to the Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. McCluskeyhad just left and represented them as on their way to La Bonte's Camp, which they would reach in a week, UNLESS THEY SHOULD LEARN THAT THEREWERE NO BUFFALO THERE. I did not like this condition, for buffalothis season were rare in the neighborhood. There were also the twoMinnicongew villages that I mentioned before; but about noon, an Indiancame from Richard's Fort with the news that they were quarreling, breaking up, and dispersing. So much for the whisky of the emigrants!Finding themselves unable to drink the whole, they had sold the residueto these Indians, and it needed no prophet to foretell the results; aspark dropped into a powder magazine would not have produced a quickereffect. Instantly the old jealousies and rivalries and smothered feudsthat exist in an Indian village broke out into furious quarrels. Theyforgot the warlike enterprise that had already brought them threehundred miles. They seemed like ungoverned children inflamed with thefiercest passions of men. Several of them were stabbed in the drunkentumult; and in the morning they scattered and moved back toward theMissouri in small parties. I feared that, after all, the long-projectedmeeting and the ceremonies that were to attend it might never takeplace, and I should lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing theIndian under his most fearful and characteristic aspect; however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very fair probability of beingplundered and stripped, and, it might be, stabbed or shot into thebargain. Consoling myself with this reflection, I prepared to carry thenews, such as it was, to the camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found he had lost a shoe andbroken his tender white hoof against the rocks. Horses are shod at FortLaramie at the moderate rate of three dollars a foot; so I tiedHendrick to a beam in the corral, and summoned Roubidou, the blacksmith. Roubidou, with the hoof between his knees, was at work with hammer andfile, and I was inspecting the process, when a strange voice addressedme. 

"Two more gone under! Well, there is more of us left yet. Here's JeanGars and me off to the mountains to-morrow. Our turn will come next, Isuppose. It's a hard life, anyhow!"

I looked up and saw a little man, not much more than five feet high, butof very square and strong proportions. In appearance he was particularlydingy; for his old buckskin frock was black and polished with time andgrease, and his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeared to haveseen the roughest service. The first joint of each foot was entirelygone, having been frozen off several winters before, and his moccasinswere curtailed in proportion. His whole appearance and equipment bespokethe "free trapper. " He had a round ruddy face, animated with a spirit ofcarelessness and gayety not at all in accordance with the words he hadjust spoken. 

"Two more gone, " said I; "what do you mean by that?"

"Oh, " said he, "the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in themountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. They stabbed one behindhis back, and shot the other with his own rifle. That's the way we livehere! I mean to give up trapping after this year. My squaw says shewants a pacing horse and some red ribbons; I'll make enough beaver toget them for her, and then I'm done! I'll go below and live on a farm. "

"Your bones will dry on the prairie, Rouleau!" said another trapper, whowas standing by; a strong, brutal-looking fellow, with a face as surlyas a bull-dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and shuffle a dance on hisstumps of feet. 

"You'll see us, before long, passing up our way, " said the other man. "Well, " said I, "stop and take a cup of coffee with us"; and as it wasquite late in the afternoon, I prepared to leave the fort at once. 

As I rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was passing across the stream. "Whar are ye goin' stranger?" Thus I was saluted by two or three voicesat once. 

"About eighteen miles up the creek. "

"It's mighty late to be going that far! Make haste, ye'd better, andkeep a bright lookout for Indians!"

I thought the advice too good to be neglected. Fording the stream, Ipassed at a round trot over the plains beyond. But "the more haste, theworse speed. " I proved the truth in the proverb by the time I reachedthe hills three miles from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, andriding forward with more rapidity than caution, I lost sight of it. Ikept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie Creek, which I could seeat intervals darkly glistening in the evening sun, at the bottom ofthe woody gulf on my right. Half an hour before sunset I came upon itsbanks. There was something exciting in the wild solitude of the place. An antelope sprang suddenly from the sagebushes before me. As he leapedgracefully not thirty yards before my horse, I fired, and instantly hespun round and fell. Quite sure of him, I walked my horse toward him, leisurely reloading my rifle, when to my surprise he sprang up andtrotted rapidly away on three legs into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I had no time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing alongthe bottom of a deep valley, and chancing to look behind me, I saw inthe dim light that something was following. Supposing it to be wolf, Islid from my seat and sat down behind my horse to shoot it; but asit came up, I saw by its motions that it was another antelope. Itapproached within a hundred yards, arched its graceful neck, and gazedintently. I leveled at the white spot on its chest, and was about tofire when it started off, ran first to one side and then to the other, like a vessel tacking against a wind, and at last stretched away at fullspeed. Then it stopped again, looked curiously behind it, and trotted upas before; but not so boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing atme. I fired; it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. Measuring thedistance, I found it 204 paces. When I stood by his side, the antelopeturned his expiring eye upward. It was like a beautiful woman's, darkand rich. "Fortunate that I am in a hurry, " thought I; "I might betroubled with remorse, if I had time for it. "

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilled manner, I hung the meatat the back of my saddle, and rode on again. The hills (I could notremember one of them) closed around me. "It is too late, " thought I, "to go forward. I will stay here to-night, and look for the path in themorning. " As a last effort, however, I ascended a high hill, from which, to my great satisfaction, I could see Laramie Creek stretching beforeme, twisting from side to side amid ragged patches of timber; andfar off, close beneath the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the oldtrading fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. It was far frompleasant, in that uncertain light, to be pushing through the dense treesand shrubbery of the grove beyond. I listened anxiously for the footfallof man or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless brown bird, chirping among the branches. I was glad when I gained the open prairieonce more, where I could see if anything approached. When I came to themouth of Chugwater, it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I let myhorse take his own course. He trotted on with unerring instinct, and bynine o'clock was scrambling down the steep ascent into the meadows wherewe were encamped. While I was looking in vain for the light of thefire, Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud neigh, which wasimmediately answered in a shrill note from the distance. In a moment Iwas hailed from the darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, rifle in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw, the two Canadians and the Indian boys, were the soleinmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry Chatillon being still absent. Atnoon of the following day they came back, their horses looking none thebetter for the journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman was dead, andhis children must henceforward be exposed, without a protector, to thehardships and vicissitudes of Indian life. Even in the midst of hisgrief he had not forgotten his attachment to his bourgeois, for he hadprocured among his Indian relatives two beautifully ornamented buffalorobes, which he spread on the ground as a present to us. 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the history of hisjourney. When I went to the fort they left me, as I mentioned, at themouth of Chugwater. They followed the course of the little stream allday, traversing a desolate and barren country. Several times they cameupon the fresh traces of a large war party--the same, no doubt, fromwhom we had so narrowly escaped an attack. At an hour before sunset, without encountering a human being by the way, they came upon the lodgesof the squaw and her brothers, who, in compliance with Henry's message, had left the Indian village in order to join us at our camp. The lodgeswere already pitched, five in number, by the side of the stream. Thewoman lay in one of them, reduced to a mere skeleton. For some time shehad been unable to move or speak. Indeed, nothing had kept her alivebut the hope of seeing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faithfullyattached. No sooner did he enter the lodge than she revived, andconversed with him the greater part of the night. Early in the morningshe was lifted into a travail, and the whole party set out toward ourcamp. There were but five warriors; the rest were women and children. The whole were in great alarm at the proximity of the Crow war party, who would certainly have destroyed them without mercy had they met. Theyhad advanced only a mile or two, when they discerned a horseman, faroff, on the edge of the horizon. They all stopped, gathering together inthe greatest anxiety, from which they did not recover until long afterthe horseman disappeared; then they set out again. Henry was riding withShaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, when Mahto-Tatonka, a youngerbrother of the woman, hastily called after them. Turning back, theyfound all the Indians crowded around the travail in which the woman waslying. They reached her just in time to hear the death-rattle inher throat. In a moment she lay dead in the basket of the vehicle. Acomplete stillness succeeded; then the Indians raised in concert theircries of lamentation over the corpse, and among them Shaw clearlydistinguished those strange sounds resembling the word "Halleluyah, "which together with some other accidental coincidences has given riseto the absurd theory that the Indians are descended from the ten losttribes of Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the other relatives ofthe woman, should make valuable presents, to be placed by the side ofthe body at its last resting place. Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw setout for the camp and reached it, as we have seen, by hard pushing, atabout noon. Having obtained the necessary articles, they immediatelyreturned. It was very late and quite dark when they again reached thelodges. They were all placed in a deep hollow among the dreary hills. Four of them were just visible through the gloom, but the fifth andlargest was illuminated by the ruddy blaze of a fire within, glowingthrough the half-transparent covering of raw hides. There was a perfectstillness as they approached. The lodges seemed without a tenant. Not aliving thing was stirring--there was something awful in the scene. Theyrode up to the entrance of the lodge, and there was no sound but thetramp of their horses. A squaw came out and took charge of the animals, without speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge crowded withIndians; a fire was burning in the midst, and the mourners encircledit in a triple row. Room was made for the newcomers at the head of thelodge, a robe spread for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handedto them in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater part of thenight. At times the fire would subside into a heap of embers, until thedark figures seated around it were scarcely visible; then a squaw woulddrop upon it a piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright flame, instantlyspringing up, would reveal of a sudden the crowd of wild faces, motionless as bronze. The silence continued unbroken. It was a reliefto Shaw when daylight returned and he could escape from this house ofmourning. He and Henry prepared to return homeward; first, however, theyplaced the presents they had brought near the body of the squaw, which, most gaudily attired, remained in a sitting posture in one of thelodges. A fine horse was picketed not far off, destined to be killedthat morning for the service of her spirit, for the woman was lame, andcould not travel on foot over the dismal prairies to the villages ofthe dead. Food, too, was provided, and household implements, for her useupon this last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came immediately withShaw to the camp. It was some time before he entirely recovered from hisdejection. 

CHAPTER XI

SCENES AT THE CAMP

Reynal heard guns fired one day, at the distance of a mile or two fromthe camp. He grew nervous instantly. Visions of Crow war parties beganto haunt his imagination; and when we returned (for we were all absent), he renewed his complaints about being left alone with the Canadiansand the squaw. The day after, the cause of the alarm appeared. Fourtrappers, one called Moran, another Saraphin, and the others nicknamed"Rouleau" and "Jean Gras, " came to our camp and joined us. They it waswho fired the guns and disturbed the dreams of our confederate Reynal. They soon encamped by our side. Their rifles, dingy and battered withhard service, rested with ours against the old tree; their strong rudesaddles, their buffalo robes, their traps, and the few rough and simplearticles of their traveling equipment, were piled near our tent. Theirmountain horses were turned to graze in the meadow among our own; andthe men themselves, no less rough and hardy, used to lie half the day inthe shade of our tree lolling on the grass, lazily smoking, and tellingstories of their adventures; and I defy the annals of chivalry tofurnish the record of a life more wild and perilous than that of a RockyMountain trapper. 

With this efficient re-enforcement the agitation of Reynal's nervessubsided. He began to conceive a sort of attachment to our old campingground; yet it was time to change our quarters, since remaining too longon one spot must lead to certain unpleasant results not to be bornewith unless in a case of dire necessity. The grass no longer presented asmooth surface of turf; it was trampled into mud and clay. So we removedto another old tree, larger yet, that grew by the river side at afurlong's distance. Its trunk was full six feet in diameter; on oneside it was marked by a party of Indians with various inexplicablehieroglyphics, commemorating some warlike enterprise, and aloft amongthe branches were the remains of a scaffolding, where dead bodies hadonce been deposited, after the Indian manner. 

"There comes Bull-Bear, " said Henry Chatillon, as we sat on the grass atdinner. Looking up, we saw several horsemen coming over the neighboringhill, and in a moment four stately young men rode up and dismounted. One of them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a compound name which heinherited from his father, the most powerful chief in the Ogallallaband. One of his brothers and two other young men accompanied him. Weshook hands with the visitors, and when we had finished our meal--forthis is the orthodox manner of entertaining Indians, even the best ofthem--we handed to each a tin cup of coffee and a biscuit, at which theyejaculated from the bottom of their throats, "How! how!" a monosyllableby which an Indian contrives to express half the emotions that he issusceptible of. Then we lighted the pipe, and passed it to them as theysquatted on the ground. 

"Where is the village?"

"There, " said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; "it will come in twodays. "

"Will they go to the war?"

"Yes. "

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We welcomed this news mostcordially, and congratulated ourselves that Bordeaux's interestedefforts to divert The Whirlwind from his congenial vocation of bloodshedhad failed of success, and that no additional obstacles would interposebetween us and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous at La Bonte'sCamp. 

For that and several succeeding days, Mahto-Tatonka and his friendsremained our guests. They devoured the relics of our meals; they filledthe pipe for us and also helped us to smoke it. Sometimes they stretchedthemselves side by side in the shade, indulging in raillery andpractical jokes ill becoming the dignity of brave and aspiring warriors, such as two of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the third we hopedconfidently to see the Indian village. It did not come; so we rode outto look for it. In place of the eight hundred Indians we expected, wemet one solitary savage riding toward us over the prairie, who toldus that the Indians had changed their plans, and would not come withinthree days; still he persisted that they were going to the war. Takingalong with us this messenger of evil tidings, we retraced our footstepsto the camp, amusing ourselves by the way with execrating Indianinconstancy. When we came in sight of our little white tent under thebig tree, we saw that it no longer stood alone. A huge old lodge waserected close by its side, discolored by rain and storms, rotted withage, with the uncouth figures of horses and men, and outstretched handsthat were painted upon it, well-nigh obliterated. The long poles whichsupported this squalid habitation thrust themselves rakishly out fromits pointed top, and over its entrance were suspended a "medicine-pipe"and various other implements of the magic art. While we were yet at adistance, we observed a greatly increased population of various colorsand dimensions, swarming around our quiet encampment. Moran, thetrapper, having been absent for a day or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing all his family with him. He had taken to himself a wife forwhom he had paid the established price of one horse. This looks cheap atfirst sight, but in truth the purchase of a squaw is a transaction whichno man should enter into without mature deliberation, since it involvesnot only the payment of the first price, but the formidable burden offeeding and supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, whohold themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet white man. Theygather round like leeches, and drain him of all he has. 

Moran, like Reynal, had not allied himself to an aristocratic circle. His relatives occupied but a contemptible position in Ogallalla society;for among those wild democrats of the prairie, as among us, there arevirtual distinctions of rank and place; though this great advantage theyhave over us, that wealth has no part in determining such distinctions. Moran's partner was not the most beautiful of her sex, and he had theexceedingly bad taste to array her in an old calico gown bought froman emigrant woman, instead of the neat and graceful tunic of whiteneddeerskin worn ordinarily by the squaws. The moving spirit of theestablishment, in more senses than one, was a hideous old hag of eighty. Human imagination never conceived hobgoblin or witch more ugly than she. You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles of the leathery skinthat covered them. Her withered face more resembled an old skull thanthe countenance of a living being, even to the hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of which glittered her little black eyes. Her arms haddwindled away into nothing but whipcord and wire. Her hair, half black, half gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the ground, and her solegarment consisted of the remnant of a discarded buffalo robe tied roundher waist with a string of hide. Yet the old squaw's meager anatomy waswonderfully strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and didthe hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night she bustled aboutthe lodge, screaming like a screech-owl when anything displeased her. Then there was her brother, a "medicine-man, " or magician, equallygaunt and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and hisappetite, as we had full occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion. The other inmates of the lodge were a young bride and bridegroom; thelatter one of those idle, good-for nothing fellows who infest an Indianvillage as well as more civilized communities. He was fit neitherfor hunting nor for war; and one might infer as much from the stolidunmeaning expression of his face. The happy pair had just entered uponthe honeymoon. They would stretch a buffalo robe upon poles, so as toprotect them from the fierce rays of the sun, and spreading beneath thisrough canopy a luxuriant couch of furs, would sit affectionately sideby side for half the day, though I could not discover that muchconversation passed between them. Probably they had nothing to say; foran Indian's supply of topics for conversation is far from being copious. There were half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping about thecamp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or making miniaturelodges of sticks, as children of a different complexion build houses ofblocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Parties of two orthree or more would ride up and silently seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen suddenly appearedinto view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. They descended, andbehind them followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste and disorderdown the hill and over the plain below; horses, mules, and dogs, heavilyburdened travaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, anda host of children. For a full half-hour they continued to pour down;and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us, they soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, as ifby magic, 150 tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden the lonely plain wastransformed into the site of a miniature city. Countless horses weresoon grazing over the meadows around us, and the whole prairie wasanimated by restless figures careening on horseback, or sedatelystalking in their long white robes. The Whirlwind was come at last! Onequestion yet remained to be answered: "Will he go to the war, in orderthat we, with so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhatperilous rendezvous at La Bonte's Camp?"

Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision perplexed theircouncils. Indians cannot act in large bodies. Though their object be ofthe highest importance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series ofconnected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh all felt this totheir cost. The Ogallalla once had a war chief who could controlthem; but he was dead, and now they were left to the sway of their ownunsteady impulses. 

This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a prominent place inthe rest of the narrative, and perhaps it may not be amiss to glance foran instant at the savage people of which they form a part. The Dakota(I prefer this national designation to the unmeaning French name, Sioux)range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter's to the RockyMountains themselves. They are divided into several independent bands, united under no central government, and acknowledge no common head. The same language, usages, and superstitions form the sole bond betweenthem. They do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fightthe Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make incessant warupon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Mountains. As the whole people isdivided into bands, so each band is divided into villages. Each villagehas a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his personalqualities may command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a mere nominalchief; sometimes his authority is little short of absolute, and his fameand influence reach even beyond his own village; so that the whole bandto which he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogallalla. Courage, address, andenterprise may raise any warrior to the highest honor, especially ifhe be the son of a former chief, or a member of a numerous family, tosupport him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has reached the dignityof chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, haveformally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes any ofthe outward semblances of rank and honor. He knows too well on howfrail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertainsubjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns more squaws andmore horses, and goes better clad than he. Like the Teutonic chiefs ofold, he ingratiates himself with his young men by making them presents, thereby often impoverishing himself. Does he fail in gaining theirfavor, they will set his authority at naught, and may desert him at anymoment; for the usages of his people have provided no sanctions by whichhe may enforce his authority. Very seldom does it happen, at least amongthese western bands, that a chief attains to much power, unless he isthe head of a numerous family. Frequently the village is principallymade up of his relatives and descendants, and the wandering communityassumes much of the patriarchal character. A people so loosely united, torn, too, with ranking feuds and jealousies, can have little power orefficiency. 

The western Dakota have no fixed habitations. Hunting and fighting, theywander incessantly through summer and winter. Some are following theherds of buffalo over the waste of prairie; others are traversing theBlack Hills, thronging on horseback and on foot through the dark gulfsand somber gorges beneath the vast splintering precipices, and emergingat last upon the "Parks, " those beautiful but most perilous huntinggrounds. The buffalo supplies them with almost all the necessaries oflife; with habitations, food, clothing, and fuel; with strings fortheir bows, with thread, cordage, and trail-ropes for their horses, withcoverings for their saddles, with vessels to hold water, with boats tocross streams, with glue, and with the means of purchasing all that theydesire from the traders. When the buffalo are extinct, they too mustdwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of the neighboringtribes they cherish a deadly, rancorous hatred, transmitted from fatherto son, and inflamed by constant aggression and retaliation. Many timesa year, in every village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts aremade, the war parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by handfulsat a time against the enemy. This fierce and evil spirit awakens theirmost eager aspirations, and calls forth their greatest energies. It ischiefly this that saves them from lethargy and utter abasement. Withoutits powerful stimulus they would be like the unwarlike tribes beyondthe mountains, who are scattered among the caves and rocks like beasts, living on roots and reptiles. These latter have little of humanityexcept the form; but the proud and ambitious Dakota warrior cansometimes boast of heroic virtues. It is very seldom that distinctionand influence are attained among them by any other course than that ofarms. Their superstition, however, sometimes gives great power, to thoseamong them who pretend to the character of magicians. Their wild hearts, too, can feel the power of oratory, and yield deference to the mastersof it. 

But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can bear thestifling smoke and the close atmosphere. There, wedged close together, you will see a circle of stout warriors, passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and making themselves merry, after theirfashion. We were also infested by little copper-colored naked boys andsnake-eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise invitation, "Come and eat. "Then we would rise, cursing the pertinacity of Dakota hospitality, whichallowed scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, and to which wewere bound to do honor, unless we would offend our entertainers. Thisnecessity was particularly burdensome to me, as I was scarcely able towalk, from the effects of illness, and was of course poorly qualifiedto dispose of twenty meals a day. Of these sumptuous banquets I gave aspecimen in a former chapter, where the tragical fate of the little dogwas chronicled. So bounteous an entertainment looks like an outgushingof good will; but doubtless one-half at least of our kind hosts, hadthey met us alone and unarmed on the prairie, would have robbed us ofour horses, and perchance have bestowed an arrow upon us beside. Trustnot an Indian. Let your rifle be ever in your hand. Wear next your heartthe old chivalric motto SEMPER PARATUS. 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an old man, in good truththe Nestor of his tribe. We found him half sitting, half reclining on apile of buffalo robes; his long hair, jet-black even now, though hehad seen some eighty winters, hung on either side of his thin features. Those most conversant with Indians in their homes will scarcely believeme when I affirm that there was dignity in his countenance and mien. Hisgaunt but symmetrical frame, did not more clearly exhibit the wreck ofbygone strength, than did his dark, wasted features, still prominent andcommanding, bear the stamp of mental energies. I recalled, as I saw him, the eloquent metaphor of the Iroquois sachem: "I am an aged hemlock; thewinds of a hundred winters have whistled through my branches, and Iam dead at the top!" Opposite the patriarch was his nephew, the youngaspirant Mahto-Tatonka; and besides these, there were one or two womenin the lodge. 

The old man's story is peculiar, and singularly illustrative of asuperstitious custom that prevails in full force among many of theIndian tribes. He was one of a powerful family, renowned for theirwarlike exploits. When a very young man, he submitted to the singularrite to which most of the tribe subject themselves before enteringupon life. He painted his face black; then seeking out a cavern in asequestered part of the Black Hills, he lay for several days, fastingand praying to the Great Spirit. In the dreams and visions produced byhis weakened and excited state, he fancied like all Indians, that hesaw supernatural revelations. Again and again the form of an antelopeappeared before him. The antelope is the graceful peace spirit of theOgallalla; but seldom is it that such a gentle visitor presents itselfduring the initiatory fasts of their young men. The terrible grizzlybear, the divinity of war, usually appears to fire them with martialardor and thirst for renown. At length the antelope spoke. He told theyoung dreamer that he was not to follow the path of war; that a life ofpeace and tranquillity was marked out for him; that henceforward he wasto guide the people by his counsels and protect them from the evils oftheir own feuds and dissensions. Others were to gain renown by fightingthe enemy; but greatness of a different kind was in store for him. 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually determinethe whole course of the dreamer's life, for an Indian is bound by ironsuperstitions. From that time, Le Borgne, which was the only name bywhich we knew him, abandoned all thoughts of war and devoted himself tothe labors of peace. He told his vision to the people. They honored hiscommission and respected him in his novel capacity. 

A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka, who had transmittedhis names, his features, and many of his characteristic qualities to hisson. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's squaw, a circumstance whichproved of some advantage to us, as securing for us the friendship ofa family perhaps the most distinguished and powerful in the wholeOgallalla band. Mahto-Tatonka, in his rude way, was a hero. No chiefcould vie with him in warlike renown, or in power over his people. Hehad a fearless spirit, and a most impetuous and inflexible resolution. His will was law. He was politic and sagacious, and with true Indiancraft he always befriended the whites, well knowing that he mightthus reap great advantages for himself and his adherents. When he hadresolved on any course of conduct, he would pay to the warriors theempty compliment of calling them together to deliberate upon it, andwhen their debates were over, he would quietly state his own opinion, which no one ever disputed. The consequences of thwarting his imperiouswill were too formidable to be encountered. Woe to those who incurredhis displeasure! He would strike them or stab them on the spot; and thisact, which, if attempted by any other chief, would instantly have costhim his life, the awe inspired by his name enabled him to repeat againand again with impunity. In a community where, from immemorial time, no man has acknowledged any law but his own will, Mahto-Tatonka, by theforce of his dauntless resolution, raised himself to power little shortof despotic. His haughty career came at last to an end. He had a hostof enemies only waiting for their opportunity of revenge, and our oldfriend Smoke, in particular, together with all his kinsmen, hated himmost cordially. Smoke sat one day in his lodge in the midst of hisown village, when Mahto-Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching thedwelling of his enemy, called on him in a loud voice to come out, ifhe were a man, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, Mahto-Tatonkaproclaimed him a coward and an old woman, and striding close to theentrance of the lodge, stabbed the chief's best horse, which waspicketed there. Smoke was daunted, and even this insult failed to callhim forth. Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away; all made way for him, buthis hour of reckoning was near. 

One hot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of Smoke's kinsmenwere gathered around some of the Fur Company's men, who were tradingin various articles with them, whisky among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka wasalso there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own lodge, a frayarose between his adherents and the kinsmen of his enemy. The war-whoopwas raised, bullets and arrows began to fly, and the camp was inconfusion. The chief sprang up, and rushing in a fury from the lodgeshouted to the combatants on both sides to cease. Instantly--for theattack was preconcerted--came the reports of two or three guns, and thetwanging of a dozen bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded, pitchedforward headlong to the ground. Rouleau was present, and told me theparticulars. The tumult became general, and was not quelled untilseveral had fallen on both sides. When we were in the country the feudbetween the two families was still rankling, and not likely soon tocease. 

Thus died Mahto-Tatonka, but he left behind him a goodly army ofdescendants, to perpetuate his renown and avenge his fate. Besidesdaughters he had thirty sons, a number which need not stagger thecredulity of those who are best acquainted with Indian usages andpractices. We saw many of them, all marked by the same dark complexionand the same peculiar cast of features. Of these our visitor, youngMahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some reported him as likely tosucceed to his father's honors. Though he appeared not more thantwenty-one years old, he had oftener struck the enemy, and stolen morehorses and more squaws than any young man in the village. We of thecivilized world are not apt to attach much credit to the latterspecies of exploits; but horse-stealing is well known as an avenueto distinction on the prairies, and the other kind of depredation isesteemed equally meritorious. Not that the act can confer fame fromits own intrinsic merits. Any one can steal a squaw, and if he choosesafterward to make an adequate present to her rightful proprietor, the easy husband for the most part rests content, his vengeance fallsasleep, and all danger from that quarter is averted. Yet this isesteemed but a pitiful and mean-spirited transaction. The danger isaverted, but the glory of the achievement also is lost. Mahto-Tatonkaproceeded after a more gallant and dashing fashion. Out of several dozensquaws whom he had stolen, he could boast that he had never paid forone, but snapping his fingers in the face of the injured husband, haddefied the extremity of his indignation, and no one yet had dared to laythe finger of violence upon him. He was following close in the footstepsof his father. The young men and the young squaws, each in their way, admired him. The one would always follow him to war, and he was esteemedto have unrivaled charm in the eyes of the other. Perhaps his impunitymay excite some wonder. An arrow shot from a ravine, a stab given in thedark, require no great valor, and are especially suited to the Indiangenius; but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protection. It was not alone hiscourage and audacious will that enabled him to career so dashinglyamong his compeers. His enemies did not forget that he was one of thirtywarlike brethren, all growing up to manhood. Should they wreak theiranger upon him, many keen eyes would be ever upon them, many fiercehearts would thirst for their blood. The avenger would dog theirfootsteps everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be no better than anact of suicide. 

Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he was no dandy. Asamong us those of highest worth and breeding are most simple in mannerand attire, so our aspiring young friend was indifferent to the gaudytrappings and ornaments of his companions. He was content to rest hischances of success upon his own warlike merits. He never arrayed himselfin gaudy blanket and glittering necklaces, but left his statue-likeform, limbed like an Apollo of bronze, to win its way to favor. Hisvoice was singularly deep and strong. It sounded from his chest like thedeep notes of an organ. Yet after all, he was but an Indian. See him ashe lies there in the sun before our tent, kicking his heels in the airand cracking jokes with his brother. Does he look like a hero? See himnow in the hour of his glory, when at sunset the whole village emptiesitself to behold him, for to-morrow their favorite young partisan goesout against the enemy. His superb headdress is adorned with a crest ofthe war eagle's feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his brow, andsweeping far behind him. His round white shield hangs at his breast, with feathers radiating from the center like a star. His quiver is athis back; his tall lance in his hand, the iron point flashing againstthe declining sun, while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutterfrom the shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in his panoply, he ridesround and round within the great circle of lodges, balancing with agraceful buoyancy to the free movements of his war horse, while with asedate brow he sings his song to the Great Spirit. Young rival warriorslook askance at him; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admiration, boyswhoop and scream in a thrill of delight, and old women yell forth hisname and proclaim his praises from lodge to lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka, to come back to him, was the best of all our Indianfriends. Hour after hour and day after day, when swarms of savages ofevery age, sex, and degree beset our camp, he would lie in our tent, hislynx eye ever open to guard our property from pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The feast was finished, and the pipe began to circulate. It was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed my admiration of its form and dimensions. 

"If the Meneaska likes the pipe, " asked The Whirlwind, "why does he notkeep it?"

Such a pipe among the Ogallalla is valued at the price of a horse. A princely gift, thinks the reader, and worthy of a chieftain and awarrior. The Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such pitch. He gaveme the pipe, confidently expecting that I in return should make him apresent of equal or superior value. This is the implied condition ofevery gift among the Indians as among the Orientals, and should it notbe complied with the present is usually reclaimed by the giver. So Iarranged upon a gaudy calico handkerchief, an assortment of vermilion, tobacco, knives, and gunpowder, and summoning the chief to camp, assuredhim of my friendship and begged his acceptance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating HOW! HOW! he folded up the offerings and withdrew to hislodge. 

Several days passed and we and the Indians remained encamped side byside. They could not decide whether or not to go to war. Toward evening, scores of them would surround our tent, a picturesque group. Late oneafternoon a party of them mounted on horseback came suddenly in sightfrom behind some clumps of bushes that lined the bank of the stream, leading with them a mule, on whose back was a wretched negro, onlysustained in his seat by the high pommel and cantle of the Indiansaddle. His cheeks were withered and shrunken in the hollow of his jaws;his eyes were unnaturally dilated, and his lips seemed shriveled anddrawn back from his teeth like those of a corpse. When they brought himup before our tent, and lifted him from the saddle, he could not walk orstand, but he crawled a short distance, and with a look of utter miserysat down on the grass. All the children and women came pouring out ofthe lodges round us, and with screams and cries made a close circleabout him, while he sat supporting himself with his hands, and lookingfrom side to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to death!For thirty-three days he had wandered alone on the prairie, withoutweapon of any kind; without shoes, moccasins, or any other clothing thanan old jacket and pantaloons; without intelligence and skill to guidehis course, or any knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All thistime he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, wild onions, and threeeggs which he found in the nest of a prairie dove. He had not seen ahuman being. Utterly bewildered in the boundless, hopeless desert thatstretched around him, offering to his inexperienced eye no mark by whichto direct his course, he had walked on in despair till he could walk nolonger, and then crawled on his knees until the bone was laid bare. Hechose the night for his traveling, lying down by day to sleep in theglaring sun, always dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn cake heused to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. Every man in thecamp, both white and red, was astonished at his wonderful escape notonly from starvation but from the grizzly bears which abound in thatneighborhood, and the wolves which howled around him every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought him in. He hadrun away from his master about a year before and joined the party ofM. Richard, who was then leaving the frontier for the mountains. He hadlived with Richard ever since, until in the end of May he with Reynaland several other men went out in search of some stray horses, when hegot separated from the rest in a storm, and had never been heard of upto this time. Knowing his inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamedthat he could still be living. The Indians had found him lying exhaustedon the ground. 

As he sat there with the Indians gazing silently on him, his haggardface and glazed eye were disgusting to look upon. Delorier made hima bowl of gruel, but he suffered it to remain untasted before him. Atlength he languidly raised the spoon to his lips; again he did so, andagain; and then his appetite seemed suddenly inflamed into madness, forhe seized the bowl, swallowed all its contents in a few seconds, andeagerly demanded meat. This we refused, telling him to wait untilmorning, but he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small piece, whichhe devoured, tearing it like a dog. He said he must have more. We toldhim that his life was in danger if he ate so immoderately at first. He assented, and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but he musthave meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great indignation of thesenseless squaws, who, when we were not watching him, would slyly bringdried meat and POMMES BLANCHES, and place them on the ground by hisside. Still this was not enough for him. When it grew dark he contrivedto creep away between the legs of the horses and crawl over to theIndian village, about a furlong down the stream. Here he fed to hisheart's content, and was brought back again in the morning, when JeanGras, the trapper, put him on horseback and carried him to the fort. He managed to survive the effects of his insane greediness, andthough slightly deranged when we left this part of the country, he wasotherwise in tolerable health, and expressed his firm conviction thatnothing could ever kill him. 

When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay scene in the village. The warriors stalked sedately among the lodges, or along the marginof the streams, or walked out to visit the bands of horses that werefeeding over the prairie. Half the village population deserted the closeand heated lodges and betook themselves to the water; and here you mightsee boys and girls and young squaws splashing, swimming, and divingbeneath the afternoon sun, with merry laughter and screaming. Butwhen the sun was just resting above the broken peaks, and the purplemountains threw their prolonged shadows for miles over the prairie; whenour grim old tree, lighted by the horizontal rays, assumed an aspectof peaceful repose, such as one loves after scenes of tumult andexcitement; and when the whole landscape of swelling plains andscattered groves was softened into a tranquil beauty, then ourencampment presented a striking spectacle. Could Salvator Rosa havetransferred it to his canvas, it would have added new renown to hispencil. Savage figures surrounded our tent, with quivers at their backs, and guns, lances, or tomahawks in their hands. Some sat on horseback, motionless as equestrian statues, their arms crossed on their breasts, their eyes fixed in a steady unwavering gaze upon us. Some stood erect, wrapped from head to foot in their long white robes of buffalo hide. Some sat together on the grass, holding their shaggy horses by a rope, with their broad dark busts exposed to view as they suffered their robesto fall from their shoulders. Others again stood carelessly among thethrong, with nothing to conceal the matchless symmetry of their forms;and I do not exaggerate when I say that only on the prairie and in theVatican have I seen such faultless models of the human figure. See thatwarrior standing by the tree, towering six feet and a half in stature. Your eyes may trace the whole of his graceful and majestic height, anddiscover no defect or blemish. With his free and noble attitude, withthe bow in his hand, and the quiver at his back, he might seem, butfor his face, the Pythian Apollo himself. Such a figure rose before theimagination of West, when on first seeing the Belvidere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, "By God, a Mohawk!"

When the sky darkened and the stars began to appear; when the prairiewas involved in gloom and the horses were driven in and secured aroundthe camp, the crowd began to melt away. Fires gleamed around, duskilyrevealing the rough trappers and the graceful Indians. One of thefamilies near us would always be gathered about a bright blaze, thatdisplayed the shadowy dimensions of their lodge, and sent its lightsfar up among the masses of foliage above, gilding the dead and raggedbranches. Withered witchlike hags flitted around the blaze, and here forhour after hour sat a circle of children and young girls, laughing andtalking, their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy light. We couldhear the monotonous notes of the drum from the Indian village, with thechant of the war song, deadened in the distance, and the long chorus ofquavering yells, where the war dance was going on in the largest lodge. For several nights, too, we could hear wild and mournful cries, risingand dying away like the melancholy voice of a wolf. They came from thesisters and female relatives of Mahto-Tatonka, who were gashing theirlimbs with knives, and bewailing the death of Henry Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow late before all retired to rest in the camp. Then the embers of the fires would be glowing dimly, the men would bestretched in their blankets on the ground, and nothing could be heardbut the restless motions of the crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure and pain. Atthis time I was so reduced by illness that I could seldom walk withoutreeling like a drunken man, and when I rose from my seat upon the groundthe landscape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and lodgesseemed to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise and fall like theswells of the ocean. Such a state of things is by no means enviableanywhere. In a country where a man's life may at any moment depend onthe strength of his arm, or it may be on the activity of his legs, it ismore particularly inconvenient. Medical assistance of course there wasnone; neither had I the means of pursuing a system of diet; and sleepingon a damp ground, with an occasional drenching from a shower, wouldhardly be recommended as beneficial. I sometimes suffered theextremity of languor and exhaustion, and though at the time I feltno apprehensions of the final result, I have since learned that mysituation was a critical one. 

Besides other formidable inconveniences I owe it in a great measure tothe remote effects of that unlucky disorder that from deficienteyesight I am compelled to employ the pen of another in taking downthis narrative from my lips; and I have learned very effectually that aviolent attack of dysentery on the prairie is a thing too serious fora joke. I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long time, withexemplary patience, I lounged about the camp, or at the utmost staggeredover to the Indian village, and walked faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not do, and I bethought me of starvation. During five days Isustained life on one small biscuit a day. At the end of that time I wasweaker than before, but the disorder seemed shaken in its stronghold andvery gradually I began to resume a less rigid diet. No sooner had I doneso than the same detested symptoms revisited me; my old enemy resumedhis pertinacious assaults, yet not with his former violence orconstancy, and though before I regained any fair portion of my ordinarystrength weeks had elapsed, and months passed before the disorder leftme, yet thanks to old habits of activity, and a merciful Providence, Iwas able to sustain myself against it. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent and muse on the pastand the future, and when most overcome with lassitude, my eyes turnedalways toward the distant Black Hills. There is a spirit of energyand vigor in mountains, and they impart it to all who approach theirpresence. At that time I did not know how many dark superstitions andgloomy legends are associated with those mountains in the minds of theIndians, but I felt an eager desire to penetrate their hidden recesses, to explore the awful chasms and precipices, the black torrents, thesilent forests, that I fancied were concealed there. 

CHAPTER XII

ILL LUCK

A Canadian came from Fort Laramie, and brought a curious piece ofintelligence. A trapper, fresh from the mountains, had become enamoredof a Missouri damsel belonging to a family who with other emigrants hadbeen for some days encamped in the neighborhood of the fort. If braverybe the most potent charm to win the favor of the fair, then no wooercould be more irresistible than a Rocky Mountain trapper. In the presentinstance, the suit was not urged in vain. The lovers concerted a scheme, which they proceeded to carry into effect with all possible dispatch. The emigrant party left the fort, and on the next succeeding night butone encamped as usual, and placed a guard. A little after midnightthe enamored trapper drew near, mounted on a strong horse and leadinganother by the bridle. Fastening both animals to a tree, he stealthilymoved toward the wagons, as if he were approaching a band of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the guard, who was probably half asleep, he methis mistress by appointment at the outskirts of the camp, mounted her onhis spare horse, and made off with her through the darkness. The sequelof the adventure did not reach our ears, and we never learned how theimprudent fair one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a recklesstrapper for a bridegroom. 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined to move. They hadresolved after all their preparations not to go to the rendezvous at LaBonte's Camp, but to pass through the Black Hills and spend a few weeksin hunting the buffalo on the other side, until they had killed enoughto furnish them with a stock of provisions and with hides to make theirlodges for the next season. This done, they were to send out a smallindependent war party against the enemy. Their final determination leftus in some embarrassment. Should we go to La Bonte's Camp, it wasnot impossible that the other villages would prove as vacillating andindecisive as The Whirlwinds, and that no assembly whatever would takeplace. Our old companion Reynal had conceived a liking for us, or ratherfor our biscuit and coffee, and for the occasional small presents whichwe made him. He was very anxious that we should go with the villagewhich he himself intended to accompany. He declared he was certain thatno Indians would meet at the rendezvous, and said moreover that itwould be easy to convey our cart and baggage through the Black Hills. Insaying this, he told as usual an egregious falsehood. Neither he norany white man with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure defilesthrough which the Indians intended to make their way. I passed themafterward, and had much ado to force my distressed horse along thenarrow ravines, and through chasms where daylight could scarcelypenetrate. Our cart might as easily have been conveyed over the summitof Pike's Peak. Anticipating the difficulties and uncertainties of anattempt to visit the rendezvous, we recalled the old proverb about "Abird in the hand, " and decided to follow the village. 

Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the morning of the 1stof July. I was so weak that the aid of a potent auxiliary, a spoonful ofwhisky swallowed at short intervals, alone enabled me to sit on my hardylittle mare Pauline through the short journey of that day. For half amile before us and half a mile behind, the prairie was covered farand wide with the moving throng of savages. The barren, broken plainstretched away to the right and left, and far in front rose the gloomyprecipitous ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed forward to the head ofthe scattered column, passing the burdened travaux, the heavily ladenpack horses, the gaunt old women on foot, the gay young squaws onhorseback, the restless children running among the crowd, old menstriding along in their white buffalo robes, and groups of youngwarriors mounted on their best horses. Henry Chatillon, looking backwardover the distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly that a horseman wasapproaching, and in truth we could just discern a small black speckslowly moving over the face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on awall. It rapidly grew larger as it approached. 

"White man, I b'lieve, " said Henry; "look how he ride! Indian never ridethat way. Yes; he got rifle on the saddle before him. "

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, but we soon saw himagain, and as he came riding at a gallop toward us through the crowd ofIndians, his long hair streaming in the wind behind him, we recognizedthe ruddy face and old buckskin frock of Jean Gras the trapper. He wasjust arrived from Fort Laramie, where he had been on a visit, andsaid he had a message for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of Henry'sfriends, was lately come from the settlements, and intended to go with aparty of men to La Bonte's Camp, where, as Jean Gras assured us, ten ortwelve villages of Indians would certainly assemble. Bisonette desiredthat we would cross over and meet him there, and promised that his menshould protect our horses and baggage while we went among the Indians. Shaw and I stopped our horses and held a council, and in an evil hourresolved to go. 

For the rest of that day's journey our course and that of the Indianswas the same. In less than an hour we came to where the high barrenprairie terminated, sinking down abruptly in steep descent; and standingon these heights, we saw below us a great level meadow. Laramie Creekbounded it on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the declivities, and passing with its shallow and rapid current just below us. We saton horseback, waiting and looking on, while the whole savage array wentpouring past us, hurrying down the descent and spreading themselvesover the meadow below. In a few moments the plain was swarming with themoving multitude, some just visible, like specks in the distance, othersstill passing on, pressing down, and fording the stream with bustleand confusion. On the edge of the heights sat half a dozen of the elderwarriors, gravely smoking and looking down with unmoved faces on thewild and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on the margin of the stream. For the sakeof quiet we pitched our tent among some trees at half a mile's distance. In the afternoon we were in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups ofchildren and young girls were laughing gayly on the outside of thelodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows were removed from the talltripods on which they usually hung before the dwellings of their owners. The warriors were mounting their horses, and one by one riding away overthe prairie toward the neighboring hills. 

Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. An old woman, withtrue Indian hospitality, brought a bowl of boiled venison and placed itbefore us. We amused ourselves with watching half a dozen young squawswho were playing together and chasing each other in and out of one ofthe lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war-whoop came pealing fromthe hills. A crowd of horsemen appeared, rushing down their sides andriding at full speed toward the village, each warrior's long hair flyingbehind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they approached, theconfused throng assumed a regular order, and entering two by two, theycircled round the area at full gallop, each warrior singing his war songas he rode. Some of their dresses were splendid. They wore superbcrests of feathers and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed with thescalp-locks of their enemies; their shields too were often flutteringwith the war eagle's feathers. All had bows and arrows at their back;some carried long lances, and a few were armed with guns. The WhiteShield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their head, mountedon a black-and-white horse. Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers took no partin this parade, for they were in mourning for their sister, and were allsitting in their lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to foot withwhite clay, and a lock of hair cut from each of their foreheads. 

The warriors circled three times round the village; and as eachdistinguished champion passed, the old women would scream out his namein honor of his bravery, and to incite the emulation of the youngerwarriors. Little urchins, not two years old, followed the warlikepageant with glittering eyes, and looked with eager wonder andadmiration at those whose honors were proclaimed by the public voice ofthe village. Thus early is the lesson of war instilled into the mindof an Indian, and such are the stimulants which incite his thirst formartial renown. 

The procession rode out of the village as it had entered it, and in halfan hour all the warriors had returned again, dropping quietly in, singlyor in parties of two or three. 

As the sun rose next morning we looked across the meadow, and could seethe lodges leveled and the Indians gathering together in preparation toleave the camp. Their course lay to the westward. We turned toward thenorth with our men, the four trappers following us, with the Indianfamily of Moran. We traveled until night. I suffered not a little frompain and weakness. We encamped among some trees by the side of a littlebrook, and here during the whole of the next day we lay waiting forBisonette, but no Bisonette appeared. Here also two of our trapperfriends left us, and set out for the Rocky Mountains. On the secondmorning, despairing of Bisonette's arrival we resumed our journey, traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorched plains, whereno living thing appeared save here and there an antelope flying beforeus like the wind. When noon came we saw an unwonted and most welcomesight; a rich and luxuriant growth of trees, marking the course of alittle stream called Horseshoe Creek. We turned gladly toward it. Therewere lofty and spreading trees, standing widely asunder, and supportinga thick canopy of leaves, above a surface of rich, tall grass. Thestream ran swiftly, as clear as crystal, through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over its bed of white sand and darkening again as it entered adeep cavern of leaves and boughs. I was thoroughly exhausted, and flungmyself on the ground, scarcely able to move. All that afternoon I layin the shade by the side of the stream, and those bright woods andsparkling waters are associated in my mind with recollections oflassitude and utter prostration. When night came I sat down by thefire, longing, with an intensity of which at this moment I can hardlyconceive, for some powerful stimulant. 

In the morning as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever animated thatdesolate wilderness. We advanced and soon were surrounded by tall barehills, overspread from top to bottom with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, and withscarcely the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tallmisshapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no sight or sound ofman or beast, or any living thing, although behind those trees was thelong-looked-for place of rendezvous, where we fondly hoped to have foundthe Indians congregated by thousands. We looked and listened anxiously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and forced our horses throughthe trees. There were copses of some extent beyond, with a scanty streamcreeping through their midst; and as we pressed through the yieldingbranches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length we caught aglimpse of the prairie beyond. Soon we emerged upon it, and saw, nota plain covered with encampments and swarming with life, but a vastunbroken desert stretching away before us league upon league, without abush or a tree or anything that had life. We drew rein and gave to thewinds our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal race of America. Our journey was in vain and much worse than in vain. For myself, I wasvexed and disappointed beyond measure; as I well knew that a slightaggravation of my disorder would render this false step irrevocable, andmake it quite impossible to accomplish effectively the design which hadled me an arduous journey of between three and four thousand miles. Tofortify myself as well as I could against such a contingency, I resolvedthat I would not under any circumstances attempt to leave the countryuntil my object was completely gained. 

And where were the Indians? They were assembled in great numbers at aspot about twenty miles distant, and there at that very moment theywere engaged in their warlike ceremonies. The scarcity of buffalo inthe vicinity of La Bonte's Camp, which would render their supply ofprovisions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them fromassembling there; but of all this we knew nothing until some weeksafter. 

Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward, I, though much more vexedthan he, was not strong enough to adopt this convenient vent to myfeelings; so I followed at a quiet pace, but in no quiet mood. Werode up to a solitary old tree, which seemed the only place fit forencampment. Half its branches were dead, and the rest were so scantilyfurnished with leaves that they cast but a meager and wretched shade, and the old twisted trunk alone furnished sufficient protection from thesun. We threw down our saddles in the strip of shadow that it cast, andsat down upon them. In silent indignation we remained smoking for anhour or more, shifting our saddles with the shifting shadow, for the sunwas intolerably hot. 

CHAPTER XIII

HUNTING INDIANS

At last we had reached La Bonte's Camp, toward which our eyes had turnedso long. Of all weary hours, those that passed between noon and sunsetof the day when we arrived there may bear away the palm of exquisitediscomfort. I lay under the tree reflecting on what course to pursue, watching the shadows which seemed never to move, and the sun whichremained fixed in the sky, and hoping every moment to see the men andhorses of Bisonette emerging from the woods. Shaw and Henry had riddenout on a scouting expedition, and did not return until the sun wassetting. There was nothing very cheering in their faces nor in the newsthey brought. 

"We have been ten miles from here, " said Shaw. "We climbed the highestbutte we could find, and could not see a buffalo or Indian; nothing butprairie for twenty miles around us. "

Henry's horse was quite disabled by clambering up and down the sides ofravines, and Shaw's was severely fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I proposed to Shawto wait one day longer in hopes of Bisonette's arrival, and if heshould not come to send Delorier with the cart and baggage back toFort Laramie, while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village andattempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, not havingthe same motive for hunting Indians that I had, was averse to theplan; I therefore resolved to go alone. This design I adopted veryunwillingly, for I knew that in the present state of my health theattempt would be extremely unpleasant, and, as I considered, hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette would appear in the course of the following day, and bring us some information by which to direct our course, and enableme to accomplish my purpose by means less objectionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the subsistence of theparty in my absence; so I called Raymond, and ordered him to prepare toset out with me. Raymond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having succeeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bedunder the cart. He was a heavy-molded fellow, with a broad face exactlylike an owl's, expressing the most impenetrable stupidity and entireself-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of stubbornfidelity, an insensibility to danger, and a kind of instinct orsagacity, which sometimes led him right, where better heads than hiswere at a loss. Besides this, he knew very well how to handle a rifleand picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down upon us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our Indian associates was baking in the rays, and ourrifles, as they leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch. There was a dead silence through our camp and all around it, unbrokenexcept by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting theirforeheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. The Indians keptclose within their lodge except the newly married pair, who were seatedtogether under an awning of buffalo robes, and the old conjurer, who, with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft like aturkey-buzzard among the dead branches of an old tree, constantly on thelookout for enemies. He would have made a capital shot. A rifle bullet, skillfully planted, would have brought him tumbling to the ground. Surely, I thought, there could be no more harm in shooting such ahideous old villain, to see how ugly he would look when he was dead, than in shooting the detestable vulture which he resembled. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. 

"I will ride back, " said he, "to Horseshoe Creek, and see if Bisonetteis there. "

"I would go with you, " I answered, "but I must reserve all the strengthI have. "

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied myself in cleaning myrifle and pistols, and making other preparations for the journey. Aftersupper, Henry Chatillon and I lay by the fire, discussing the propertiesof that admirable weapon, the rifle, in the use of which he could fairlyoutrival Leatherstocking himself. 

It was late before I wrapped myself in my blanket and lay down for thenight, with my head on my saddle. Shaw had not returned, but this gaveno uneasiness, for we presumed that he had fallen in with Bisonette, andwas spending the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained instrength and health, but about midnight an attack of pain awoke me, andfor some hours I felt no inclination to sleep. The moon was quivering onthe broad breast of the Platte; nothing could be heard except those lowinexplicable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, which no one whohas spent the night alone amid deserts and forests will be at a loss tounderstand. As I was falling asleep, a familiar voice, shouting from thedistance, awoke me again. A rapid step approached the camp, and Shaw onfoot, with his gun in his hand, hastily entered. 

"Where's your horse?" said I, raising myself on my elbow. 

"Lost!" said Shaw. "Where's Delorier?"

"There, " I replied, pointing to a confused mass of blankets and buffalorobes. 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up sprang our faithfulCanadian. 

"Come, Delorier; stir up the fire, and get me something to eat. "

"Where's Bisonette?" asked I. 

"The Lord knows; there's nobody at Horseshoe Creek. "

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of our fires, he had tied hishorse to the tree while he bathed in the stream. Something startled hishorse, who broke loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to catchhim. Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles to camp. So he abandonedthe attempt, and set out on foot to join us. The greater part of hisperilous and solitary work was performed in darkness. His moccasins wereworn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat down to eat, however, with the usual equanimity of his temper not at all disturbedby his misfortune, and my last recollection before falling asleep was ofShaw, seated cross-legged before the fire, smoking his pipe. Thehorse, I may as well mention here, was found the next morning by HenryChatillon. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in the air, a graytwilight involved the prairie, and above its eastern verge was a streakof cold red sky. I called to the men, and in a moment a fire was blazingbrightly in the dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready. Wesat down together on the grass, to the last civilized meal which Raymondand I were destined to enjoy for some time. 

"Now, bring in the horses. "

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the fire. She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened after Paul Dorion, from whom I hadprocured her in exchange for Pontiac. She did not look as if equippedfor a morning pleasure ride. In front of the black, high-bowed mountainsaddle, holsters, with heavy pistols, were fastened. A pair of saddlebags, a blanket tightly rolled, a small parcel of Indian presents tiedup in a buffalo skin, a leather bag of flour, and a smaller one of teawere all secured behind, and a long trail-rope was wound round herneck. Raymond had a strong black mule, equipped in a similar manner. Wecrammed our powder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 

"I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the 1st of August, " said I to Shaw. 

"That is, " replied he, "if we don't meet before that. I think I shallfollow after you in a day or two. "

This in fact he attempted, and he would have succeeded if he had notencountered obstacles against which his resolute spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he sent Delorier to the fort with the cartand baggage, and set out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon; but atremendous thunderstorm had deluged the prairie, and nearly obliteratednot only our trail but that of the Indians themselves. They followedalong the base of the mountains, at a loss in which direction to go. They encamped there, and in the morning Shaw found himself poisoned byivy in such a manner that it was impossible for him to travel. So theyturned back reluctantly toward Fort Laramie. Shaw's limbs were swollento double their usual size, and he rode in great pain. They encampedagain within twenty miles of the fort, and reached it early on thefollowing morning. Shaw lay seriously ill for a week, and remained atthe fort till I rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. We shook hands with our friends, rode outupon the prairie, and clambering the sandy hollows that were channeledin the sides of the hills gained the high plains above. If a curse hadbeen pronounced upon the land it could not have worn an aspect of moredreary and forlorn barrenness. There were abrupt broken hills, deephollows, and wide plains; but all alike glared with an insupportablewhiteness under the burning sun. The country, as if parched by the heat, had cracked into innumerable fissures and ravines, that not a littleimpeded our progress. Their steep sides were white and raw, and alongthe bottom we several times discovered the broad tracks of the terrificgrizzly bear, nowhere more abundant than in this region. The ridges ofthe hills were hard as rock, and strewn with pebbles of flint and coarsered jasper; looking from them, there was nothing to relieve the desertuniformity of the prospect, save here and there a pine-tree clinging atthe edge of a ravine, and stretching out its rough, shaggy arms. Underthe scorching heat these melancholy trees diffused their peculiarresinous odor through the sultry air. There was something in it, as Iapproached them, that recalled old associations; the pine-clad mountainsof New England, traversed in days of health and buoyancy, rose like areality before my fancy. In passing that arid waste I was goaded witha morbid thirst produced by my disorder, and I thought with a longingdesire on the crystal treasure poured in such wasteful profusion fromour thousand hills. Shutting my eyes, I more than half believed thatI heard the deep plunging and gurgling of waters in the bowels of theshaded rocks. I could see their dark ice glittering far down amid thecrevices, and the cold drops trickling from the long green mosses. 

When noon came, we found a little stream, with a few trees and bushes;and here we rested for an hour. Then we traveled on, guided by the sun, until, just before sunset, we reached another stream, called BitterCotton-wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm-beaten treesgrew at intervals along its bank. Near the foot of one of the trees weflung down our saddles, and hobbling our horses turned them loose tofeed. The little stream was clear and swift, and ran musically on itswhite sands. Small water birds were splashing in the shallows, andfilling the air with their cries and flutterings. The sun was justsinking among gold and crimson clouds behind Mount Laramie. I wellremember how I lay upon a log by the margin of the water, and watchedthe restless motions of the little fish in a deep still nook below. Strange to say, I seemed to have gained strength since the morning, andalmost felt a sense of returning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began to howl. One deepvoice commenced, and it was answered in awful responses from the hills, the plains, and the woods along the stream above and below us. Suchsounds need not and do not disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. Wepicketed the mare and the mule close at our feet, and did not wake untildaylight. Then we turned them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hourbefore starting. We were getting ready our morning's meal, when Raymondsaw an antelope at half a mile's distance, and said he would go andshoot it. 

"Your business, " said. I, "is to look after the animals. I am too weakto do much, if anything happens to them, and you must keep within sightof the camp. "

Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his hand. The animalshad passed across the stream, and were feeding among the long grasson the other side, much tormented by the attacks of the numerous largegreen-headed flies. As I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I wadedthrough the stream to look after them. To my vexation and alarm Idiscovered them at a great distance, galloping away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken, and the mule, stillfettered, following with awkward leaps. I fired my rifle and shouted torecall Raymond. In a moment he came running through the stream, with ared handkerchief bound round his head. I pointed to the fugitives, andordered him to pursue them. Muttering a "Sacre!" between his teeth, heset out at full speed, still swinging his rifle in his hand. I walkedup to the top of a hill, and looking away over the prairie, could justdistinguish the runaways, still at full gallop. Returning to the fire, I sat down at the foot of a tree. Wearily and anxiously hour afterhour passed away. The old loose bark dangling from the trunk behindme flapped to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up theirincessant drowsy humming; but other than this, there was no sight norsound of life throughout the burning landscape. The sun rose higher andhigher, until the shadows fell almost perpendicularly, and I knew thatit must be noon. It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could berecovered. If they were not, my situation was one of serious difficulty. Shaw, when I left him had decided to move that morning, but whitherhe had not determined. To look for him would be a vain attempt. FortLaramie was forty miles distant, and I could not walk a mile withoutgreat effort. Not then having learned the sound philosophy of yieldingto disproportionate obstacles, I resolved to continue in any event thepursuit of the Indians. Only one plan occurred to me; this was to sendRaymond to the fort with an order for more horses, while I remained onthe spot, awaiting his return, which might take place within three days. But the adoption of this resolution did not wholly allay my anxiety, forit involved both uncertainty and danger. To remain stationary and alonefor three days, in a country full of dangerous Indians, was not the mostflattering of prospects; and protracted as my Indian hunt must be bysuch delay, it was not easy to foretell its ultimate result. Revolvingthese matters, I grew hungry; and as our stock of provisions, exceptfour or five pounds of flour, was by this time exhausted, I left thecamp to see what game I could find. Nothing could be seen except four orfive large curlew, which, with their loud screaming, were wheeling overmy head, and now and then alighting upon the prairie. I shot two ofthem, and was about returning, when a startling sight caught my eye. Asmall, dark object, like a human head, suddenly appeared, and vanishedamong the thick hushes along the stream below. In that country everystranger is a suspected enemy. Instinctively I threw forward the muzzleof my rifle. In a moment the bushes were violently shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy I recognized thedowncast, disconsolate countenance of the black mule and the yellowvisage of Pauline. Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took charge of the animalswhile he kneeled down by the side of the stream to drink. He had keptthe runaways in sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie Creek, adistance of more than ten miles; and here with great difficulty he hadsucceeded in catching them. I saw that he was unarmed, and asked himwhat he had done with his rifle. It had encumbered him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairie, thinking that he could find iton his return; but in this he had failed. The loss might prove a veryformidable one. I was too much rejoiced however at the recovery of theanimals to think much about it; and having made some tea for Raymond ina tin vessel which we had brought with us, I told him that I would givehim two hours for resting before we set out again. He had eaten nothingthat day; but having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. Ipicketed the animals among the richest grass that I could find, and madefires of green wood to protect them from the flies; then sitting downagain by the tree, I watched the slow movements of the sun, begrudgingevery moment that passed. 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Raymond. We saddled andset out again, but first we went in search of the lost rifle, and inthe course of an hour Raymond was fortunate enough to find it. Then weturned westward, and moved over the hills and hollows at a slow pacetoward the Black Hills. The heat no longer tormented us, for a cloudwas before the sun. Yet that day shall never be marked with white in mycalendar. The air began to grow fresh and cool, the distant mountainsfrowned more gloomily, there was a low muttering of thunder, and denseblack masses of cloud rose heavily behind the broken peaks. At firstthey were gayly fringed with silver by the afternoon sun, but soon thethick blackness overspread the whole sky, and the desert around uswas wrapped in deep gloom. I scarcely heeded it at the time, but nowI cannot but feel that there was an awful sublimity in the hoarsemurmuring of the thunder, in the somber shadows that involved themountains and the plain. The storm broke. It came upon us with a zigzagblinding flash, with a terrific crash of thunder, and with a hurricanethat howled over the prairie, dashing floods of water against us. Raymond looked round, and cursed the merciless elements. There seemedno shelter near, but we discerned at length a deep ravine gashed in thelevel prairie, and saw half way down its side an old pine tree, whoserough horizontal boughs formed a sort of penthouse against the tempest. We found a practicable passage, and hastily descending, fastened ouranimals to some large loose stones at the bottom; then climbing up, wedrew our blankets over our heads, and seated ourselves close beneath theold tree. Perhaps I was no competent judge of time, but it seemed to methat we were sitting there a full hour, while around us poured a delugeof rain, through which the rocks on the opposite side of the gulf werebarely visible. The first burst of the tempest soon subsided, but therain poured steadily. At length Raymond grew impatient, and scramblingout of the ravine, he gained the level prairie above. 

"What does the weather look like?" asked I, from my seat under the tree. 

"It looks bad, " he answered; "dark all around, " and again he descendedand sat down by my side. Some ten minutes elapsed. 

"Go up again, " said I, "and take another look;" and he clambered up theprecipice. "Well, how is it?"

"Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over the top of themountain. "

The rain by this time had begun to abate; and going down to the bottomof the ravine, we loosened the animals, who were standing up to theirknees in water. Leading them up the rocky throat of the ravine, wereached the plain above. "Am I, " I thought to myself, "the same man whoa few months since, was seated, a quiet student of BELLES-LETTRES, in acushioned arm-chair by a sea-coal fire?"

All around us was obscurity; but the bright spot above the mountaintopsgrew wider and ruddier, until at length the clouds drew apart, anda flood of sunbeams poured down from heaven, streaming along theprecipices, and involving them in a thin blue haze, as soft and lovelyas that which wraps the Apennines on an evening in spring. Rapidly theclouds were broken and scattered, like routed legions of evil spirits. The plain lay basking in sunbeams around us; a rainbow arched the desertfrom north to south, and far in front a line of woods seemed invitingus to refreshment and repose. When we reached them, they were glisteningwith prismatic dewdrops, and enlivened by the song and flutterings ofa hundred birds. Strange winged insects, benumbed by the rain, wereclinging to the leaves and the bark of the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The animals turned eagerlyto feed on the soft rich grass, while I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and gazed on the evening landscape. The mountains, whose sternfeatures had lowered upon us with so gloomy and awful a frown, nowseemed lighted up with a serene, benignant smile, and the green wavingundulations of the plain were gladdened with the rich sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied as I was, my spirit grew lighter at the view, and Idrew from it an augury of good for my future prospects. 

When morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing violently, though I hadapparently received no injury. We mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the trees, and began our journey over the plain beyond. And now, as we rode slowly along, we looked anxiously on every handfor traces of the Indians, not doubting that the village had passedsomewhere in that vicinity; but the scanty shriveled grass was not morethan three or four inches high, and the ground was of such unyieldinghardness that a host might have marched over it and left scarcely atrace of its passage. Up hill and down hill, and clambering throughravines, we continued our journey. As we were skirting the foot of ahill I saw Raymond, who was some rods in advance, suddenly jerking thereins of his mule. Sliding from his seat, and running in a crouchingposture up a hollow, he disappeared; and then in an instant I heard thesharp quick crack of his rifle. A wounded antelope came running on threelegs over the hill. I lashed Pauline and made after him. My fleet littlemare soon brought me by his side, and after leaping and bounding fora few moments in vain, he stood still, as if despairing of escape. Hisglistening eyes turned up toward my face with so piteous a look that itwas with feelings of infinite compunction that I shot him through thehead with a pistol. Raymond skinned and cut him up, and we hung theforequarters to our saddles, much rejoiced that our exhausted stock ofprovisions was renewed in such good time. 

Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the cloudy verge of theprairie before us lines of trees and shadowy groves that marked thecourse of Laramie Creek. Some time before noon we reached its banksand began anxiously to search them for footprints of the Indians. Wefollowed the stream for several miles, now on the shore and now wadingin the water, scrutinizing every sand-bar and every muddy bank. Solong was the search that we began to fear that we had left the trailundiscovered behind us. At length I heard Raymond shouting, and saw himjump from his mule to examine some object under the shelving bank. Irode up to his side. It was the clear and palpable impression of anIndian moccasin. Encouraged by this we continued our search, and atlast some appearances on a soft surface of earth not far from the shoreattracted my eye; and going to examine them I found half a dozen tracks, some made by men and some by children. Just then Raymond observed acrossthe stream the mouth of a small branch entering it from the south. Heforded the water, rode in at the opening, and in a moment I heard himshouting again, so I passed over and joined him. The little branch had abroad sandy bed, along which the water trickled in a scanty stream; andon either bank the bushes were so close that the view was completelyintercepted. I found Raymond stooping over the footprints of three orfour horses. Proceeding we found those of a man, then those of a child, then those of more horses; and at last the bushes on each bank werebeaten down and broken, and the sand plowed up with a multitude offootsteps, and scored across with the furrows made by the lodge-polesthat had been dragged through. It was now certain that we had foundthe trail. I pushed through the bushes, and at a little distance on theprairie beyond found the ashes of a hundred and fifty lodge fires, withbones and pieces of buffalo robes scattered around them, and in someinstances the pickets to which horses had been secured still standingin the ground. Elated by our success we selected a convenient tree, andturning the animals loose, prepared to make a meal from the fat haunchof our victim. 

Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonderfully. I had gained bothhealth and strength since leaving La Bonte's Camp. Raymond and I made ahearty meal together in high spirits, for we rashly presumed that havingfound one end of the trail we should have little difficulty in reachingthe other. But when the animals were led in we found that our old illluck had not ceased to follow us close. As I was saddling Pauline I sawthat her eye was as dull as lead, and the hue of her yellow coat visiblydarkened. I placed my foot in the stirrup to mount, when instantly shestaggered and fell flat on her side. Gaining her feet with an effort shestood by the fire with a drooping head. Whether she had been bitten bya snake or poisoned by some noxious plant or attacked by a suddendisorder, it was hard to say; but at all events her sickness wassufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I succeeded in a second attemptto mount her, and with a slow pace we moved forward on the trail of theIndians. It led us up a hill and over a dreary plain; and here, to ourgreat mortification, the traces almost disappeared, for the ground washard as adamant; and if its flinty surface had ever retained the printof a hoof, the marks had been washed away by the deluge of yesterday. AnIndian village, in its disorderly march, is scattered over the prairie, often to the width of full half a mile; so that its trail is nowhereclearly marked, and the task of following it is made doubly wearisomeand difficult. By good fortune plenty of large ant-hills, a yard or morein diameter, were scattered over the plain, and these were frequentlybroken by the footprints of men and horses, and marked by traces of thelodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the prickly-pear, also bruised fromthe same causes, helped a little to guide us; so inch by inch we movedalong. Often we lost the trail altogether, and then would recover itagain, but late in the afternoon we found ourselves totally at fault. We stood alone without clew to guide us. The broken plain expandedfor league after league around us, and in front the long dark ridge ofmountains was stretching from north to south. Mount Laramie, a littleon our right, towered high above the rest and from a dark valley justbeyond one of its lower declivities, we discerned volumes of white smokeslowly rolling up into the clear air. 

"I think, " said Raymond, "some Indians must be there. Perhaps wehad better go. " But this plan was not rashly to be adopted, and wedetermined still to continue our search after the lost trail. Our goodstars prompted us to this decision, for we afterward had reason tobelieve, from information given us by the Indians, that the smoke wasraised as a decoy by a Crow war party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or water nearer than thefoot of the mountains. So thither we turned, directing our course towardthe point where Laramie Creek issues forth upon the prairie. When wereached it the bare tops of the mountains were still brightened withsunshine. The little river was breaking with a vehement and angrycurrent from its dark prison. There was something in the near vicinityof the mountains, in the loud surging of the rapids, wonderfullycheering and exhilarating; for although once as familiar as home itself, they had been for months strangers to my experience. There was a richgrass-plot by the river's bank, surrounded by low ridges, which wouldeffectually screen ourselves and our fire from the sight of wanderingIndians. Here among the grass I observed numerous circles of largestones, which, as Raymond said, were traces of a Dakota winterencampment. We lay down and did not awake till the sun was up. A largerock projected from the shore, and behind it the deep water was slowlyeddying round and round. The temptation was irresistible. I threw offmy clothes, leaped in, suffered myself to be borne once round with thecurrent, and then, seizing the strong root of a water plant, drew myselfto the shore. The effect was so invigorating and refreshing that Imistook it for returning health. "Pauline, " thought I, as I led thelittle mare up to be saddled, "only thrive as I do, and you and I willhave sport yet among the buffalo beyond these mountains. " But scarcelywere we mounted and on our way before the momentary glow passed. Again Ihung as usual in my seat, scarcely able to hold myself erect. 

"Look yonder, " said Raymond; "you see that big hollow there; the Indiansmust have gone that way, if they went anywhere about here. "

We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut into the mountainridge, and here we soon discerned an ant-hill furrowed with the mark ofa lodge-pole. This was quite enough; there could be no doubt now. As werode on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had been compelled tomarch in closer order, and the traces became numerous and distinct. Thegap terminated in a rocky gateway, leading into a rough passage upward, between two precipitous mountains. Here grass and weeds were bruised tofragments by the throng that had passed through. We moved slowly overthe rocks, up the passage; and in this toilsome manner we advanced foran hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet high, shooting up oneither hand. Raymond, with his hardy mule, was a few rods before me, when we came to the foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and whichI trusted might prove the highest point of the defile. Pauline strainedupward for a few yards, moaning and stumbling, and then came to a deadstop, unable to proceed further. I dismounted, and attempted to leadher; but my own exhausted strength soon gave out; so I loosened thetrail-rope from her neck, and tying it round my arm, crawled up on myhands and knees. I gained the top, totally exhausted, the sweat dropstrickling from my forehead. Pauline stood like a statue by my side, hershadow falling upon the scorching rock; and in this shade, for there wasno other, I lay for some time, scarcely able to move a limb. All aroundthe black crags, sharp as needles at the top, stood glowing in thesun, without a tree, or a bush, or a blade of grass, to cover theirprecipitous sides. The whole scene seemed parched with a pitiless, insufferable heat. 

After a while I could mount again, and we moved on, descending the rockydefile on its western side. Thinking of that morning's journey, ithas sometimes seemed to me that there was something ridiculous in myposition; a man, armed to the teeth, but wholly unable to fight, andequally so to run away, traversing a dangerous wilderness, on a sickhorse. But these thoughts were retrospective, for at the time I was intoo grave a mood to entertain a very lively sense of the ludicrous. 

Raymond's saddle-girth slipped; and while I proceeded he was stoppingbehind to repair the mischief. I came to the top of a little declivity, where a most welcome sight greeted my eye; a nook of fresh green grassnestled among the cliffs, sunny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggyold pine trees leaning forward from the rocks on the other. A shrill, familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of boyhood; that ofthe insect called the "locust" by New England schoolboys, which was fastclinging among the heated boughs of the old pine trees. Then, too, asI passed the bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear. Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through the boughs wefound a black rock, over-arched by the cool green canopy. An icy streamwas pouring from its side into a wide basin of white sand, from whenceit had no visible outlet, but filtered through into the soil below. While I filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plungingher head deep in the pool. Other visitors had been there before us. Allaround in the soft soil were the footprints of elk, deer, and the RockyMountain sheep; and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints ofhis broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. Among these mountainswas his home. 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy plain, encircledby the mountains, and marked, to our great joy, with all the traces ofan Indian camp. Raymond's practiced eye detected certain signs by whichhe recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched and hishorses picketed. I approached, and stood looking at the place. Reynaland I had, I believe, hardly a feeling in common. I disliked the fellow, and it perplexed me a good deal to understand why I should look with somuch interest on the ashes of his fire, when between him and me thereseemed no other bond of sympathy than the slender and precarious one ofa kindred race. 

In half an hour from this we were clear of the mountains. There was aplain before us, totally barren and thickly peopled in many parts withthe little prairie dogs, who sat at the mouths of their burrows andyelped at us as we passed. The plain, as we thought, was about six mileswide; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another mountain rangerose before us, grander and more wild than the last had been. Far out ofthe dense shrubbery that clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot upblack crags, all leaning one way, and shattered by storms and thunderinto grim and threatening shapes. As we entered a narrow passage on thetrail of the Indians, they impended frightfully on one side, above ourheads. 

Our course was through dense woods, in the shade and twinkling sunlightof overhanging boughs. I would I could recall to mind all the startlingcombinations that presented themselves, as winding from side to sideof the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could see, glancing atintervals through the foliage, the awful forms of the gigantic cliffs, that seemed at times to hem us in on the right and on the left, beforeus and behind! Another scene in a few moments greeted us; a tract ofgray and sunny woods, broken into knolls and hollows, enlivened by birdsand interspersed with flowers. Among the rest I recognized the mellowwhistle of the robin, an old familiar friend whom I had scarce expectedto meet in such a place. Humble-bees too were buzzing heavily aboutthe flowers; and of these a species of larkspur caught my eye, moreappropriate, it should seem, to cultivated gardens than to a remotewilderness. Instantly it recalled a multitude of dormant and delightfulrecollections. 

Leaving behind us this spot and its associations, a sight soon presenteditself, characteristic of that warlike region. In an open space, fencedin by high rocks, stood two Indian forts, of a square form, rudely builtof sticks and logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably beenconstructed the year before. Each might have contained about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some party had been beset by their enemies, and those scowling rocks and blasted trees might not long since havelooked down on a conflict unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any tracesof bloodshed remained they were completely hidden by the bushes and tallrank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage expanded into aplain, where again we found traces of an Indian encampment. There weretrees and bushes just before us, and we stopped here for an hour's restand refreshment. When we had finished our meal Raymond struck fire, andlighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of a tree to smoke. For sometime I observed him puffing away with a face of unusual solemnity. Thenslowly taking the pipe from his lips, he looked up and remarked that wehad better not go any farther. 

"Why not?" asked I. 

He said that the country was becoming very dangerous, that we wereentering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes and Grosventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wandering parties should meet us, it would costus our lives; but he added, with a blunt fidelity that nearly reconciledme to his stupidity, that he would go anywhere I wished. I told him tobring up the animals, and mounting them we proceeded again. I confessthat, as we moved forward, the prospect seemed but a dreary and doubtfulone. I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity of bodyand mind, and for a horse of such strength and spirit as the journeyrequired. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing taller andsteeper, and pressing more and more upon our path. We entered at lengtha defile which I never had seen rivaled. The mountain was cracked fromtop to bottom, and we were creeping along the bottom of the fissure, indampness and gloom, with the clink of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse murmuring of a petulant brook which kept us company. Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, overspread the wholenarrow passage; sometimes, withdrawing to one side, it gave us room topass dry-shod. Looking up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright bluesky between the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This did not lastlong. The passage soon widened, and sunbeams found their way down, flashing upon the black waters. The defile would spread out to many rodsin width; bushes, trees, and flowers would spring by the side of thebrook; the cliffs would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung in everycrevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along their sunny edges. Thenwe would be moving again in the darkness. The passage seemed about fourmiles long, and before we reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of ouranimals were lamentably broken, and their legs cut by the sharp stones. Issuing from the mountain we found another plain. All around it stood acircle of lofty precipices, that seemed the impersonation of silence andsolitude. Here again the Indians had encamped, as well they might, afterpassing with their women, children and horses through the gulf behindus. In one day we had made a journey which had cost them three toaccomplish. 

The only outlet to this amphitheater lay over a hill some two hundredfeet high, up which we moved with difficulty. Looking from the top, we saw that at last we were free of the mountains. The prairiespread before us, but so wild and broken that the view was everywhereobstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up against the sky, onthe smooth, pale green surface of which four slowly moving black speckswere discernible. They were evidently buffalo, and we hailed the sightas a good augury; for where the buffalo were, there too the Indianswould probably be found. We hoped on that very night to reach thevillage. We were anxious to do so for a double reason, wishing to bringour wearisome journey to an end, and knowing, moreover, that thoughto enter the village in broad daylight would be a perfectly safeexperiment, yet to encamp in its vicinity would be dangerous. But as werode on, the sun was sinking, and soon was within half an hour of thehorizon. We ascended a hill and looked round us for a spot for ourencampment. The prairie was like a turbulent ocean, suddenly congealedwhen its waves were at the highest, and it lay half in light and half inshadow, as the rich sunshine, yellow as gold, was pouring over it. Therough bushes of the wild sage were growing everywhere, its dull palegreen overspreading hill and hollow. Yet a little way before us, abright verdant line of grass was winding along the plain, and here andthere throughout its course water was glistening darkly. We went down toit, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to feed. It was a littletrickling brook, that for some yards on either bank turned the barrenprairie into fertility, and here and there it spread into deep pools, where the beaver had dammed it up. 

We placed our last remaining piece of the antelope before a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock of provisions. Just then anenormous gray hare, peculiar to these prairies, came jumping along, andseated himself within fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raisedmy rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not to fire forfear the report should reach the ears of the Indians. That night for thefirst time we considered that the danger to which we were exposed wasof a somewhat serious character; and to those who are unacquainted withIndians, it may seem strange that our chief apprehensions arose fromthe supposed proximity of the people whom we intended to visit. Had anystraggling party of these faithful friends caught sight of us from thehill-top, they would probably have returned in the night to plunder usof our horses and perhaps of our scalps. But we were on the prairie, where the GENIUS LOCI is at war with all nervous apprehensions; andI presume that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter thatevening. 

While he was looking after the animals, I sat by the fire engaged inthe novel task of baking bread. The utensils were of the most simpleand primitive kind, consisting of two sticks inclining over the bed ofcoals, one end thrust into the ground while the dough was twisted in aspiral form round the other. Under such circumstances all the epicureanin a man's nature is apt to awaken within him. I revisited in fancy thefar distant abodes of good fare, not indeed Frascati's, or the TroisFreres Provencaux, for that were too extreme a flight; but no other thanthe homely table of my old friend and host, Tom Crawford, of the WhiteMountains. By a singular revulsion, Tom himself, whom I well rememberto have looked upon as the impersonation of all that is wild andbackwoodsman-like, now appeared before me as the ministering angel ofcomfort and good living. Being fatigued and drowsy I began to doze, andmy thoughts, following the same train of association, assumed anotherform. Half-dreaming, I saw myself surrounded with the mountains ofNew England, alive with water-falls, their black crags tinctured withmilk-white mists. For this reverie I paid a speedy penalty; for thebread was black on one side and soft on the other. 

For eight hours Raymond and I, pillowed on our saddles, lay insensibleas logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched over me when I awoke. Igot up and examined her. Her feet indeed were bruised and swollen by theaccidents of yesterday, but her eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and her mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved on, hoping withinan hour to come in sight of the Indian village; but again disappointmentawaited us. The trail disappeared, melting away upon a hard and stonyplain. Raymond and I separating, rode from side to side, scrutinizingevery yard of ground, until at length I discerned traces of thelodge-poles passing by the side of a ridge of rocks. We began again tofollow them. 

"What is that black spot out there on the prairie?"

"It looks like a dead buffalo, " answered Raymond. 

We rode out to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of a bull killedby the Indians as they had passed. Tangled hair and scraps of hide werescattered all around, for the wolves had been making merry over it, and had hollowed out the entire carcass. It was covered with myriads oflarge black crickets, and from its appearance must certainly have lainthere for four or five days. The sight was a most disheartening one, and I observed to Raymond that the Indians might still be fifty or sixtymiles before us. But he shook his head, and replied that they dared notgo so far for fear of their enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a neighboringridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without apparent limit, and bounded infront by a long broken line of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and exposed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian wasvisible. 

"Do you see that?" said Raymond; "Now we had better turn round. "

But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we descended the hill andbegan to cross the plain. We had come so far that I knew perfectly wellneither Pauline's limbs nor my own could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that the lines of expediency and inclination talliedexactly, and that the most prudent course was to keep forward. Theground immediately around us was thickly strewn with the skulls andbones of buffalo, for here a year or two before the Indians had made a"surround"; yet no living game presented itself. At length, however, anantelope sprang up and gazed at us. We fired together, and by a singularfatality we both missed, although the animal stood, a fair mark, withineighty yards. This ill success might perhaps be charged to our owneagerness, for by this time we had no provision left except a littleflour. We could discern several small lakes, or rather extensive poolsof water, glistening in the distance. As we approached them, wolvesand antelopes bounded away through the tall grass that grew in theirvicinity, and flocks of large white plover flew screaming over theirsurface. Having failed of the antelope, Raymond tried his hand at thebirds with the same ill success. The water also disappointed us. Itsmuddy margin was so beaten up by the crowd of buffalo that our timorousanimals were afraid to approach. So we turned away and moved toward thehills. The rank grass, where it was not trampled down by the buffalo, fairly swept our horses' necks. 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie offering no clew bywhich to guide our way. As we drew near the hills an opening appeared, through which the Indians must have gone if they had passed that way atall. Slowly we began to ascend it. I felt the most dreary forebodingsof ill success, when on looking round I could discover neither dent ofhoof, nor footprint, nor trace of lodge-pole, though the passage wasencumbered by the ghastly skulls of buffalo. We heard thunder muttering;a storm was coming on. 

As we gained the top of the gap, the prospect beyond began to discloseitself. First, we saw a long dark line of ragged clouds upon thehorizon, while above them rose the peak of the Medicine-Bow, thevanguard of the Rocky Mountains; then little by little the plain cameinto view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, thoughLaramie Creek glistened in a waving line over its surface, without abush or a tree upon its banks. As yet, the round projecting shoulder ofa hill intercepted a part of the view. I rode in advance, when suddenlyI could distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, along the bank ofthe stream. 

"Buffalo!" said I. Then a sudden hope flashed upon me, and eagerly andanxiously I looked again. 

"Horses!" exclaimed Raymond, with a tremendous oath, lashing his muleforward as he spoke. More and more of the plain disclosed itself, andin rapid succession more and more horses appeared, scattered alongthe river bank, or feeding in bands over the prairie. Then, suddenly, standing in a circle by the stream, swarming with their savageinhabitants, we saw rising before us the tall lodges of the Ogallalla. Never did the heart of wanderer more gladden at the sight of home thandid mine at the sight of those wild habitations!

CHAPTER XIV

THE OGALLALLA VILLAGE

Such a narrative as this is hardly the place for portraying the mentalfeatures of the Indians. The same picture, slightly changed in shade andcoloring, would serve with very few exceptions for all the tribes thatlie north of the Mexican territories. But with this striking similarityin their modes of thought, the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, ofthe forests and of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of life. Having been domesticated for several weeks among one of the wildest ofthe wild hordes that roam over the remote prairies, I had extraordinaryopportunities of observing them, and I flatter myself that a faithfulpicture of the scenes that passed daily before my eyes may not be devoidof interest and value. These men were thorough savages. Neither theirmanners nor their ideas were in the slightest degree modified by contactwith civilization. They knew nothing of the power and real character ofthe white men, and their children would scream in terror at the sight ofme. Their religion, their superstitions, and their prejudices were thesame that had been handed down to them from immemorial time. They foughtwith the same weapons that their fathers fought with and wore the samerude garments of skins. 

Great changes are at hand in that region. With the stream of emigrationto Oregon and California, the buffalo will dwindle away, and the largewandering communities who depend on them for support must be brokenand scattered. The Indians will soon be corrupted by the example of thewhites, abased by whisky, and overawed by military posts; so that withina few years the traveler may pass in tolerable security through theircountry. Its danger and its charm will have disappeared together. 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from the gap in thehills, we were seen in our turn; keen eyes were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upon the plain the side of the village nearest us wasdarkened with a crowd of naked figures gathering around the lodges. Several men came forward to meet us. I could distinguish among them thegreen blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came up the ceremony ofshaking hands had to be gone through with in due form, and then all wereeager to know what had become of the rest of my party. I satisfied themon this point, and we all moved forward together toward the village. 

"You've missed it, " said Reynal; "if you'd been here day beforeyesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie over yonder black withbuffalo as far as you could see. There were no cows, though; nothing butbulls. We made a 'surround' every day till yesterday. See the villagethere; don't that look like good living?"

In fact I could see, even at that distance, that long cords werestretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, cut by the squawsinto thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the sun. I noticed too that thevillage was somewhat smaller than when I had last seen it, and I askedReynal the cause. He said that the old Le Borgne had felt too weakto pass over the mountains, and so had remained behind with all hisrelations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his brothers. The Whirlwindtoo had been unwilling to come so far, because, as Reynal said, he wasafraid. Only half a dozen lodges had adhered to him, the main body ofthe village setting their chief's authority at naught, and taking thecourse most agreeable to their inclinations. 

"What chiefs are there in the village now?" said I. 

"Well, " said Reynal, "there's old Red-Water, and the Eagle-Feather, andthe Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf and the Panther, and the White Shield, and--what's his name?--the half-breed Cheyenne. "

By this time we were close to the village, and I observed that while thegreater part of the lodges were very large and neat in their appearance, there was at one side a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. I lookedtoward them, and made some remark about their wretched appearance. But Iwas touching upon delicate ground. 

"My squaw's relations live in those lodges, " said Reynal very warmly, "and there isn't a better set in the whole village. "

"Are there any chiefs among them?" asked I. 

"Chiefs?" said Reynal; "yes, plenty!"

"What are their names?" I inquired. 

"Their names? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. If he isn't a chief he oughtto be one. And there's the Hail-Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to besure; but he's bound to be a chief one of these days!"

Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and entered the greatarea of the village. Superb naked figures stood silently gazing on us. 

"Where's the Bad Wound's lodge?" said I to Reynal. 

"There, you've missed it again! The Bad Wound is away with TheWhirlwind. If you could have found him here, and gone to live in hislodge, he would have treated you better than any man in the village. But there's the Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red-Water's. He's agood Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and live with him. "

"Are there many squaws and children in his lodge?" said I. 

"No; only one squaw and two or three children. He keeps the rest in aseparate lodge by themselves. "

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and I rode up to theentrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A squaw came out immediately and tookour horses. I put aside the leather nap that covered the low opening, and stooping, entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could see thechief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile of buffalo robes. He greeted me with a guttural "How, cola!" I requested Reynal to tellhim that Raymond and I were come to live with him. The Big Crow gaveanother low exclamation. If the reader thinks that we were intrudingsomewhat cavalierly, I beg him to observe that every Indian in thevillage would have deemed himself honored that white men should givesuch preference to his hospitality. 

The squaw spread a buffalo robe for us in the guest's place at the headof the lodge. Our saddles were brought in, and scarcely were we seatedupon them before the place was thronged with Indians, who came crowdingin to see us. The Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with themixture of tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow bark. Round and roundit passed, and a lively conversation went forward. Meanwhile a squawplaced before the two guests a wooden bowl of boiled buffalo meat, butunhappily this was not the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. Rapidly, one after another, boys and young squaws thrust their heads inat the opening, to invite us to various feasts in different parts of thevillage. For half an hour or more we were actively engaged in passingfrom lodge to lodge, tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before us, and inhaling a whiff or two from our entertainer's pipe. A thunderstormthat had been threatening for some time now began in good earnest. Wecrossed over to Reynal's lodge, though it hardly deserved this name, forit consisted only of a few old buffalo robes, supported on poles, andwas quite open on one side. Here we sat down, and the Indians gatheredround us. 

"What is it, " said I, "that makes the thunder?"

"It's my belief, " said Reynal, "that it is a big stone rolling over thesky. "

"Very likely, " I replied; "but I want to know what the Indians thinkabout it. "

So he interpreted my question, which seemed to produce some doubtand debate. There was evidently a difference of opinion. At last oldMene-Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himself at one side, looked up withhis withered face, and said he had always known what the thunder was. It was a great black bird; and once he had seen it, in a dream, swoopingdown from the Black Hills, with its loud roaring wings; and when itflapped them over a lake, they struck lightning from the water. 

"The thunder is bad, " said another old man, who sat muffled in hisbuffalo robe; "he killed my brother last summer. "

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation; but the old manremained doggedly silent, and would not look up. Some time after Ilearned how the accident occurred. The man who was killed belonged to anassociation which, among other mystic functions, claimed the exclusivepower and privilege of fighting the thunder. Whenever a storm which theywished to avert was threatening, the thunder-fighters would take theirbows and arrows, their guns, their magic drum, and a sort of whistle, made out of the wingbone of the war eagle. Thus equipped, they wouldrun out and fire at the rising cloud, whooping, yelling, whistling, andbeating their drum, to frighten it down again. One afternoon a heavyblack cloud was coming up, and they repaired to the top of a hill, wherethey brought all their magic artillery into play against it. But theundaunted thunder, refusing to be terrified, kept moving straightonward, and darted out a bright flash which struck one of the partydead, as he was in the very act of shaking his long iron-pointedlance against it. The rest scattered and ran yelling in an ecstasy ofsuperstitious terror back to their lodges. 

The lodge of my host Kongra-Tonga, or the Big Crow, presented apicturesque spectacle that evening. A score or more of Indians wereseated around in a circle, their dark naked forms just visible bythe dull light of the smoldering fire in the center, the pipe glowingbrightly in the gloom as it passed from hand to hand round the lodge. Then a squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull embers. Instantly a bright glancing flame would leap up, darting its clear lightto the very apex of the tall conical structure, where the tops of theslender poles that supported its covering of leather were gatheredtogether. It gilded the features of the Indians, as with animatedgestures they sat around it, telling their endless stories of war andhunting. It displayed rude garments of skins that hung around the lodge;the bow, quiver, and lance suspended over the resting-place of thechief, and the rifles and powder-horns of the two white guests. For amoment all would be bright as day; then the flames would die away, andfitful flashes from the embers would illumine the lodge, and then leaveit in darkness. Then all the light would wholly fade, and the lodge andall within it be involved again in obscurity. 

As I left the lodge next morning, I was saluted by howling and yellingfrom all around the village, and half its canine population rushedforth to the attack. Being as cowardly as they were clamorous, they keptjumping around me at the distance of a few yards, only one little cur, about ten inches long, having spirit enough to make a direct assault. Hedashed valiantly at the leather tassel which in the Dakota fashion wastrailing behind the heel of my moccasin, and kept his hold, growling andsnarling all the while, though every step I made almost jerked him overon his back. As I knew that the eyes of the whole village were on thewatch to see if I showed any sign of apprehension, I walked forwardwithout looking to the right or left, surrounded wherever I went by thismagic circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's lodge I sat down by it, onwhich the dogs dispersed growling to their respective quarters. Only onelarge white one remained, who kept running about before me and showinghis teeth. I called him, but he only growled the more. I looked at himwell. He was fat and sleek; just such a dog as I wanted. "My friend, "thought I, "you shall pay for this! I will have you eaten this verymorning!"

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way of conveying afavorable impression of my character and dignity; and a white dog isthe dish which the customs of the Dakota prescribe for all occasions offormality and importance. I consulted Reynal; he soon discovered that anold woman in the next lodge was owner of the white dog. I took agaudy cotton handkerchief, and laying it on the ground, arranged somevermilion, beads, and other trinkets upon it. Then the old squaw wassummoned. I pointed to the dog and to the handkerchief. She gave ascream of delight, snatched up the prize, and vanished with it intoher lodge. For a few more trifles I engaged the services of two othersquaws, each of whom took the white dog by one of his paws, and led himaway behind the lodges, while he kept looking up at them with a faceof innocent surprise. Having killed him they threw him into a fire tosinge; then chopped him up and put him into two large kettles to boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond to fry in buffalo-fat what little flour wehad left, and also to make a kettle of tea as an additional item of therepast. 

The Big Crow's squaw was set briskly at work sweeping out the lodge forthe approaching festivity. I confided to my host himself the task ofinviting the guests, thinking that I might thereby shift from my ownshoulders the odium of fancied neglect and oversight. 

When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serves an Indian aswell as another. My entertainment came off about eleven o'clock. At thathour, Reynal and Raymond walked across the area of the village, to theadmiration of the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog-meatslung on a pole between them. These they placed in the center of thelodge, and then went back for the bread and the tea. Meanwhile I had puton a pair of brilliant moccasins, and substituted for my old buckskinfrock a coat which I had brought with me in view of such publicoccasions. I also made careful use of the razor, an operation which noman will neglect who desires to gain the good opinion of Indians. Thusattired, I seated myself between Reynal and Raymond at the head of thelodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before all the guests had come in andwere seated on the ground, wedged together in a close circle aroundthe lodge. Each brought with him a wooden bowl to hold his share of therepast. When all were assembled, two of the officials called "soldiers"by the white men, came forward with ladles made of the horn of the RockyMountain sheep, and began to distribute the feast, always assigninga double share to the old men and chiefs. The dog vanished withastonishing celerity, and each guest turned his dish bottom upward toshow that all was gone. Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and finally the tea. As the soldiers poured it out into the same woodenbowls that had served for the substantial part of the meal, I thought ithad a particularly curious and uninviting color. 

"Oh!" said Reynal, "there was not tea enough, so I stirred some soot inthe kettle, to make it look strong. "

Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminating. The tea waswell sweetened, and that was all they cared for. 

Now the former part of the entertainment being concluded, the time forspeech-making was come. The Big Crow produced a flat piece of woodon which he cut up tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in dueproportions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to hand aroundthe company. Then I began my speech, each sentence being interpretedby Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the whole audience with the usualexclamations of assent and approval. As nearly as I can recollect, itwas as follows:

I had come, I told them, from a country so far distant, that at the ratethey travel, they could not reach it in a year. 

"Howo how!"

"There the Meneaska were more numerous than the blades of grass on theprairie. The squaws were far more beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men were brave warriors. "

"How! how! how!"

Here I was assailed by sharp twinges of conscience, for I fancied Icould perceive a fragrance of perfumery in the air, and a vision rosebefore me of white kid gloves and silken mustaches with the mild andgentle countenances of numerous fair-haired young men. But I recoveredmyself and began again. 

"While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had heard of theOgallalla, how great and brave a nation they were, how they lovedthe whites, and how well they could hunt the buffalo and strike theirenemies. I resolved to come and see if all that I heard was true. "

"How! how! how! how!"

"As I had come on horseback through the mountains, I had been able tobring them only a very few presents. "

"How!"

"But I had enough tobacco to give them all a small piece. They mightsmoke it, and see how much better it was than the tobacco which they gotfrom the traders. "

"How! how! how!"

"I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and if any of them should come to thefort before I went away, I would make them handsome presents. "

"How! howo how! how!"

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two or three pounds oftobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to make a reply. It was quite long, but the following was the pith of it:

"He had always loved the whites. They were the wisest people on earth. He believed they could do everything, and he was always glad when anyof them came to live in the Ogallalla lodges. It was true I had not madethem many presents, but the reason of it was plain. It was clear that Iliked them, or I never should have come so far to find their village. "

Several other speeches of similar import followed, and then this moreserious matter being disposed of, there was an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation; but old Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted itwith a loud voice:

"Now is a good time, " he said, "when all the old men and chiefs are heretogether, to decide what the people shall do. We came over the mountainto make our lodges for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing;they are rotten and worn out. But we have been disappointed. We havekilled buffalo bulls enough, but we have found no herds of cows, and theskins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our squaws to make lodges of. There must be plenty of cows about the Medicine-Bow Mountain. We oughtto go there. To be sure it is farther westward than we have ever beenbefore, and perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those hunting-groundsbelong to them. But we must have new lodges at any rate; our old oneswill not serve for another year. We ought not to be afraid of theSnakes. Our warriors are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, we have three white men with their rifles to help us. "

I could not help thinking that the old man relied a little too much onthe aid of allies, one of whom was a coward, another a blockhead, andthe third an invalid. This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Reynal did not interpret what was said, I could only judge of themeaning by the features and gestures of the speakers. At the end of it, however, the greater number seemed to have fallen in with Mene-Seela'sopinion. A short silence followed, and then the old man struck upa discordant chant, which I was told was a song of thanks for theentertainment I had given them. 

"Now, " said he, "let us go and give the white men a chance to breathe. "

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and for some time theold chief was walking round the village, singing his song in praise ofthe feast, after the usual custom of the nation. 

At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went down the horsescame trooping from the surrounding plains to be picketed before thedwellings of their respective masters. Soon within the great circle oflodges appeared another concentric circle of restless horses; and hereand there fires were glowing and flickering amid the gloom of the duskyfigures around them. I went over and sat by the lodge of Reynal. TheEagle-Feather, who was a son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host theBig Crow, was seated there already, and I asked him if the village wouldmove in the morning. He shook his head, and said that nobody could tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka had died, the people had been like childrenthat did not know their own minds. They were no better than a bodywithout a head. So I, as well as the Indians themselves, fell asleepthat night without knowing whether we should set out in the morningtoward the country of the Snakes. 

At daybreak, however, as I was coming up from the river after mymorning's ablutions, I saw that a movement was contemplated. Some of thelodges were reduced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles; the leathercovering of others was flapping in the wind as the squaws were pullingit off. One or two chiefs of note had resolved, it seemed, on moving;and so having set their squaws at work, the example was tacitly followedby the rest of the village. One by one the lodges were sinking down inrapid succession, and where the great circle of the village had beenonly a moment before, nothing now remained but a ring of horses andIndians, crowded in confusion together. The ruins of the lodges werespread over the ground, together with kettles, stone mallets, greatladles of horn, buffalo robes, and cases of painted hide, filled withdried meat. Squaws bustled about in their busy preparations, the oldhags screaming to one another at the stretch of their leathern lungs. The shaggy horses were patiently standing while the lodge-poles werelashed to their sides, and the baggage piled upon their backs. The dogs, with their tongues lolling out, lay lazily panting, and waiting for thetime of departure. Each warrior sat on the ground by the decaying embersof his fire, unmoved amid all the confusion, while he held in his handthe long trail-rope of his horse. 

As their preparations were completed, each family moved off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting away. I could see them crossing the river, and passing in quick succession along the profile of the hill on thefarther bank. When all were gone, I mounted and set out after them, followed by Raymond, and as we gained the summit, the whole villagecame in view at once, straggling away for a mile or more over the barrenplains before us. Everywhere the iron points of lances were glittering. The sun never shone upon a more strange array. Here were the heavy-ladenpack horses, some wretched old women leading them, and two or threechildren clinging to their backs. Here were mules or ponies covered fromhead to tail with gaudy trappings, and mounted by some gay young squaw, grinning bashfulness and pleasure as the Meneaska looked at her. Boyswith miniature bows and arrows were wandering over the plains, littlenaked children were running along on foot, and numberless dogs werescampering among the feet of the horses. The young braves, gaudy withpaint and feathers, were riding in groups among the crowd, and oftengalloping, two or three at once along the line, to try the speed oftheir horses. Here and there you might see a rank of sturdy pedestriansstalking along in their white buffalo robes. These were the dignitariesof the village, the old men and warriors, to whose age and experiencethat wandering democracy yielded a silent deference. With the roughprairie and the broken hills for its background, the restless scenewas striking and picturesque beyond description. Days and weeks made mefamiliar with it, but never impaired its effect upon my fancy. 

As we moved on the broken column grew yet more scattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot of a hill, I saw the old men beforementioned seating themselves in a line upon the ground, in advance ofthe whole. They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, and tellingstories, while the people, stopping as they successively came up, weresoon gathered in a crowd behind them. Then the old men rose, drew theirbuffalo robes over their shoulders, and strode on as before. Gaining thetop of the hill, we found a very steep declivity before us. There wasnot a minute's pause. The whole descended in a mass, amid dust andconfusion. The horses braced their feet as they slid down, women andchildren were screaming, dogs yelping as they were trodden upon, whilestones and earth went rolling to the bottom. In a few moments I couldsee the village from the summit, spreading again far and wide over theplain below. 

At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked anew by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength that I had been gaining for a week past hadvanished again, and I became like a man in a dream. But at sunset I laydown in the Big Crow's lodge and slept, totally unconscious till themorning. The first thing that awakened me was a hoarse flapping over myhead, and a sudden light that poured in upon me. The camp was breakingup, and the squaws were moving the covering from the lodge. I arose andshook off my blanket with the feeling of perfect health; but scarcelyhad I gained my feet when a sense of my helpless condition was once moreforced upon me, and I found myself scarcely able to stand. Raymond hadbrought up Pauline and the mule, and I stooped to raise my saddle fromthe ground. My strength was quite inadequate to the task. "You mustsaddle her, " said I to Raymond, as I sat down again on a pile of buffalorobes:

"Et hoec etiam fortasse meminisse juvabit. "

I thought, while with a painful effort I raised myself into the saddle. Half an hour after, even the expectation that Virgil's line expressedseemed destined to disappointment. As we were passing over a greatplain, surrounded by long broken ridges, I rode slowly in advance ofthe Indians, with thoughts that wandered far from the time and from theplace. Suddenly the sky darkened, and thunder began to mutter. Cloudswere rising over the hills, as dreary and dull as the first forebodingsof an approaching calamity; and in a moment all around was wrapped inshadow. I looked behind. The Indians had stopped to prepare for theapproaching storm, and the dark, dense mass of savages stretched far tothe right and left. Since the first attack of my disorder the effectsof rain upon me had usually been injurious in the extreme. I had nostrength to spare, having at that moment scarcely enough to keep my seaton horseback. Then, for the first time, it pressed upon me as a strongprobability that I might never leave those deserts. "Well, " thought Ito myself, "a prairie makes quick and sharp work. Better to die here, inthe saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a sick chamber, and a thousand times better than to drag out life, as many have done, in the helpless inaction of lingering disease. " So, drawing the buffalorobe on which I sat over my head, I waited till the storm should come. It broke at last with a sudden burst of fury, and passing away asrapidly as it came, left the sky clear again. My reflections servedme no other purpose than to look back upon as a piece of curiousexperience; for the rain did not produce the ill effects that I hadexpected. We encamped within an hour. Having no change of clothes, Icontrived to borrow a curious kind of substitute from Reynal: and thisdone, I went home, that is, to the Big Crow's lodge to make the entiretransfer that was necessary. Half a dozen squaws were in the lodge, andone of them taking my arm held it against her own, while a general laughand scream of admiration were raised at the contrast in the color of theskin. 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far distant from a spur of theBlack Hills, whose ridges, bristling with fir trees, rose from theplains a mile or two on our right. That they might move more rapidlytoward their proposed hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leaveat this place their stock of dried meat and other superfluous articles. Some left even their lodges, and contented themselves with carrying afew hides to make a shelter from the sun and rain. Half the inhabitantsset out in the afternoon, with loaded pack horses, toward the mountains. Here they suspended the dried meat upon trees, where the wolves andgrizzly bears could not get at it. All returned at evening. Some of theyoung men declared that they had heard the reports of guns among themountains to the eastward, and many surmises were thrown out as to theorigin of these sounds. For my part, I was in hopes that Shaw and HenryChatillon were coming to join us. I would have welcomed them cordially, for I had no other companions than two brutish white men and fivehundred savages. I little suspected that at that very moment my unluckycomrade was lying on a buffalo robe at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivypoison, and solacing his woes with tobacco and Shakespeare. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning, several young men wereriding about the country as scouts; and at length we began to see themoccasionally on the tops of the hills, shaking their robes as a signalthat they saw buffalo. Soon after, some bulls came in sight. Horsemendarted away in pursuit, and we could see from the distance that oneor two of the buffalo were killed. Raymond suddenly became inspired. I looked at him as he rode by my side; his face had actually grownintelligent!

"This is the country for me!" he said; "if I could only carry thebuffalo that are killed here every month down to St. Louis I'd makemy fortune in one winter. I'd grow as rich as old Papin, or Mackenzieeither. I call this the poor man's market. When I'm hungry I have onlygot to take my rifle and go out and get better meat than the rich folksdown below can get with all their money. You won't catch me living inSt. Louis another winter. "

"No, " said Reynal, "you had better say that after you and your Spanishwoman almost starved to death there. What a fool you were ever to takeher to the settlements. "

"Your Spanish woman?" said I; "I never heard of her before. Are youmarried to her?"

"No, " answered Raymond, again looking intelligent; "the priests don'tmarry their women, and why should I marry mine?"

This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy introduced the subject ofreligion, and I found that my two associates, in common with other whitemen in the country, were as indifferent to their future welfare as menwhose lives are in constant peril are apt to be. Raymond had neverheard of the Pope. A certain bishop, who lived at Taos or at SantaFe, embodied his loftiest idea of an ecclesiastical dignitary. Reynalobserved that a priest had been at Fort Laramie two years ago, on hisway to the Nez Perce mission, and that he had confessed all the menthere and given them absolution. "I got a good clearing out myself thattime, " said Reynal, "and I reckon that will do for me till I go down tothe settlements again. "

Here he interrupted himself with an oath and exclaimed: "Look! look! ThePanther is running an antelope!"

The Panther, on his black and white horse, one of the best in thevillage, came at full speed over the hill in hot pursuit of an antelopethat darted away like lightning before him. The attempt was made in meresport and bravado, for very few are the horses that can for a momentcompete in swiftness with this little animal. The antelope ran down thehill toward the main body of the Indians who were moving over the plainbelow. Sharp yells were given and horsemen galloped out to intercept hisflight. At this he turned sharply to the left and scoured away with suchincredible speed that he distanced all his pursuers and even the vauntedhorse of the Panther himself. A few moments after we witnessed a moreserious sport. A shaggy buffalo bull bounded out from a neighboringhollow, and close behind him came a slender Indian boy, riding withoutstirrups or saddle and lashing his eager little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew closer to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with his short tail erect and his tongue lolling out a foot from hisfoaming jaws, was straining his unwieldy strength to the utmost. Amoment more and the boy was close alongside of him. It was our friendthe Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on his horse's neck and jerked anarrow like lightning from the quiver at his shoulder. 

"I tell you, " said Reynal, "that in a year's time that boy will matchthe best hunter in the village. There he has given it to him! and theregoes another! You feel well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrowsstuck in your lights? There, he has given him another! Hear how theHail-Storm yells when he shoots! Yes, jump at him; try it again, oldfellow! You may jump all day before you get your horns into that pony!"

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but the horse keptdodging with wonderful celerity. At length the bull followed up hisattack with a furious rush, and the Hail-Storm was put to flight, theshaggy monster following close behind. The boy clung in his seat like aleech, and secure in the speed of his little pony, looked round towardus and laughed. In a moment he was again alongside of the bull, whowas now driven to complete desperation. His eyeballs glared throughhis tangled mane, and the blood flew from his mouth and nostrils. Thus, still battling with each other, the two enemies disappeared over thehill. 

Many of the Indians rode at full gallop toward the spot. We followed ata more moderate pace, and soon saw the bull lying dead on the side ofthe hill. The Indians were gathered around him, and several knives werealready at work. These little instruments were plied with such wonderfuladdress that the twisted sinews were cut apart, the ponderous bones fellasunder as if by magic, and in a moment the vast carcass was reduced toa heap of bloody ruins. The surrounding group of savages offered no veryattractive spectacle to a civilized eye. Some were cracking the hugethigh-bones and devouring the marrow within; others were cutting awaypieces of the liver and other approved morsels, and swallowing themon the spot with the appetite of wolves. The faces of most of them, besmeared with blood from ear to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. My friend the White Shield proffered me a marrowbone, so skillfully laidopen that all the rich substance within was exposed to view at once. Another Indian held out a large piece of the delicate lining of thepaunch; but these courteous offerings I begged leave to decline. Inoticed one little boy who was very busy with his knife about thejaws and throat of the buffalo, from which he extracted some morsel ofpeculiar delicacy. It is but fair to say that only certain parts of theanimal are considered eligible in these extempore banquets. The Indianswould look with abhorrence on anyone who should partake indiscriminatelyof the newly killed carcass. 

We encamped that night, and marched westward through the greater part ofthe following day. On the next morning we again resumed our journey. Itwas the 17th of July, unless my notebook misleads me. At noon we stoppedby some pools of rain-water, and in the afternoon again set forward. This double movement was contrary to the usual practice of the Indians, but all were very anxious to reach the hunting ground, kill thenecessary number of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible from thedangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the present some curious incidentsthat occurred during these marches and encampments. Late in theafternoon of the last-mentioned day we came upon the banks of a littlesandy stream, of which the Indians could not tell the name; for theywere very ill acquainted with that part of the country. So parched andarid were the prairies around that they could not supply grass enoughfor the horses to feed upon, and we were compelled to move farther andfarther up the stream in search of ground for encampment. The countrywas much wilder than before. The plains were gashed with ravines andbroken into hollows and steep declivities, which flanked our course, as, in long-scattered array, the Indians advanced up the side of the stream. Mene-Seela consulted an extraordinary oracle to instruct him where thebuffalo were to be found. When he with the other chiefs sat down on thegrass to smoke and converse, as they often did during the march, the oldman picked up one of those enormous black-and-green crickets, which theDakota call by a name that signifies "They who point out the buffalo. "The Root-Diggers, a wretched tribe beyond the mountains, turn them togood account by making them into a sort of soup, pronounced by certainunscrupulous trappers to be extremely rich. Holding the bloated insectrespectfully between his fingers and thumb, the old Indian lookedattentively at him and inquired, "Tell me, my father, where must we goto-morrow to find the buffalo?" The cricket twisted about his long hornsin evident embarrassment. At last he pointed, or seemed to point, themwestward. Mene-Seela, dropping him gently on the grass, laughed withgreat glee, and said that if we went that way in the morning we shouldbe sure to kill plenty of game. 

Toward evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, traversed by thestream, and deep-set among tall sterile bluffs. The Indians descendedits steep bank; and as I was at the rear, I was one of the last to reachthis point. Lances were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the waterbelow me was crowded with men and horses passing through, while themeadow beyond was swarming with the restless crowd of Indians. The sunwas just setting, and poured its softened light upon them through anopening in the hills. 

I remarked to Reynal that at last we had found a good camping-ground. 

"Oh, it is very good, " replied he ironically; "especially if there is aSnake war party about, and they take it into their heads to shoot downat us from the top of these hills. It is no plan of mine, camping insuch a hole as this!"

The Indians also seemed apprehensive. High up on the top of the tallestbluff, conspicuous in the bright evening sunlight, sat a naked warrioron horseback, looking around, as it seemed, over the neighboringcountry; and Raymond told me that many of the young men had gone out indifferent directions as scouts. 

The shadows had reached to the very summit of the bluffs before thelodges were erected and the village reduced again to quiet and order. Acry was suddenly raised, and men, women, and children came running outwith animated faces, and looked eagerly through the opening on the hillsby which the stream entered from the westward. I could discern afaroff some dark, heavy masses, passing over the sides of a low hill. Theydisappeared, and then others followed. These were bands of buffalo cows. The hunting-ground was reached at last, and everything promised well forthe morrow's sport. Being fatigued and exhausted, I went and lay down inKongra-Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, and calledupon me to come and see some sport. A number of Indians were gathered, laughing, along the line of lodges on the western side of the village, and at some distance, I could plainly see in the twilight two huge blackmonsters stalking, heavily and solemnly, directly toward us. They werebuffalo bulls. The wind blew from them to the village, and such wastheir blindness and stupidity that they were advancing upon the enemywithout the least consciousness of his presence. Raymond told me thattwo men had hidden themselves with guns in a ravine about twenty yardsin front of us. The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swinging fromside to side in their peculiar gait of stupid dignity. They approachedwithin four or five rods of the ravine where the Indians lay in ambush. Here at last they seemed conscious that something was wrong, for theyboth stopped and stood perfectly still, without looking either to theright or to the left. Nothing of them was to be seen but two huge blackmasses of shaggy mane, with horns, eyes, and nose in the center, anda pair of hoofs visible at the bottom. At last the more intelligent ofthem seemed to have concluded that it was time to retire. Very slowly, and with an air of the gravest and most majestic deliberation, he beganto turn round, as if he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little hisugly brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke sprang out, as itwere from the ground; a sharp report came with it. The old bull gavea very undignified jump and galloped off. At this his comrade wheeledabout with considerable expedition. The other Indian shot at him fromthe ravine, and then both the bulls were running away at full speed, while half the juvenile population of the village raised a yell and ranafter them. The first bull was soon stopped, and while the crowd stoodlooking at him at a respectable distance, he reeled and rolled over onhis side. The other, wounded in a less vital part, galloped away to thehills and escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to sleep, and ill as Iwas, there was something very animating in the prospect of the generalhunt that was to take place on the morrow. 

CHAPTER XV

THE HUNTING CAMP

Long before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. The women ofMene-Seela's lodge were as usual among the first that were ready fordeparture, and I found the old man himself sitting by the embers of thedecayed fire, over which he was warming his withered fingers, as themorning was very chilly and damp. The preparations for moving wereeven more confused and disorderly than usual. While some families wereleaving the ground the lodges of others were still standing untouched. At this old Mene-Seela grew impatient, and walking out to the middle ofthe village stood with his robe wrapped close around him, and haranguedthe people in a loud, sharp voice. Now, he said, when they were on anenemy's hunting-grounds, was not the time to behave like children;they ought to be more active and united than ever. His speech had someeffect. The delinquents took down their lodges and loaded their packhorses; and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, and childrenhad left the deserted camp. 

This movement was made merely for the purpose of finding a better andsafer position. So we advanced only three or four miles up the littlestream, before each family assumed its relative place in the greatring of the village, and all around the squaws were actively at work inpreparing the camp. But not a single warrior dismounted from his horse. All the men that morning were mounted on inferior animals, leading theirbest horses by a cord, or confiding them to the care of boys. In smallparties they began to leave the ground and ride rapidly away over theplains to the westward. I had taken no food that morning, and not beingat all ambitious of further abstinence, I went into my host's lodge, which his squaws had erected with wonderful celerity, and sat down inthe center, as a gentle hint that I was hungry. A wooden bowl was soonset before me, filled with the nutritious preparation of dried meatcalled pemmican by the northern voyagers and wasna by the Dakota. Takinga handful to break my fast upon, I left the lodge just in time to seethe last band of hunters disappear over the ridge of the neighboringhill. I mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, riding rather by thebalance than by any muscular strength that remained to me. From thetop of the hill I could overlook a wide extent of desolate and unbrokenprairie, over which, far and near, little parties of naked horsemen wererapidly passing. I soon came up to the nearest, and we had not riddena mile before all were united into one large and compact body. Allwas haste and eagerness. Each hunter was whipping on his horse, as ifanxious to be the first to reach the game. In such movements among theIndians this is always more or less the case; but it was especiallyso in the present instance, because the head chief of the village wasabsent, and there were but few "soldiers, " a sort of Indian police, whoamong their other functions usually assumed the direction of a buffalohunt. No man turned to the right hand or to the left. We rode at a swiftcanter straight forward, uphill and downhill, and through the stiff, obstinate growth of the endless wild-sage bushes. For an hour and a halfthe same red shoulders, the same long black hair rose and fell withthe motion of the horses before me. Very little was said, though once Iobserved an old man severely reproving Raymond for having left his riflebehind him, when there was some probability of encountering an enemybefore the day was over. As we galloped across a plain thickly set withsagebushes, the foremost riders vanished suddenly from sight, as ifdiving into the earth. The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down we all went in succession and galloped in a line along the bottom, until we found a point where, one by one, the horses could scramble out. Soon after we came upon a wide shallow stream, and as we rode swiftlyover the hard sand-beds and through the thin sheets of rippling water, many of the savage horsemen threw themselves to the ground, knelt on thesand, snatched a hasty draught, and leaping back again to their seats, galloped on again as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party; and now we began to seethem on the ridge of the hills, waving their robes in token thatbuffalo were visible. These however proved to be nothing more than oldstraggling bulls, feeding upon the neighboring plains, who would starefor a moment at the hostile array and then gallop clumsily off. Atlength we could discern several of these scouts making their signalsto us at once; no longer waving their robes boldly from the top of thehill, but standing lower down, so that they could not be seen from theplains beyond. Game worth pursuing had evidently been discovered. Theexcited Indians now urged forward their tired horses even more rapidlythan before. Pauline, who was still sick and jaded, began to groanheavily; and her yellow sides were darkened with sweat. As we werecrowding together over a lower intervening hill, I heard Reynal andRaymond shouting to me from the left; and looking in that direction, I saw them riding away behind a party of about twenty mean-lookingIndians. These were the relatives of Reynal's squaw Margot, who, notwishing to take part in the general hunt, were riding toward a distanthollow, where they could discern a small band of buffalo which theymeant to appropriate to themselves. I answered to the call by orderingRaymond to turn back and follow me. He reluctantly obeyed, thoughReynal, who had relied on his assistance in skinning, cutting up, andcarrying to camp the buffalo that he and his party should kill, loudlyprotested and declared that we should see no sport if we went with therest of the Indians. Followed by Raymond I pursued the main body ofhunters, while Reynal in a great rage whipped his horse over the hillafter his ragamuffin relatives. The Indians, still about a hundred innumber, rode in a dense body at some distance in advance. They gallopedforward, and a cloud of dust was flying in the wind behind them. I couldnot overtake them until they had stopped on the side of the hill wherethe scouts were standing. Here, each hunter sprang in haste from thetired animal which he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh horse thathe had brought with him. There was not a saddle or a bridle in the wholeparty. A piece of buffalo robe girthed over the horse's back served inthe place of the one, and a cord of twisted hair lashed firmly roundhis lower jaw answered for the other. Eagle feathers were dangling fromevery mane and tail, as insignia of courage and speed. As for the rider, he wore no other clothing than a light cincture at his waist, and a pairof moccasins. He had a heavy whip, with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a lash of knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by an ornamentalband. His bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther skinhung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty of the hunters gallopedaway toward the left, in order to make a circuit under cover of thehills, that the buffalo might be assailed on both sides at once. The rest impatiently waited until time enough had elapsed for theircompanions to reach the required position. Then riding upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, and for the first time came in sight ofthe buffalo on the plain beyond. 

They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in number, who werecrowded together near the bank of a wide stream that was soakingacross the sand-beds of the valley. This was a large circular basin, sun-scorched and broken, scantily covered with herbage and encompassedwith high barren hills, from an opening in which we could see our alliesgalloping out upon the plain. The wind blew from that direction. Thebuffalo were aware of their approach, and had begun to move, though veryslowly and in a compact mass. I have no further recollection of seeingthe game until we were in the midst of them, for as we descended thehill other objects engrossed my attention. Numerous old bulls werescattered over the plain, and ungallantly deserting their charge at ourapproach, began to wade and plunge through the treacherous quick-sandsor the stream, and gallop away toward the hills. One old veteran wasstruggling behind all the rest with one of his forelegs, which hadbeen broken by some accident, dangling about uselessly at his side. Hisappearance, as he went shambling along on three legs, was so ludicrousthat I could not help pausing for a moment to look at him. As I camenear, he would try to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down atevery awkward attempt. Looking up, I saw the whole body of Indians fulla hundred yards in advance. I lashed Pauline in pursuit and reachedthem just in time, for as we mingled among them, each hunter, as if bya common impulse, violently struck his horse, each horse sprang forwardconvulsively, and scattering in the charge in order to assail the entireherd at once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. We were amongthem in an instant. Amid the trampling and the yells I could see theirdark figures running hither and thither through clouds of dust, and thehorsemen darting in pursuit. While we were charging on one side, ourcompanions had attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken herd onthe other. The uproar and confusion lasted but for a moment. The dustcleared away, and the buffalo could be seen scattering as from a commoncenter, flying over the plain singly, or in long files and small compactbodies, while behind each followed the Indians, lashing their horses tofurious speed, forcing them close upon their prey, and yelling as theylaunched arrow after arrow into their sides. The large black carcasseswere strewn thickly over the ground. Here and there wounded buffalo werestanding, their bleeding sides feathered with arrows; and as I rode pastthem their eyes would glare, they would bristle like gigantic cats, andfeebly attempt to rush up and gore my horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. Neither I normy horse were at that time fit for such sport, and I had determined toremain a quiet spectator; but amid the rush of horses and buffalo, theuproar and the dust, I found it impossible to sit still; and as four orfive buffalo ran past me in a line, I drove Pauline in pursuit. We wentplunging close at their heels through the water and the quick-sands, and clambering the bank, chased them through the wild-sage bushes thatcovered the rising ground beyond. But neither her native spirit nor theblows of the knotted bull-hide could supply the place of poor Pauline'sexhausted strength. We could not gain an inch upon the poor fugitives. At last, however, they came full upon a ravine too wide to leap over;and as this compelled them to turn abruptly to the left, I contrived toget within ten or twelve yards of the hindmost. At this she faced about, bristled angrily, and made a show of charging. I shot at her witha large holster pistol, and hit her somewhere in the neck. Down shetumbled into the ravine, whither her companions had descended beforeher. I saw their dark backs appearing and disappearing as they gallopedalong the bottom; then, one by one, they came scrambling out on theother side and ran off as before, the wounded animal following withunabated speed. 

Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black mule to meet me; and aswe rode over the field together, we counted dozens of carcasses lying onthe plain, in the ravines and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far awayin the distance, horses and buffalo were still scouring along, withlittle clouds of dust rising behind them; and over the sides ofthe hills we could see long files of the frightened animals rapidlyascending. The hunters began to return. The boys, who had held thehorses behind the hill, made their appearance, and the work of flayingand cutting up began in earnest all over the field. I noticed my hostKongra-Tonga beyond the stream, just alighting by the side of a cowwhich he had killed. Riding up to him I found him in the act of drawingout an arrow, which, with the exception of the notch at the end, hadentirely disappeared in the animal. I asked him to give it to me, andI still retain it as a proof, though by no means the most striking onethat could be offered, of the force and dexterity with which the Indiansdischarge their arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the hunters began toleave the ground. Raymond and I, too, getting tired of the scene, setout for the village, riding straight across the intervening desert. There was no path, and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficientto guide us; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive perception ofthe point on the horizon toward which we ought to direct our course. Antelope were bounding on all sides, and as is always the case in thepresence of buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural shyness andtimidity. Bands of them would run lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon us from the summit. At length we coulddistinguish the tall white rocks and the old pine trees that, as we wellremembered, were just above the site of the encampment. Still, we couldsee nothing of the village itself until, ascending a grassy hill, wefound the circle of lodges, dingy with storms and smoke, standing on theplain at our very feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly brought me foodand water, and spread a buffalo robe for me to lie upon; and being muchfatigued, I lay down and fell asleep. In about an hour the entrance ofKongra-Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me. He sat down in his usual seat on the left side of the lodge. His squawgave him a vessel of water for washing, set before him a bowl of boiledmeat, and as he was eating pulled off his bloody moccasins and placedfresh ones on his feet; then outstretching his limbs, my host composedhimself to sleep. 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, began to come rapidly in, and each, consigning his horses to the squaws, entered his lodge withthe air of a man whose day's work was done. The squaws flung down theload from the burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides weresoon accumulated before every lodge. By this time it was darkening fast, and the whole village was illumined by the glare of fires blazing allaround. All the squaws and children were gathered about the piles ofmeat, exploring them in search of the daintiest portions. Some of thesethey roasted on sticks before the fires, but often they dispensed withthis superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires were stillglowing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this savage banquetaround them. 

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's lodge to talkover the day's exploits. Among the rest, Mene-Seela came in. Though hemust have seen full eighty winters, he had taken an active share in theday's sport. He boasted that he had killed two cows that morning, andwould have killed a third if the dust had not blinded him so that he hadto drop his bow and arrows and press both hands against his eyes to stopthe pain. The firelight fell upon his wrinkled face and shriveled figureas he sat telling his story with such inimitable gesticulation thatevery man in the lodge broke into a laugh. 

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the village with whom Iwould have trusted myself alone without suspicion, and the only one fromwhom I would have received a gift or a service without the certaintythat it proceeded from an interested motive. He was a great friend tothe whites. He liked to be in their society, and was very vain of thefavors he had received from them. He told me one afternoon, as we weresitting together in his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver andthe whites the wisest people on earth; indeed, he was convinced theywere the same; and an incident which had happened to him long before hadassured him of this. So he began the following story, and as the pipepassed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these interruptions totranslate what had preceded. But the old man accompanied his words withsuch admirable pantomime that translation was hardly necessary. 

He said that when he was very young, and had never yet seen a white man, he and three or four of his companions were out on a beaver hunt, and hecrawled into a large beaver lodge, to examine what was there. Sometimeshe was creeping on his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged toswim, and sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag himself along. Inthis way he crawled a great distance underground. It was very dark, coldand close, so that at last he was almost suffocated, and fell into aswoon. When he began to recover, he could just distinguish the voices ofhis companions outside, who had given him up for lost, and were singinghis death song. At first he could see nothing, but soon he discernedsomething white before him, and at length plainly distinguished threepeople, entirely white; one man and two women, sitting at the edge ofa black pool of water. He became alarmed and thought it high time toretreat. Having succeeded, after great trouble, in reaching daylightagain, he went straight to the spot directly above the pool of waterwhere he had seen the three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole withhis war club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In a moment the noseof an old male beaver appeared at the opening. Mene-Seela instantlyseized him and dragged him up, when two other beavers, both females, thrust out their heads, and these he served in the same way. "These, "continued the old man, "must have been the three white people whom I sawsitting at the edge of the water. "

Mene-Seela was the grand depository of the legends and traditions of thevillage. I succeeded, however, in getting from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was excessively superstitious, and continually sawsome reason for withholding his stories. "It is a bad thing, " he wouldsay, "to tell the tales in summer. Stay with us till next winter, and Iwill tell you everything I know; but now our war parties are going out, and our young men will be killed if I sit down to tell stories beforethe frost begins. "

But to leave this digression. We remained encamped on this spot fivedays, during three of which the hunters were at work incessantly, andimmense quantities of meat and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, prevailed in the village. All were on the alert. The young menwere ranging through the country as scouts, and the old men paid carefulattention to omens and prodigies, and especially to their dreams. Inorder to convey to the enemy (who, if they were in the neighborhood, must inevitably have known of our presence) the impression that we wereconstantly on the watch, piles of sticks and stones were erected on allthe surrounding hills, in such a manner as to appear at a distance likesentinels. Often, even to this hour, that scene will rise before mymind like a visible reality: the tall white rocks; the old pine treeson their summits; the sandy stream that ran along their bases and halfencircled the village; and the wild-sage bushes, with their dullgreen hue and their medicinal odor, that covered all the neighboringdeclivities. Hour after hour the squaws would pass and repass with theirvessels of water between the stream and the lodges. For the most partno one was to be seen in the camp but women and children, two or threesuper-annuated old men, and a few lazy and worthless young ones. These, together with the dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with theabundance in the camp, were its only tenants. Still it presented a busyand bustling scene. In all quarters the meat, hung on cords of hide, wasdrying in the sun, and around the lodges the squaws, young and old, were laboring on the fresh hides that were stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair from one side and the still adhering flesh from theother, and rubbing into them the brains of the buffalo, in order torender them soft and pliant. 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went out with the hunters afterthe first day. Of late, however, I had been gaining strength rapidly, aswas always the case upon every respite of my disorder. I was soon ableto walk with ease. Raymond and I would go out upon the neighboringprairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, on foot, an attempt in which we met with rather indifferent success. Tokill a bull with a rifle-ball is a difficult art, in the secret of whichI was as yet very imperfectly initiated. As I came out of Kongra-Tonga'slodge one morning, Reynal called to me from the opposite side of thevillage, and asked me over to breakfast. The breakfast was a substantialone. It consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a repastabsolutely unrivaled. It was roasting before the fire, impaled upon astout stick, which Reynal took up and planted in the ground before hislodge; when he, with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good will. It spite of allmedical experience, this solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed toagree with me admirably. 

"We shall have strangers here before night, " said Reynal. 

"How do you know that?" I asked. 

"I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. There is theHail-Storm; he dreamed the same thing, and he and his crony, the Rabbit, have gone out on discovery. "

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two on the prairie, saw an oldbull standing alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him and saw him escape. Then, quite exhausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to thevillage. By a strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction had beenverified; for the first persons whom I saw were the two trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These men, as the reader maypossibly recollect, had left our party about a fortnight before. Theyhad been trapping for a while among the Black Hills, and were now ontheir way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or two to set outfor the neighboring Medicine Bow. They were not the most elegant orrefined of companions, yet they made a very welcome addition to thelimited society of the village. For the rest of that day we lay smokingand talking in Reynal's lodge. This indeed was no better than a littlehut, made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely open in front. It was well carpeted with soft buffalo robes, and here we remained, sheltered from the sun, surrounded by various domestic utensils ofMadame Margot's household. All was quiet in the village. Though thehunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and most of the women were silently engaged in their heavy tasks. A fewyoung men were playing a lazy game of ball in the center of the village;and when they became tired, some girls supplied their place with a moreboisterous sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some childrenand half-grown squaws were playfully tossing up one of their number ina buffalo robe, an exact counterpart of the ancient pastime from whichSancho Panza suffered so much. Farther out on the prairie, a host oflittle naked boys were roaming about, engaged in various rough games, orpursuing birds and ground-squirrels with their bows and arrows; andwoe to the unhappy little animals that fell into their merciless, torture-loving hands! A squaw from the next lodge, a notable activehousewife named Weah Washtay, or the Good Woman, brought us a large bowlof wasna, and went into an ecstasy of delight when I presented herwith a green glass ring, such as I usually wore with a view to similaroccasions. 

The sun went down and half the sky was growing fiery red, reflected onthe little stream as it wound away among the sagebushes. Some youngmen left the village, and soon returned, driving in before them allthe horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and color. Thehunters came out, and each securing those that belonged to him, examinedtheir condition, and tied them fast by long cords to stakes driven infront of his lodge. It was half an hour before the bustle subsidedand tranquillity was restored again. By this time it was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the blazing fires, around which the squaws weregathered with their children, laughing and talking merrily. A circleof a different kind was formed in the center of the village. This wascomposed of the old men and warriors of repute, who with their whitebuffalo robes drawn close around their shoulders, sat together, and asthe pipe passed from hand to hand, their conversation had not a particleof the gravity and reserve usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down withthem as usual. I had in my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, whichI had made one day when encamped upon Laramie Creek, out of gunpowderand charcoal, and the leaves of "Fremont's Expedition, " rolled round astout lead pencil. I waited till I contrived to get hold of the largepiece of burning BOIS DE VACHE which the Indians kept by them on theground for lighting their pipes. With this I lighted all the fireworksat once, and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the air, overthe heads of the company. They all jumped up and ran off with yelps ofastonishment and consternation. After a moment or two, they ventured tocome back one by one, and some of the boldest, picking up the casesof burnt paper that were scattered about, examined them with eagercuriosity to discover their mysterious secret. From that time forward Ienjoyed great repute as a "fire-medicine. "

The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful voices. There wereother sounds, however, of a very different kind, for from a large lodge, lighted up like a gigantic lantern by the blazing fire within, came achorus of dismal cries and wailings, long drawn out, like the howling ofwolves, and a woman, almost naked, was crouching close outside, cryingviolently, and gashing her legs with a knife till they were covered withblood. Just a year before, a young man belonging to this family had goneout with a war party and had been slain by the enemy, and his relativeswere thus lamenting his loss. Still other sounds might be heard; loudearnest cries often repeated from amid the gloom, at a distance beyondthe village. They proceeded from some young men who, being about to setout in a few days on a warlike expedition, were standing at the top of ahill, calling on the Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. WhileI was listening, Rouleau, with a laugh on his careless face, called tome and directed my attention to another quarter. In front of the lodgewhere Weah Washtay lived another squaw was standing, angrily scolding anold yellow dog, who lay on the ground with his nose resting betweenhis paws, and his eyes turned sleepily up to her face, as if he werepretending to give respectful attention, but resolved to fall asleep assoon as it was all over. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said the old woman. "I have fedyou well, and taken care of you ever since you were small and blind, andcould only crawl about and squeal a little, instead of howling as you donow. When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. You were strong andgentle when the load was put on your back, and you never ran among thefeet of the horses when we were all traveling together over the prairie. But you had a bad heart! Whenever a rabbit jumped out of the bushes, youwere always the first to run after him and lead away all the other dogsbehind you. You ought to have known that it was very dangerous to actso. When you had got far out on the prairie, and no one was near to helpyou, perhaps a wolf would jump out of the ravine; and then what couldyou do? You would certainly have been killed, for no dog can fight wellwith a load on his back. Only three days ago you ran off in that way, and turned over the bag of wooden pins with which I used to fasten upthe front of the lodge. Look up there, and you will see that it is allflapping open. And now to-night you have stolen a great piece of fatmeat which was roasting before the fire for my children. I tell you, youhave a bad heart, and you must die!"

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming out with a largestone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog at one blow. This speechis worthy of notice as illustrating a curious characteristic of theIndians: the ascribing intelligence and a power of understanding speechto the inferior animals, to whom, indeed, according to many of theirtraditions, they are linked in close affinity, and they even claim thehonor of a lineal descent from bears, wolves, deer, or tortoises. 

As it grew late, and the crowded population began to disappear, I toowalked across the village to the lodge of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As Ientered I saw him, by the flickering blaze of the fire in the center, reclining half asleep in his usual place. His couch was by no means anuncomfortable one. It consisted of soft buffalo robes laid together onthe ground, and a pillow made of whitened deerskin stuffed with feathersand ornamented with beads. At his back was a light framework of polesand slender reeds, against which he could lean with ease when in asitting posture; and at the top of it, just above his head, his bowand quiver were hanging. His squaw, a laughing, broad-faced woman, apparently had not yet completed her domestic arrangements, for she wasbustling about the lodge, pulling over the utensils and the bales ofdried meats that were ranged carefully round it. Unhappily, she andher partner were not the only tenants of the dwelling, for half a dozenchildren were scattered about, sleeping in every imaginable posture. Mysaddle was in its place at the head of the lodge and a buffalo robewas spread on the ground before it. Wrapping myself in my blanket I laydown, but had I not been extremely fatigued the noise in the next lodgewould have prevented my sleeping. There was the monotonous thumping ofthe Indian drum, mixed with occasional sharp yells, and a chorus chantedby twenty voices. A grand scene of gambling was going forward with allthe appropriate formalities. The players were staking on the chanceissue of the game their ornaments, their horses, and as the excitementrose, their garments, and even their weapons, for desperate gamblingis not confined to the hells of Paris. The men of the plains and theforests no less resort to it as a violent but grateful relief tothe tedious monotony of their lives, which alternate between fierceexcitement and listless inaction. I fell asleep with the dull notesof the drum still sounding on my ear, but these furious orgies lastedwithout intermission till daylight. I was soon awakened by one of thechildren crawling over me, while another larger one was tugging atmy blanket and nestling himself in a very disagreeable proximity. Iimmediately repelled these advances by punching the heads of theseminiature savages with a short stick which I always kept by me for thepurpose; and as sleeping half the day and eating much more than is goodfor them makes them extremely restless, this operation usually had to berepeated four or five times in the course of the night. My host himselfwas the author of another most formidable annoyance. All theseIndians, and he among the rest, think themselves bound to the constantperformance of certain acts as the condition on which their success inlife depends, whether in war, love, hunting, or any other employment. These "medicines, " as they are called in that country, which are usuallycommunicated in dreams, are often absurd enough. Some Indians willstrike the butt of the pipe against the ground every time they smoke;others will insist that everything they say shall be interpreted bycontraries; and Shaw once met an old man who conceived that all would belost unless he compelled every white man he met to drink a bowl of coldwater. My host was particularly unfortunate in his allotment. The GreatSpirit had told him in a dream that he must sing a certain song in themiddle of every night; and regularly at about twelve o'clock his dismalmonotonous chanting would awaken me, and I would see him seated boltupright on his couch, going through his dolorous performances with amost business-like air. There were other voices of the night still moreinharmonious. Twice or thrice, between sunset and dawn, all the dogsin the village, and there were hundreds of them, would bay and yelp inchorus; a most horrible clamor, resembling no sound that I have everheard, except perhaps the frightful howling of wolves that we usedsometimes to hear long afterward when descending the Arkansas on thetrail of General Kearny's army. The canine uproar is, if possible, morediscordant than that of the wolves. Heard at a distance, slowly risingon the night, it has a strange unearthly effect, and would fearfullyhaunt the dreams of a nervous man; but when you are sleeping in themidst of it the din is outrageous. One long loud howl from the nextlodge perhaps begins it, and voice after voice takes up the sound tillit passes around the whole circumference of the village, and the air isfilled with confused and discordant cries, at once fierce and mournful. It lasts but for a moment and then dies away into silence. 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, rode out with thehunters. It may not be amiss to glance at him for an instant in hisdomestic character of husband and father. Both he and his squaw, likemost other Indians, were very fond of their children, whom they indulgedto excess, and never punished, except in extreme cases when theywould throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their offspring becamesufficiently undutiful and disobedient under this system of education, which tends not a little to foster that wild idea of liberty and utterintolerance of restraint which lie at the very foundation of the Indiancharacter. It would be hard to find a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga. There was one urchin in particular, rather less than two feet high, towhom he was exceedingly attached; and sometimes spreading a buffalo robein the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, place his small favoriteupright before him, and chant in a low tone some of the words used as anaccompaniment to the war dance. The little fellow, who could just manageto balance himself by stretching out both arms, would lift his feet andturn slowly round and round in time to his father's music, while my hostwould laugh with delight, and look smiling up into my face to see ifI were admiring this precocious performance of his offspring. In hiscapacity of husband he was somewhat less exemplary. The squaw who livedin the lodge with him had been his partner for many years. She tookgood care of his children and his household concerns. He liked her wellenough, and as far as I could see they never quarreled; but all hiswarmer affections were reserved for younger and more recent favorites. Of these he had at present only one, who lived in a lodge apart from hisown. One day while in his camp he became displeased with her, pushed herout, threw after her her ornaments, dresses, and everything she had, and told her to go home to her father. Having consummated this summarydivorce, for which he could show good reasons, he came back, seatedhimself in his usual place, and began to smoke with an air of utmosttranquillity and self-satisfaction. 

I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very afternoon, when I feltsome curiosity to learn the history of the numerous scars that appearedon his naked body. Of some of them, however, I did not venture toinquire, for I already understood their origin. Each of his arms wasmarked as if deeply gashed with a knife at regular intervals, and therewere other scars also, of a different character, on his back and oneither breast. They were the traces of those formidable tortureswhich these Indians, in common with a few other tribes, inflict uponthemselves at certain seasons; in part, it may be, to gain the glory ofcourage and endurance, but chiefly as an act of self-sacrifice to securethe favor of the Great Spirit. The scars upon the breast and back wereproduced by running through the flesh strong splints of wood, to whichponderous buffalo-skulls are fastened by cords of hide, and the wretchruns forward with all his strength, assisted by two companions, who takehold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart and the heavy loadsare left behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's scars were the result ofaccidents; but he had many which he received in war. He was one of themost noted warriors in the village. In the course of his life he hadslain as he boasted to me, fourteen men, and though, like other Indians, he was a great braggart and utterly regardless of truth, yet in thisstatement common report bore him out. Being much flattered by myinquiries he told me tale after tale, true or false, of his warlikeexploits; and there was one among the rest illustrating the worstfeatures of the Indian character too well for me to omit. Pointing outof the opening of the lodge toward the Medicine-Bow Mountain, not manymiles distant he said that he was there a few summers ago with a warparty of his young men. Here they found two Snake Indians, hunting. Theyshot one of them with arrows and chased the other up the side of themountain till they surrounded him on a level place, and Kongra-Tongahimself, jumping forward among the trees, seized him by the arm. Two ofhis young men then ran up and held him fast while he scalped him alive. Then they built a great fire, and cutting the tendons of their captive'swrists and feet, threw him in, and held him down with long polesuntil he was burnt to death. He garnished his story with a great manydescriptive particulars much too revolting to mention. His features wereremarkably mild and open, without the fierceness of expression commonamong these Indians; and as he detailed these devilish cruelties, helooked up into my face with the same air of earnest simplicity which alittle child would wear in relating to its mother some anecdote of itsyouthful experience. 

Old Mene-Seela's lodge could offer another illustration of the ferocityof Indian warfare. A bright-eyed, active little boy was living there. He had belonged to a village of the Gros-Ventre Blackfeet, a small butbloody and treacherous band, in close alliance with the Arapahoes. Abouta year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of warriors had found abouttwenty lodges of these Indians upon the plains a little to the eastwardof our present camp; and surrounding them in the night, they butcheredmen, women, and children without mercy, preserving only this littleboy alive. He was adopted into the old man's family, and was now fastbecoming identified with the Ogallalla children, among whom he mingledon equal terms. There was also a Crow warrior in the village, a man ofgigantic stature and most symmetrical proportions. Having been takenprisoner many years before and adopted by a squaw in place of a son whomshe had lost, he had forgotten his old national antipathies, and was nowboth in act and inclination an Ogallalla. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand warlike combinationagainst the Snake and Crow Indians originated in this village; andthough this plan had fallen to the ground, the embers of the martialardor continued to glow brightly. Eleven young men had preparedthemselves to go out against the enemy. The fourth day of our stay inthis camp was fixed upon for their departure. At the head of this partywas a well-built active little Indian, called the White Shield, whom Ihad always noticed for the great neatness of his dress and appearance. His lodge too, though not a large one, was the best in the village, his squaw was one of the prettiest girls, and altogether his dwellingpresented a complete model of an Ogallalla domestic establishment. Iwas often a visitor there, for the White Shield being rather partialto white men, used to invite me to continual feasts at all hours of theday. Once when the substantial part of the entertainment was concluded, and he and I were seated cross-legged on a buffalo robe smoking togethervery amicably, he took down his warlike equipments, which werehanging around the lodge, and displayed them with great pride andself-importance. Among the rest was a most superb headdress of feathers. Taking this from its case, he put it on and stood before me, as ifconscious of the gallant air which it gave to his dark face and hisvigorous, graceful figure. He told me that upon it were the feathers ofthree war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good horses. Hetook up also a shield gayly painted and hung with feathers. The effectof these barbaric ornaments was admirable, for they were arranged withno little skill and taste. His quiver was made of the spotted skin of asmall panther, such as are common among the Black Hills, from which thetail and distended claws were still allowed to hang. The White Shieldconcluded his entertainment in a manner characteristic of an Indian. Hebegged of me a little powder and ball, for he had a gun as well as bowand arrows; but this I was obliged to refuse, because I had scarcelyenough for my own use. Making him, however, a parting present of a paperof vermilion, I left him apparently quite contented. 

Unhappily on the next morning the White Shield took cold and wasattacked with a violent inflammation of the throat. Immediately heseemed to lose all spirit, and though before no warrior in the villagehad borne himself more proudly, he now moped about from lodge to lodgewith a forlorn and dejected air. At length he came and sat down, closewrapped in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but when he found thatneither he nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose and stalked over toone of the medicine-men of the village. This old imposter thumped himfor some time with both fists, howled and yelped over him, and beat adrum close to his ear to expel the evil spirit that had taken possessionof him. This vigorous treatment failing of the desired effect, the WhiteShield withdrew to his own lodge, where he lay disconsolate for somehours. Making his appearance once more in the afternoon, he again tookhis seat on the ground before Reynal's lodge, holding his throat withhis hand. For some time he sat perfectly silent with his eyes fixedmournfully on the ground. At last he began to speak in a low tone:

"I am a brave man, " he said; "all the young men think me a greatwarrior, and ten of them are ready to go with me to the war. I will goand show them the enemy. Last summer the Snakes killed my brother. Icannot live unless I revenge his death. To-morrow we will set out and Iwill take their scalps. "

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, seemed to have lostall the accustomed fire and spirit of his look, and hung his head as ifin a fit of despondency. 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw him arrayed inhis splendid war dress, his cheeks painted with vermilion, leading hisfavorite war horse to the front of his lodge. He mounted and rode roundthe village, singing his war song in a loud hoarse voice amid theshrill acclamations of the women. Then dismounting, he remained for someminutes prostrate upon the ground, as if in an act of supplication. On the following morning I looked in vain for the departure of thewarriors. All was quiet in the village until late in the forenoon, whenthe White Shield, issuing from his lodge, came and seated himself in hisold place before us. Reynal asked him why he had not gone out to findthe enemy. 

"I cannot go, " answered the White Shield in a dejected voice. "I havegiven my war arrows to the Meneaska. "

"You have only given him two of your arrows, " said Reynal. "If you askhim, he will give them back again. "

For some time the White Shield said nothing. At last he spoke in agloomy tone:

"One of my young men has had bad dreams. The spirits of the dead cameand threw stones at him in his sleep. "

If such a dream had actually taken place it might have broken up thisor any other war party, but both Reynal and I were convinced at the timethat it was a mere fabrication to excuse his remaining at home. 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. Very probably, he wouldhave received a mortal wound without a show of pain, and endured withoutflinching the worst tortures that an enemy could inflict upon him. Thewhole power of an Indian's nature would be summoned to encounter sucha trial; every influence of his education from childhood would haveprepared him for it; the cause of his suffering would have been visiblyand palpably before him, and his spirit would rise to set his enemy atdefiance, and gain the highest glory of a warrior by meeting death withfortitude. But when he feels himself attacked by a mysterious evil, before whose insidious assaults his manhood is wasted, and his strengthdrained away, when he can see no enemy to resist and defy, the boldestwarrior falls prostrate at once. He believes that a bad spirit hastaken possession of him, or that he is the victim of some charm. Whensuffering from a protracted disorder, an Indian will often abandonhimself to his supposed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of hisown imagination. The same effect will often follow from a series ofcalamities, or a long run of ill success, and the sufferer has beenknown to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp, or attack a grizzlybear single-handed, to get rid of a life which he supposed to lie underthe doom of misfortune. 

Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon the Great Spirit, the White Shield's war party was pitifully broken up. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE TRAPPERS

In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten two bold adventurersof another race, the trappers Rouleau and Saraphin. These men were benton a most hazardous enterprise. A day's journey to the westward was thecountry over which the Arapahoes are accustomed to range, and for whichthe two trappers were on the point of setting out. These Arapahoes, ofwhom Shaw and I afterward fell in with a large village, are ferociousbarbarians, of a most brutal and wolfish aspect, and of late they haddeclared themselves enemies to the whites, and threatened death to thefirst who should venture within their territory. The occasion of thedeclaration was as follows:

In the previous spring, 1845, Colonel Kearny left Fort Leavenworth withseveral companies of dragoons, and marching with extraordinary celerityreached Fort Laramie, whence he passed along the foot of the mountainsto Bent's Fort and then, turning eastward again, returned to the pointfrom whence he set out. While at Fort Larantie, he sent a part of hiscommand as far westward as Sweetwater, while he himself remained at thefort, and dispatched messages to the surrounding Indians to meet himthere in council. Then for the first time the tribes of that vicinitysaw the white warriors, and, as might have been expected, they werelost in astonishment at their regular order, their gay attire, thecompleteness of their martial equipment, and the great size and power oftheir horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes came in considerable numbersto the fort. They had lately committed numerous acts of outrage, andColonel Kearny threatened that if they killed any more white men hewould turn loose his dragoons upon them, and annihilate their wholenation. In the evening, to add effect to his speech, he ordered ahowitzer to be fired and a rocket to be thrown up. Many of the Arapahoesfell prostrate on the ground, while others ran screaming with amazementand terror. On the following day they withdrew to their mountains, confounded with awe at the appearance of the dragoons, at their big gunwhich went off twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which they hadsent up to the Great Spirit. For many months they remained quiet, and did no further mischief. At length, just before we came into thecountry, one of them, by an act of the basest treachery, killed twowhite men, Boot and May, who were trapping among the mountains. For thisact it was impossible to discover a motive. It seemed to spring from oneof those inexplicable impulses which often actuate Indians and appearno better than the mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was themurder committed than the whole tribe were in extreme consternation. They expected every day that the avenging dragoons would arrive, littlethinking that a desert of nine hundred miles in extent lay between thelatter and their mountain fastnesses. A large deputation of them came toFort Laramie, bringing a valuable present of horses, in compensation forthe lives of the murdered men. These Bordeaux refused to accept. Theythen asked him if he would be satisfied with their delivering up themurderer himself; but he declined this offer also. The Arapahoes wentback more terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no dragoonsappeared. A result followed which all those best acquainted with Indianshad predicted. They conceived that fear had prevented Bordeaux fromaccepting their gifts, and that they had nothing to apprehend fromthe vengeance of the whites. From terror they rose to the height ofinsolence and presumption. They called the white men cowards and oldwomen; and a friendly Dakota came to Fort Laramie and reported that theywere determined to kill the first of the white dogs whom they could layhands on. 

Had a military officer, intrusted with suitable powers, been stationedat Fort Laramie, and having accepted the offer of the Arapahoes todeliver up the murderer, had ordered him to be immediately led outand shot, in presence of his tribe, they would have been awed intotranquillity, and much danger and calamity averted; but now theneighborhood of the Medicine-Bow Mountain and the region beyond it was ascene of extreme peril. Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of the whites, andmany other of the Indians gathered about the two trappers, and vainlyendeavored to turn them from their purpose; but Rouleau and Saraphinonly laughed at the danger. On the morning preceding that on which theywere to leave the camp, we could all discern faint white columns ofsmoke rising against the dark base of the Medicine-Bow. Scouts were outimmediately, and reported that these proceeded from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours before. Still the two trappers continuedtheir preparations for departure. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and sinistercountenance. His rifle had very probably drawn other blood than that ofbuffalo or even Indians. Rouleau had a broad ruddy face marked with asfew traces of thought or care as a child's. His figure was remarkablysquare and strong, but the first joints of both his feet were frozenoff, and his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by whichhe had been severely injured in the chest. But nothing could check hisinveterate propensity for laughter and gayety. He went all day rollingabout the camp on his stumps of feet, talking and singing and frolickingwith the Indian women, as they were engaged at their work. In factRouleau had an unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had one whom hemust needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and all the finery of an Indianwardrobe; and though he was of course obliged to leave her behind himduring his expeditions, yet this hazardous necessity did not at alltrouble him, for his disposition was the very reverse of jealous. If atany time he had not lavished the whole of the precarious profits of hisvocation upon his dark favorite, he always devoted the rest to feastinghis comrades. If liquor was not to be had--and this was usually thecase--strong coffee was substituted. As the men of that region are byno means remarkable for providence or self-restraint, whatever wasset before them on these occasions, however extravagant in price, orenormous in quantity, was sure to be disposed of at one sitting. Likeother trappers, Rouleau's life was one of contrast and variety. It wasonly at certain seasons, and for a limited time, that he was absent onhis expeditions. For the rest of the year he would be lounging about thefort, or encamped with his friends in its vicinity, lazily hunting orenjoying all the luxury of inaction; but when once in pursuit of beaver, he was involved in extreme privations and desperate perils. When inthe midst of his game and his enemies, hand and foot, eye and ear, areincessantly active. Frequently he must content himself with devouringhis evening meal uncooked, lest the light of his fire should attractthe eyes of some wandering Indian; and sometimes having made his ruderepast, he must leave his fire still blazing, and withdraw to a distanceunder cover of the darkness, that his disappointed enemy, drawn thitherby the light, may find his victim gone, and be unable to trace hisfootsteps in the gloom. This is the life led by scores of men in theRocky Mountains and their vicinity. I once met a trapper whose breastwas marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one of his armsbroken by a shot and one of his knees shattered; yet still, with theundaunted mettle of New England, from which part of the country he hadcome, he continued to follow his perilous occupation. To some of thechildren of cities it may seem strange that men with no object inview should continue to follow a life of such hardship and desperateadventure; yet there is a mysterious, restless charm in the basilisk eyeof danger, and few men perhaps remain long in that wild region withoutlearning to love peril for its own sake, and to laugh carelessly in theface of death. 

On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers were ready fordeparture. When in the Black Hills they had caught seven beaver, andthey now left their skins in charge of Reynal, to be kept until theirreturn. Their strong, gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish bitsand rude Mexican saddles, to which wooden stirrups were attached, whilea buffalo robe was rolled up behind them, and a bundle of beaver trapsslung at the pommel. These, together with their rifles, their knives, their powder-horns and bullet-pouches, flint and steel and a tincup, composed their whole traveling equipment. They shook hands with us androde away; Saraphin with his grim countenance, like a surly bulldog's, was in advance; but Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked hishorse's sides, flourished his whip in the air, and trotted briskly overthe prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at the top of his lungs. Reynal looked after them with his face of brutal selfishness. 

"Well, " he said, "if they are killed, I shall have the beaver. They'llfetch me fifty dollars at the fort, anyhow. "

This was the last I saw of them. 

We had been for five days in the hunting camp, and the meat, which allthis time had hung drying in the sun, was now fit for transportation. Buffalo hides also had been procured in sufficient quantities for makingthe next season's lodges; but it remained to provide the long slenderpoles on which they were to be supported. These were only to be hadamong the tall pine woods of the Black Hills, and in that directiontherefore our next move was to be made. It is worthy of notice that amidthe general abundance which during this time had prevailed in the campthere were no instances of individual privation; for although the hideand the tongue of the buffalo belong by exclusive right to the hunterwho has killed it, yet anyone else is equally entitled to help himselffrom the rest of the carcass. Thus, the weak, the aged, and even theindolent come in for a share of the spoils, and many a helpless oldwoman, who would otherwise perish from starvation, is sustained inprofuse abundance. 

On the 25th of July, late in the afternoon, the camp broke up, withthe usual tumult and confusion, and we were all moving once more, onhorseback and on foot, over the plains. We advanced, however, but a fewmiles. The old men, who during the whole march had been stoutly stridingalong on foot in front of the people, now seated themselves in a circleon the ground, while all the families, erecting their lodges in theprescribed order around them, formed the usual great circle of the camp;meanwhile these village patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I threw mybridle to Raymond, and sat down as usual along with them. There was noneof that reserve and apparent dignity which an Indian always assumeswhen in council, or in the presence of white men whom he distrusts. Theparty, on the contrary, was an extremely merry one; and as in a socialcircle of a quite different character, "if there was not much wit, therewas at least a great deal of laughter. "

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and withdrew to the lodge ofmy host. Here I was stooping, in the act of taking off my powder-hornand bullet-pouch, when suddenly, and close at hand, pealing loudand shrill, and in right good earnest, came the terrific yell of thewar-whoop. Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child, and ranout of the lodge. I followed, and found the whole village in confusion, resounding with cries and yells. The circle of old men in the center hadvanished. The warriors with glittering eyes came darting, their weaponsin their hands, out of the low opening of the lodges, and running withwild yells toward the farther end of the village. Advancing a few rodsin that direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation, while others ranup on every side to add to the confusion. Just then I distinguishedthe voices of Raymond and Reynal, shouting to me from a distance, andlooking back, I saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, standing onthe farther bank of a little stream that ran along the outskirts of thecamp. He was calling to Raymond and myself to come over and join him, and Raymond, with his usual deliberate gait and stolid countenance, wasalready moving in that direction. 

This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to involveourselves in the fray; so I turned to go, but just then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an aged familiar countenance was thrustfrom the opening of a neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of fight, clutching his bow and arrows in one hand and his knifein the other. At that instant he tripped and fell sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scattering away in every direction. The womenwith loud screams were hurrying with their children in their arms toplace them out of danger, and I observed some hastening to preventmischief, by carrying away all the weapons they could lay hands on. Ona rising ground close to the camp stood a line of old women singing amedicine song to allay the tumult. As I approached the side of the brookI heard gun-shots behind me, and turning back, I saw that the crowd hadseparated into two lines of naked warriors confronting each other at arespectful distance, and yelling and jumping about to dodge the shot oftheir adversaries, while they discharged bullets and arrows against eachother. At the same time certain sharp, humming sounds in the air over myhead, like the flight of beetles on a summer evening, warned me that thedanger was not wholly confined to the immediate scene of the fray. Sowading through the brook, I joined Reynal and Raymond, and we satdown on the grass, in the posture of an armed neutrality, to watch theresult. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite contrary to ourexpectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as soon as it hadcommenced. When I looked again, the combatants were once more mingledtogether in a mass. Though yells sounded, occasionally from the throng, the firing had entirely ceased, and I observed five or six personsmoving busily about, as if acting the part of peacemakers. One of thevillage heralds or criers proclaimed in a loud voice something whichmy two companions were too much engrossed in their own observations totranslate for me. The crowd began to disperse, though many a deep-setblack eye still glittered with an unnatural luster, as the warriorsslowly withdrew to their lodges. This fortunate suppression of thedisturbance was owing to a few of the old men, less pugnacious thanMene-Seela, who boldly ran in between the combatants and aided bysome of the "soldiers, " or Indian police, succeeded in effecting theirobject. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many arrows and bullets weredischarged, no one was mortally hurt, and I could only account forthis by the fact that both the marksman and the object of his aim wereleaping about incessantly during the whole time. By far the greater partof the villagers had joined in the fray, for although there were notmore than a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least eight or tenshots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A large circle ofwarriors were again seated in the center of the village, but this timeI did not venture to join them, because I could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual order, was passing from the left hand to the rightaround the circle, a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke" of reconciliationwas going forward, and that a white man would be an unwelcome intruder. When I again entered the still agitated camp it was nearly dark, andmournful cries, howls and wailings resounded from many female voices. Whether these had any connection with the late disturbance, or weremerely lamentations for relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I could not distinctly ascertain. 

To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was by no meansprudent, and it was not until some time after that I discovered whathad given rise to it. Among the Dakota there are many associations, orfraternities, connected with the purposes of their superstitions, their warfare, or their social life. There was one called "TheArrow-Breakers, " now in a great measure disbanded and dispersed. In thevillage there were, however, four men belonging to it, distinguished bythe peculiar arrangement of their hair, which rose in a high bristlingmass above their foreheads, adding greatly to their apparent height, andgiving them a most ferocious appearance. The principal among them wasthe Mad Wolf, a warrior of remarkable size and strength, great courage, and the fierceness of a demon. I had always looked upon him as the mostdangerous man in the village; and though he often invited me to feasts, I never entered his lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to afine horse belonging to another Indian, who was called the Tall Bear;and anxious to get the animal into his possession, he made the owner apresent of another horse nearly equal in value. According to the customsof the Dakota, the acceptance of this gift involved a sort of obligationto make an equitable return; and the Tall Bear well understood thatthe other had in view the obtaining of his favorite buffalo horse. He however accepted the present without a word of thanks, and havingpicketed the horse before his lodge, he suffered day after day to passwithout making the expected return. The Mad Wolf grew impatient andangry; and at last, seeing that his bounty was not likely to produce thedesired return, he resolved to reclaim it. So this evening, as soon asthe village was encamped, he went to the lodge of the Tall Bear, seizedupon the horse that he had given him, and led him away. At this the TallBear broke into one of those fits of sullen rage not uncommon among theIndians. He ran up to the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mortalsstabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad Wolf drew his bow toits utmost tension, and held the arrow quivering close to the breastof his adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, stood with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant with theutmost calmness. Some of his friends and relatives, seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. The remaining three Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, came to the aid of their associate. Many of theirfriends joined them, the war-cry was raised on a sudden, and the tumultbecame general. 

The "soldiers, " who lent their timely aid in putting it down, are byfar the most important executive functionaries in an Indian village. The office is one of considerable honor, being confided only to men ofcourage and repute. They derive their authority from the old men andchief warriors of the village, who elect them in councils occasionallyconvened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of authoritywhich no one else in the village would dare to assume. While very fewOgallalla chiefs could venture without instant jeopardy of their livesto strike or lay hands upon the meanest of their people, the "soldiers"in the discharge of their appropriate functions, have full license tomake use of these and similar acts of coercion. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE BLACK HILLS

We traveled eastward for two days, and then the gloomy ridges of theBlack Hills rose up before us. The village passed along for some milesbeneath their declivities, trailing out to a great length over the aridprairie, or winding at times among small detached hills or distortedshapes. Turning sharply to the left, we entered a wide defile of themountains, down the bottom of which a brook came winding, lined withtall grass and dense copses, amid which were hidden many beaver dams andlodges. We passed along between two lines of high precipices and rocks, piled in utter disorder one upon another, and with scarcely a tree, abush, or a clump of grass to veil their nakedness. The restless Indianboys were wandering along their edges and clambering up and down theirrugged sides, and sometimes a group of them would stand on the verge ofa cliff and look down on the array as it passed in review beneath them. As we advanced, the passage grew more narrow; then it suddenly expandedinto a round grassy meadow, completely encompassed by mountains; andhere the families stopped as they came up in turn, and the camp roselike magic. 

The lodges were hardly erected when, with their usual precipitation, theIndians set about accomplishing the object that had brought them there;that is, the obtaining poles for supporting their new lodges. Half thepopulation, men, women and boys, mounted their horses and set out forthe interior of the mountains. As they rode at full gallop over theshingly rocks and into the dark opening of the defile beyond, I thoughtI had never read or dreamed of a more strange or picturesque cavalcade. We passed between precipices more than a thousand feet high, sharpand splintering at the tops, their sides beetling over the defile ordescending in abrupt declivities, bristling with black fir trees. On ourleft they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right a winding brookwith a narrow strip of marshy soil intervened. The stream was cloggedwith old beaver dams, and spread frequently into wide pools. There werethick bushes and many dead and blasted trees along its course, thoughfrequently nothing remained but stumps cut close to the ground bythe beaver, and marked with the sharp chisel-like teeth of thoseindefatigable laborers. Sometimes we were driving among trees, and thenemerging upon open spots, over which, Indian-like, all galloped atfull speed. As Pauline bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girthslipping, and alighted to draw it tighter; when the whole array sweptpast me in a moment, the women with their gaudy ornaments tinkling asthey rode, the men whooping, and laughing, and lashing forward theirhorses. Two black-tailed deer bounded away among the rocks; Raymond shotat them from horseback; the sharp report of his rifle was answered byanother equally sharp from the opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, leaping in rapid succession from side to side, died away rattling faramid the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner for six or eight miles, theappearance of the scene began to change, and all the declivities aroundus were covered with forests of tall, slender pine trees. The Indiansbegan to fall off to the right and left, and dispersed with theirhatchets and knives among these woods, to cut the poles which they hadcome to seek. Soon I was left almost alone; but in the deep stillness ofthose lonely mountains, the stroke of hatchets and the sound of voicesmight be heard from far and near. 

Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well as the worstfeatures of their character, had killed buffalo enough to make alodge for himself and his squaw, and now he was eager to get the polesnecessary to complete it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him andassist in the work. I assented, and the two men immediately entered thethickest part of the wood. Having left my horse in Raymond's keeping, I began to climb the mountain. I was weak and weary and made slowprogress, often pausing to rest, but after an hour had elapsed, I gaineda height, whence the little valley out of which I had climbed seemedlike a deep, dark gulf, though the inaccessible peak of the mountain wasstill towering to a much greater distance above. Objects familiar fromchildhood surrounded me; crags and rocks, a black and sullen brook thatgurgled with a hollow voice deep among the crevices, a wood of mossydistorted trees and prostrate trunks flung down by age and storms, scattered among the rocks, or damming the foaming waters of the littlebrook. The objects were the same, yet they were thrown into a wilder andmore startling scene, for the black crags and the savage trees assumeda grim and threatening aspect, and close across the valley the opposingmountain confronted me, rising from the gulf for thousands of feet, withits bare pinnacles and its ragged covering of pines. Yet the scene wasnot without its milder features. As I ascended, I found frequent littlegrassy terraces, and there was one of these close at hand, across whichthe brook was stealing, beneath the shade of scattered trees that seemedartificially planted. Here I made a welcome discovery, no other than abed of strawberries, with their white flowers and their red fruit, closenestled among the grass by the side of the brook, and I sat down bythem, hailing them as old acquaintances; for among those lonely andperilous mountains they awakened delicious associations of the gardensand peaceful homes of far-distant New England. 

Yet wild as they were, these mountains were thickly peopled. As Iclimbed farther, I found the broad dusty paths made by the elk, asthey filed across the mountainside. The grass on all the terraces wastrampled down by deer; there were numerous tracks of wolves, and insome of the rougher and more precipitous parts of the ascent, I foundfoot-prints different from any that I had ever seen, and which I took tobe those of the Rocky Mountain sheep. I sat down upon a rock; there wasa perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even an insect couldbe heard. I recollected the danger of becoming lost in such a place, and therefore I fixed my eye upon one of the tallest pinnacles of theopposite mountain. It rose sheer upright from the woods below, and by anextraordinary freak of nature sustained aloft on its very summit a largeloose rock. Such a landmark could never be mistaken, and feeling oncemore secure, I began again to move forward. A white wolf jumped upfrom among some bushes, and leaped clumsily away; but he stopped for amoment, and turned back his keen eye and his grim bristling muzzle. Ilonged to take his scalp and carry it back with me, as an appropriatetrophy of the Black Hills, but before I could fire, he was gone amongthe rocks. Soon I heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of twigs ata little distance, and saw moving above the tall bushes the branchingantlers of an elk. I was in the midst of a hunter's paradise. 

Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July; but they wear adifferent garb when winter sets in, when the broad boughs of the firtree are bent to the ground by the load of snow, and the dark mountainsare whitened with it. At that season the mountain-trappers, returnedfrom their autumn expeditions, often build their rude cabins in themidst of these solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on the gamethat harbors there. I have heard them relate, how with their tawnymistresses, and perhaps a few young Indian companions, they have spentmonths in total seclusion. They would dig pitfalls, and set traps forthe white wolves, the sables, and the martens, and though through thewhole night the awful chorus of the wolves would resound from the frozenmountains around them, yet within their massive walls of logs they wouldlie in careless ease and comfort before the blazing fire, and in themorning shoot the elk and the deer from their very door. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A MOUNTAIN HUNT

The camp was full of the newly-cut lodge-poles; some, already prepared, were stacked together, white and glistening, to dry and harden in thesun; others were lying on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and evensome of the warriors were busily at work peeling off the bark and paringthem with their knives to the proper dimensions. Most of the hidesobtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped thin enough for use, and many of the squaws were engaged in fitting them together andsewing them with sinews, to form the coverings for the lodges. Men werewandering among the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of thecamp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the bark of which, mixed with tobacco, they use for smoking. Reynal's squaw was hardat work with her awl and buffalo sinews upon her lodge, while herproprietor, having just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, wassmoking a social pipe along with Raymond and myself. He proposed atlength that we should go out on a hunt. "Go to the Big Crow's lodge, "said he, "and get your rifle. I'll bet the gray Wyandotte pony againstyour mare that we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not, a bighorn, before we are two miles out of camp. I'll take my squaw's oldyellow horse; you can't whip her more than four miles an hour, but sheis as good for the mountains as a mule. "

I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. She was a very fineand powerful animal, gentle and manageable enough by nature; but oflate her temper had been soured by misfortune. About a week before Ihad chanced to offend some one of the Indians, who out of revenge wentsecretly into the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the haunchwith his knife. The wound, though partially healed, still galled herextremely, and made her even more perverse and obstinate than the restof her species. 

The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better health than I hadbeen at any time for the last two months. Though a strong frame and wellcompacted sinews had borne me through hitherto, it was long since I hadbeen in a condition to feel the exhilaration of the fresh mountain windand the gay sunshine that brightened the crags and trees. We left thelittle valley and ascended a rocky hollow in the mountain. Very soon wewere out of sight of the camp, and of every living thing, man, beast, bird, or insect. I had never before, except on foot, passed over suchexecrable ground, and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The blackmule grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow horse stumbledevery moment, and kept groaning to himself as he cut his feet and legsamong the sharp rocks. 

It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was visible exceptbeetling crags and the bare shingly sides of the mountains, relievedby scarcely a trace of vegetation. At length, however, we came upona forest tract, and had no sooner done so than we heartily wishedourselves back among the rocks again; for we were on a steep descent, among trees so thick that we could see scarcely a rod in any direction. 

If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where the hazardousand the ludicrous are combined in about equal proportions, let him getupon a vicious mule, with a snaffle bit, and try to drive her throughthe woods down a slope of 45 degrees. Let him have on a long rifle, abuckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of long hair. These latterappendages will be caught every moment and twitched away in smallportions by the twigs, which will also whip him smartly across the face, while the large branches above thump him on the head. His mule, if shebe a true one, will alternately stop short and dive violently forward, and his position upon her back will be somewhat diversified andextraordinary. At one time he will clasp her affectionately, to avoidthe blow of a bough overhead; at another, he will throw himself backand fling his knee forward against the side of her neck, to keep itfrom being crushed between the rough bark of a tree and the equallyunyielding ribs of the animal herself. Reynal was cursing incessantlyduring the whole way down. Neither of us had the remotest idea where wewere going; and though I have seen rough riding, I shall always retainan evil recollection of that five minutes' scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into the channel ofa brook that circled along the foot of the descent; and here, turningjoyfully to the left, we rode in luxury and ease over the white pebblesand the rippling water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarchinggreen transparency. These halcyon moments were of short duration. Thefriendly brook, turning sharply to one side, went brawling and foamingdown the rocky hill into an abyss, which, as far as we could discern, had no bottom; so once more we betook ourselves to the detested woods. When next we came forth from their dancing shadow and sunlight, we foundourselves standing in the broad glare of day, on a high jutting point ofthe mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide, desert valley, windingaway far amid the mountains. No civilized eye but mine had ever lookedupon that virgin waste. Reynal was gazing intently; he began to speak atlast:

"Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I have been hunting forgold all through the Black Hills. There's plenty of it here; you maybe certain of that. I have dreamed about it fifty times, and I neverdreamed yet but what it came true. Look over yonder at those black rockspiled up against that other big rock. Don't it look as if there mightbe something there? It won't do for a white man to be rummaging too muchabout these mountains; the Indians say they are full of bad spirits; andI believe myself that it's no good luck to be hunting about here aftergold. Well, for all that, I would like to have one of these fellows uphere, from down below, to go about with his witch-hazel rod, and I'llguarantee that it would not be long before he would light on a goldmine. Never mind; we'll let the gold alone for to-day. Look at thosetrees down below us in the hollow; we'll go down there, and I reckonwe'll get a black-tailed deer. "

But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed mountain aftermountain, and valley after valley; we explored deep ravines; yet stillto my companion's vexation and evident surprise, no game could be found. So, in the absence of better, we resolved to go out on the plains andlook for an antelope. With this view we began to pass down a narrowvalley, the bottom of which was covered with the stiff wild-sagebushes and marked with deep paths, made by the buffalo, who, for someinexplicable reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long graveprocessions, deep among the gorges of these sterile mountains. 

Reynal's eye was ranging incessantly among the rocks and along the edgesof the black precipices, in hopes of discovering the mountain sheeppeering down upon us in fancied security from that giddy elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At length we both detected somethingin motion near the foot of one of the mountains, and in a momentafterward a black-tailed deer, with his spreading antlers, stood gazingat us from the top of a rock, and then, slowly turning away, disappearedbehind it. In an instant Reynal was out of his saddle, and runningtoward the spot. I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse andwaiting the result. I lost sight of him, then heard the report of hisrifle, deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him reappear, with asurly look that plainly betrayed his ill success. Again we moved forwarddown the long valley, when soon after we came full upon what seemed awide and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom with white clay, dried and cracked in the sun. Under this fair outside, Reynal's eyedetected the signs of lurking mischief. He called me to stop, and thenalighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the ditch. To my utteramazement it fell with a dull splash, breaking at once through the thincrust, and spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy fluid, intowhich it sank and disappeared. A stick, five or six feet long lay on theground, and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its edge. It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places like this are numerousamong the Rocky Mountains. The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges into them unawares. Down he sinks; one snort of terror, one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly flows above his shaggyhead, the languid undulations of its sleek and placid surface alonebetraying how the powerful monster writhes in his death-throes below. 

We found after some trouble a point where we could pass the abyss, andnow the valley began to open upon the plains which spread to the horizonbefore us. On one of their distant swells we discerned three or fourblack specks, which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo. 

"Come, " said he, "we must get one of them. My squaw wants more sinews tofinish her lodge with, and I want some glue myself. "

He immediately put the yellow horse at such a gallop as he was capableof executing, while I set spurs to the mule, who soon far outran herplebeian rival. When we had galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill luck, sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who boundedviolently aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forciblyto the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went off with ashock. Its sharp spiteful report rang for some moments in my ear. Beingslightly stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, supposingme to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule. Soon recoveringmyself, I rose, picked up the rifle and anxiously examined it. It wasbadly injured. The stock was cracked, and the main screw broken, so thatthe lock had to be tied in its place with a string; yet happily it wasnot rendered totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, reloaded it, andhanding it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led her upto me, I mounted again. No sooner had I done so, than the brute began torear and plunge with extreme violence; but being now well prepared forher, and free from incumbrance, I soon reduced her to submission. Thentaking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as before. 

We were now free of the mountain and riding far out on the broadprairie. The buffalo were still some two miles in advance of us. When wecame near them, we stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealedus from their view, and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward withhis rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground. A fewminutes elapsed; I heard the report of his piece, and saw the buffalorunning away at full speed on the right, and immediately after, thehunter himself unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted his horse inexcessive ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo, sworethat he was a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had neverbeen out before among those mountains without killing two or three deerat least. 

We now turned toward the distant encampment. As we rode along, antelopein considerable numbers were flying lightly in all directions over theplain, but not one of them would stand and be shot at. When we reachedthe foot of the mountain ridge that lay between us and the village, wewere too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route; so turningshort to the left, we drove our wearied animals directly upward amongthe rocks. Still more antelope were leaping about among these flintyhillsides. Each of us shot at one, though from a great distance, andeach missed his mark. At length we reached the summit of the last ridge. Looking down, we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, andingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the lodges, the Indianslooked in vain for the fresh meat that should have hung behind oursaddles, and the squaws uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to thegreat indignation of Reynal. Our mortification was increased whenwe rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian relative, theHail-Storm, his light graceful figure on the ground in an easy attitude, while with his friend the Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making anabundant meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which the squaw had placedbetween them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, which he hadjust killed among the mountains, only a mile or two from the camp. Nodoubt the boy's heart was elated with triumph, but he betrayed no signof it. He even seemed totally unconscious of our approach, and hishandsome face had all the tranquillity of Indian self-control;a self-control which prevents the exhibition of emotion, withoutrestraining the emotion itself. It was about two months since I hadknown the Hail-Storm, and within that time his character had remarkablydeveloped. When I first saw him, he was just emerging from the habitsand feelings of the boy into the ambition of the hunter and warrior. Hehad lately killed his first deer, and this had excited his aspirationsafter distinction. Since that time he had been continually in searchof game, and no young hunter in the village had been so active orso fortunate as he. It will perhaps be remembered how fearlessly heattacked the buffalo bull, as we were moving toward our camp at theMedicine-Bow Mountain. All this success had produced a marked change inhis character. As I first remembered him he always shunned the societyof the young squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish in theirpresence; but now, in the confidence of his own reputation, he beganto assume the airs and the arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his redblanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his cheeks every daywith vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in his ears. If I observedaright, he met with very good success in his new pursuits; still theHail-Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the full standingof a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women andgirls, he still was timid and abashed in the presence of the chiefs andold men; for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead body ofan enemy in battle. I have no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced boyburned with keen desire to flash his maiden scalping-knife, and I wouldnot have encamped alone with him without watching his movements with adistrustful eye. 

His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different character. He wasnothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very well how to hunt, but preferredto live by the hunting of others. He had no appetite for distinction, and the Hail-Storm, though a few years younger than he, alreadysurpassed him in reputation. He had a dark and ugly face, and hepassed a great part of his time in adorning it with vermilion, andcontemplating it by means of a little pocket looking-glass which Igave him. As for the rest of the day, he divided it between eating andsleeping, and sitting in the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here hewould remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, with an olddragoon's sword in his hand, and evidently flattering himself that hewas the center of attraction to the eyes of the surrounding squaws. Yethe sat looking straight forward with a face of the utmost gravity, asif wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only by the occasionalsidelong glances which he shot at his supposed admirers that one coulddetect the true course of his thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent a class in the Indian community;neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, the Rabbit, be passed by withoutnotice. The Hail-Storm and he were inseparable; they ate, slept, andhunted together, and shared with one another almost all that theypossessed. If there be anything that deserves to be called romanticin the Indian character, it is to be sought for in friendships such asthis, which are quite common among many of the prairie tribes. 

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged away. I lay inReynal's lodge, overcome by the listless torpor that pervaded thewhole encampment. The day's work was finished, or if it were not, theinhabitants had resolved not to finish it at all, and all were dozingquietly within the shelter of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the veryspirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. Now and thenI could hear the low laughter of some girl from within a neighboringlodge, or the small shrill voices of a few restless children, who alonewere moving in the deserted area. The spirit of the place infected me;I could not even think consecutively; I was fit only for musing andreverie, when at last, like the rest, I fell asleep. 

When evening came and the fires were lighted round the lodges, a selectfamily circle convened in the neighborhood of Reynal's domicile. It wascomposed entirely of his squaw's relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among whom none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of futuredistinction. Even his protests were rendered not a little dubious by thecharacter of the family, less however from any principle of aristocraticdistinction than from the want of powerful supporters to assist him inhis undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. Raymond and I satdown along with them. There were eight or ten men gathered around thefire, together with about as many women, old and young, some of whomwere tolerably good-looking. As the pipe passed round among the men, a lively conversation went forward, more merry than delicate, and atlength two or three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhatdiffident and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various pungentwitticisms. Some of the men took part and an old squaw concludedby bestowing on him a ludicrous nick name, at which a general laughfollowed at his expense. Raymond grinned and giggled, and made severalfutile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy and even danger ofsuffering myself to be placed in a ludicrous light among the Indians, I maintained a rigid inflexible countenance, and wholly escaped theirsallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the camp was to retainits position for another day. I dreaded its languor and monotony, andto escape it, I set out to explore the surrounding mountains. I wasaccompanied by a faithful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed onwhose prompt assistance in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. Mostof the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good-will towardthe whites, but the experience of others and my own observation hadtaught me the extreme folly of confidence, and the utter impossibilityof foreseeing to what sudden acts the strange unbridled impulses of anIndian may urge him. When among this people danger is never so near aswhen you are unprepared for it, never so remote as when you are armedand on the alert to meet it any moment. Nothing offers so strong atemptation to their ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity, weakness, or security. 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and bushes, opened fromthe sides of the hills, which were shaggy with forests wherever therocks permitted vegetation to spring. A great number of Indians werestalking along the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping andlaughing on the mountain-sides, practicing eye and hand, and indulgingtheir destructive propensities by following birds and small animalsand killing them with their little bows and arrows. There was one glen, stretching up between steep cliffs far into the bosom of the mountain. Ibegan to ascend along its bottom, pushing my way onward among the rocks, trees, and bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread of water trickledalong its center, which since issuing from the heart of its native rockcould scarcely have been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. Afteradvancing for some time, I conceived myself to be entirely alone;but coming to a part of the glen in a great measure free of trees andundergrowth, I saw at some distance the black head and red shoulders ofan Indian among the bushes above. The reader need not prepare himselffor a startling adventure, for I have none to relate. The head andshoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best friend in the village. AsI had approached noiselessly with my moccasined feet, the old man wasquite unconscious of my presence; and turning to a point where I couldgain an unobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, immovable asa statue, among the rocks and trees. His face was turned upward, andhis eyes seemed riveted on a pine tree springing from a cleft in theprecipice above. The crest of the pine was swaying to and fro in thewind, and its long limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree hadlife. Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied that he wasengaged in an act of worship or prayer, or communion of some kind witha supernatural being. I longed to penetrate his thoughts, but I coulddo nothing more than conjecture and speculate. I knew that though theintellect of an Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-powerfulSpirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, yet his mind will not alwaysascend into communion with a being that seems to him so vast, remote, and incomprehensible; and when danger threatens, when his hopes arebroken, when the black wing of sorrow overshadows him, he is prone toturn for relief to some inferior agency, less removed from the ordinaryscope of his faculties. He has a guardian spirit, on whom he reliesfor succor and guidance. To him all nature is instinct with mysticinfluence. Among those mountains not a wild beast was prowling, a birdsinging, or a leaf fluttering, that might not tend to direct his destinyor give warning of what was in store for him; and he watches the worldof nature around him as the astrologer watches the stars. So closely ishe linked with it that his guardian spirit, no unsubstantial creation ofthe fancy, is usually embodied in the form of some living thing--a bear, a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent; and Mene-Seela, as he gazed intently onthe old pine tree, might believe it to inshrine the fancied guide andprotector of his life. 

Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it was no part ofsense or of delicacy to disturb him. Silently retracing my footsteps, Idescended the glen until I came to a point where I could climb the steepprecipices that shut it in, and gain the side of the mountain. Lookingup, I saw a tall peak rising among the woods. Something impelled me toclimb; I had not felt for many a day such strength and elasticity oflimb. An hour and a half of slow and often intermittent labor brought meto the very summit; and emerging from the dark shadows of the rocks andpines, I stepped forth into the light, and walking along the sunny vergeof a precipice, seated myself on its extreme point. Looking between themountain peaks to the westward, the pale blue prairie was stretching tothe farthest horizon like a serene and tranquil ocean. The surroundingmountains were in themselves sufficiently striking and impressive, butthis contrast gave redoubled effect to their stern features. 

CHAPTER XIX

PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS

When I took leave of Shaw at La Bonte's Camp, I promised that I wouldmeet him at Fort Laramie on the 1st of August. That day, according to myreckoning, was now close at hand. It was impossible, at best, to fulfillmy engagement exactly, and my meeting with him must have been postponeduntil many days after the appointed time, had not the plans of theIndians very well coincided with my own. They too, intended to passthe mountains and move toward the fort. To do so at this point wasimpossible, because there was no opening; and in order to find a passagewe were obliged to go twelve or fourteen miles southward. Late in theafternoon the camp got in motion, defiling back through the mountainsalong the same narrow passage by which they had entered. I rode incompany with three or four young Indians at the rear, and the movingswarm stretched before me, in the ruddy light of sunset, or in the deepshadow of the mountains far beyond my sight. It was an ill-omened spotthey chose to encamp upon. When they were there just a year before, awar party of ten men, led by The Whirlwind's son, had gone out againstthe enemy, and not one had ever returned. This was the immediate causeof this season's warlike preparations. I was not a little astonishedwhen I came to the camp, at the confusion of horrible sounds with whichit was filled; howls, shrieks, and wailings were heard from all thewomen present, many of whom not content with this exhibition of grieffor the loss of their friends and relatives, were gashing their legsdeeply with knives. A warrior in the village, who had lost a brotherin the expedition; chose another mode of displaying his sorrow. TheIndians, who, though often rapacious, are utterly devoid of avarice, areaccustomed in times of mourning, or on other solemn occasions, to giveaway the whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves to nakednessand want. The warrior in question led his two best horses into thecenter of the village, and gave them away to his friends; upon whichsongs and acclamations in praise of his generosity mingled with thecries of the women. 

On the next morning we entered once more among the mountains. There wasnothing in their appearance either grand or picturesque, though theywere desolate to the last degree, being mere piles of black and brokenrocks, without trees or vegetation of any kind. As we passed among themalong a wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by the side of a youngersquaw, to whom he was addressing various insinuating compliments. Allthe old squaws in the neighborhood watched his proceedings in greatadmiration, and the girl herself would turn aside her head and laugh. Just then the old mule thought proper to display her vicious pranks; shebegan to rear and plunge most furiously. Raymond was an excellent rider, and at first he stuck fast in his seat; but the moment after, I sawthe mule's hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my unlucky followerpitching head foremost over her ears. There was a burst of screams andlaughter from all the women, in which his mistress herself took part, and Raymond was instantly assailed by such a shower of witticisms, thathe was glad to ride forward out of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shouting to me. He waspointing toward a detached rocky hill that stood in the middle of thevalley before us, and from behind it a long file of elk came out atfull speed and entered an opening in the side of the mountain. They hadscarcely disappeared when whoops and exclamations came from fifty voicesaround me. The young men leaped from their horses, flung down theirheavy buffalo robes, and ran at full speed toward the foot of thenearest mountain. Reynal also broke away at a gallop in the samedirection, "Come on! come on!" he called to us. "Do you see that band ofbighorn up yonder? If there's one of them, there's a hundred!"

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see a large number ofsmall white objects, moving rapidly upward among the precipices, whileothers were filing along its rocky profile. Anxious to see the sport, I galloped forward, and entering a passage in the side of the mountain, ascended the loose rocks as far as my horse could carry me. Here Ifastened her to an old pine tree that stood alone, scorching in the sun. At that moment Raymond called to me from the right that another band ofsheep was close at hand in that direction. I ran up to the top of theopening, which gave me a full view into the rocky gorge beyond; andhere I plainly saw some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within rifle-shot, clattering upward among the rocks, and endeavoring, after their usualcustom, to reach the highest point. The naked Indians bounded up lightlyin pursuit. In a moment the game and hunters disappeared. Nothing couldbe seen or heard but the occasional report of a gun, more and moredistant, reverberating among the rocks. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so I could see the valley below alivewith Indians passing rapidly through it, on horseback and on foot. A little farther on, all were stopping as they came up; the camp waspreparing, and the lodges rising. I descended to this spot, and soonafter Reynal and Raymond returned. They bore between them a sheep whichthey had pelted to death with stones from the edge of a ravine, alongthe bottom of which it was attempting to escape. One by one the hunterscame dropping in; yet such is the activity of the Rocky Mountain sheepthat, although sixty or seventy men were out in pursuit, not more thanhalf a dozen animals were killed. Of these only one was a full-grownmale. He had a pair of horns twisted like a ram's, the dimensions ofwhich were almost beyond belief. I have seen among the Indians ladleswith long handles, capable of containing more than a quart, cut fromsuch horns. 

There is something peculiarly interesting in the character and habitsof the mountain sheep, whose chosen retreats are above the region ofvegetation and storms, and who leap among the giddy precipices of theiraerial home as actively as the antelope skims over the prairies below. 

Through the whole of the next morning we were moving forward, amongthe hills. On the following day the heights gathered around us, and thepassage of the mountains began in earnest. Before the village left itscamping ground, I set forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, a manof powerful frame, but of bad and sinister face. His son, a light-limbedboy, rode with us, and another Indian, named the Panther, was also ofthe party. Leaving the village out of sight behind us, we rode togetherup a rocky defile. After a while, however, the Eagle-Feather discoveredin the distance some appearance of game, and set off with his son inpursuit of it, while I went forward with the Panther. This was a mereNOM DE GUERRE; for, like many Indians, he concealed his real name outof some superstitious notion. He was a very noble looking fellow. As hesuffered his ornamented buffalo robe to fall into folds about his loins, his stately and graceful figure was fully displayed; and while he sathis horse in an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie cockfluttering from the crown of his head, he seemed the very model ofa wild prairie-rider. He had not the same features as those of otherIndians. Unless his handsome face greatly belied him, he was free fromthe jealousy, suspicion, and malignant cunning of his people. For themost part, a civilized white man can discover but very few pointsof sympathy between his own nature and that of an Indian. With everydisposition to do justice to their good qualities, he must be consciousthat an impassable gulf lies between him and his red brethren of theprairie. Nay, so alien to himself do they appear that, having breathedfor a few months or a few weeks the air of this region, he begins tolook upon them as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild beast, and, if expedient, he could shoot them with as little compunction asthey themselves would experience after performing the same office uponhim. Yet, in the countenance of the Panther, I gladly read that therewere at least some points of sympathy between him and me. We wereexcellent friends, and as we rode forward together through rockypassages, deep dells, and little barren plains, he occupied himself veryzealously in teaching me the Dakota language. After a while, we came toa little grassy recess, where some gooseberry bushes were growing at thefoot of a rock; and these offered such temptation to my companion, thathe gave over his instruction, and stopped so long to gather the fruitthat before we were in motion again the van of the village came inview. An old woman appeared, leading down her pack horse among therocks above. Savage after savage followed, and the little dell was sooncrowded with the throng. 

That morning's march was one not easily to be forgotten. It led usthrough a sublime waste, a wilderness of mountains and pine forests, over which the spirit of loneliness and silence seemed brooding. Aboveand below little could be seen but the same dark green foliage. Itoverspread the valleys, and the mountains were clothed with it from theblack rocks that crowned their summits to the impetuous streams thatcircled round their base. Scenery like this, it might seem, could haveno very cheering effect on the mind of a sick man (for to-day my diseasehad again assailed me) in the midst of a horde of savages; but if thereader has ever wandered, with a true hunter's spirit, among the forestsof Maine, or the more picturesque solitudes of the Adirondack Mountains, he will understand how the somber woods and mountains around me mighthave awakened any other feelings than those of gloom. In truth theyrecalled gladdening recollections of similar scenes in a distant and fardifferent land. After we had been advancing for several hours throughpassages always narrow, often obstructed and difficult, I saw at alittle distance on our right a narrow opening between two high woodedprecipices. All within seemed darkness and mystery. In the mood in whichI found myself something strongly impelled me to enter. Passing over theintervening space I guided my horse through the rocky portal, and asI did so instinctively drew the covering from my rifle, half expectingthat some unknown evil lay in ambush within those dreary recesses. Theplace was shut in among tall cliffs, and so deeply shadowed by a hostof old pine trees that, though the sun shone bright on the side of themountain, nothing but a dim twilight could penetrate within. As far asI could see it had no tenants except a few hawks and owls, who, dismayedat my intrusion, flapped hoarsely away among the shaggy branches. Imoved forward, determined to explore the mystery to the bottom, and soonbecame involved among the pines. The genius of the place exerciseda strange influence upon my mind. Its faculties were stimulated intoextraordinary activity, and as I passed along many half-forgottenincidents, and the images of persons and things far distant, roserapidly before me with surprising distinctness. In that perilouswilderness, eight hundred miles removed beyond the faintest vestigeof civilization, the scenes of another hemisphere, the seat of ancientrefinement, passed before me more like a succession of vivid paintingsthan any mere dreams of the fancy. I saw the church of St. Peter'sillumined on the evening of Easter Day, the whole majestic pile, fromthe cross to the foundation stone, penciled in fire and shedding aradiance, like the serene light of the moon, on the sea of upturnedfaces below. I saw the peak of Mount Etna towering above its inky mantleof clouds and lightly curling its wreaths of milk-white smoke againstthe soft sky flushed with the Sicilian sunset. I saw also the gloomyvaulted passages and the narrow cells of the Passionist convent whereI once had sojourned for a few days with the fanatical monks, its pale, stern inmates in their robes of black, and the grated window from whenceI could look out, a forbidden indulgence, upon the melancholy Coliseumand the crumbling ruins of the Eternal City. The mighty glaciers of theSplugen too rose before me, gleaming in the sun like polished silver, and those terrible solitudes, the birthplace of the Rhine, wherebursting from the bowels of its native mountains, it lashes andfoams down the rocky abyss into the little valley of Andeer. Theserecollections, and many more, crowded upon me, until remembering thatit was hardly wise to remain long in such a place, I mounted againand retraced my steps. Issuing from between the rocks I saw a few rodsbefore me the men, women, and children, dogs and horses, still filingslowly across the little glen. A bare round hill rose directly abovethem. I rode to the top, and from this point I could look down on thesavage procession as it passed just beneath my feet, and far on theleft I could see its thin and broken line, visible only at intervals, stretching away for miles among the mountains. On the farthest ridgehorsemen were still descending like mere specks in the distance. 

I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then, descending, followed after them. A little farther on I found a very small meadow, set deeply among steep mountains; and here the whole village hadencamped. The little spot was crowded with the confused and disorderlyhost. Some of the lodges were already completely prepared, or the squawsperhaps were busy in drawing the heavy coverings of skin over the barepoles. Others were as yet mere skeletons, while others still--poles, covering, and all--lay scattered in complete disorder on the groundamong buffalo robes, bales of meat, domestic utensils, harness, andweapons. Squaws were screaming to one another, horses rearing andplunging dogs yelping, eager to be disburdened of their loads, whilethe fluttering of feathers and the gleam of barbaric ornaments addedliveliness to the scene. The small children ran about amid the crowd, while many of the boys were scrambling among the overhanging rocks, andstanding, with their little bows in their hands, looking down upon arestless throng. In contrast with the general confusion, a circle of oldmen and warriors sat in the midst, smoking in profound indifference andtranquillity. The disorder at length subsided. The horses were drivenaway to feed along the adjacent valley, and the camp assumed an air oflistless repose. It was scarcely past noon; a vast white canopy of smokefrom a burning forest to the eastward overhung the place, and partiallyobscured the sun; yet the heat was almost insupportable. The lodgesstood crowded together without order in the narrow space. Each was aperfect hothouse, within which the lazy proprietor lay sleeping. Thecamp was silent as death. Nothing stirred except now and then an oldwoman passing from lodge to lodge. The girls and young men sat togetherin groups under the pine trees upon the surrounding heights. The dogslay panting on the ground, too lazy even to growl at the white man. At the entrance of the meadow there was a cold spring among the rocks, completely overshadowed by tall trees and dense undergrowth. In thiscold and shady retreat a number of girls were assembled, sittingtogether on rocks and fallen logs, discussing the latest gossip ofthe village, or laughing and throwing water with their hands at theintruding Meneaska. The minutes seemed lengthened into hours. I layfor a long time under a tree, studying the Ogallalla tongue, with thezealous instructions of my friend the Panther. When we were both tiredof this I went and lay down by the side of a deep, clear pool formedby the water of the spring. A shoal of little fishes of about a pin'slength were playing in it, sporting together, as it seemed, veryamicably; but on closer observation, I saw that they were engaged in acannibal warfare among themselves. Now and then a small one would falla victim, and immediately disappear down the maw of his voraciousconqueror. Every moment, however, the tyrant of the pool, a monsterabout three inches long, with staring goggle eyes, would slowly issueforth with quivering fins and tail from under the shelving bank. Thesmall fry at this would suspend their hostilities, and scatter in apanic at the appearance of overwhelming force. 

"Soft-hearted philanthropists, " thought I, "may sigh long for theirpeaceful millennium; for from minnows up to men, life is an incessantbattle. "

Evening approached at last, the tall mountain-tops around were still gayand bright in sunshine, while our deep glen was completely shadowed. I left the camp and ascended a neighboring hill, whose rocky summitcommanded a wide view over the surrounding wilderness. The sun was stillglaring through the stiff pines on the ridge of the western mountain. In a moment he was gone, and as the landscape rapidly darkened, I turnedagain toward the village. As I descended the hill, the howling of wolvesand the barking of foxes came up out of the dim woods from far and near. The camp was glowing with a multitude of fires, and alive with duskynaked figures, whose tall shadows flitted among the surroundings crags. 

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place; that is, on theground before the lodge of a certain warrior, who seemed to be generallyknown for his social qualities. I sat down to smoke a parting pipewith my savage friends. That day was the 1st of August, on which I hadpromised to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. The Fort was less than twodays' journey distant, and that my friend need not suffer anxiety on myaccount, I resolved to push forward as rapidly as possible to the placeof meeting. I went to look after the Hail-Storm, and having found him, I offered him a handful of hawks'-bells and a paper of vermilion, oncondition that he would guide me in the morning through the mountainswithin sight of Laramie Creek. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated "How!" and accepted the gift. Nothing more wassaid on either side; the matter was settled, and I lay down to sleep inKongra-Tonga's lodge. 

Long before daylight Raymond shook me by the shoulder. 

"Everything is ready, " he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark; and the whole campseemed asleep. The Hail-Storm sat on horseback before the lodge, and mymare Pauline and the mule which Raymond rode were picketed near it. We saddled and made our other arrangements for the journey, but beforethese were completed the camp began to stir, and the lodge-coveringsfluttered and rustled as the squaws pulled them down in preparation fordeparture. Just as the light began to appear we left the ground, passingup through a narrow opening among the rocks which led eastward out ofthe meadow. Gaining the top of this passage, I turned round and satlooking back upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray light of themorning. All was alive with the bustle of preparation. I turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave of my savage associates. We turnedto the right, passing among the rocks and pine trees so dark that for awhile we could scarcely see our way. The country in front was wild andbroken, half hill, half plain, partly open and partly covered with woodsof pine and oak. Barriers of lofty mountains encompassed it; the woodswere fresh and cool in the early morning; the peaks of the mountainswere wreathed with mist, and sluggish vapors were entangled among theforests upon their sides. At length the black pinnacle of the tallestmountain was tipped with gold by the rising sun. About that time theHail-Storm, who rode in front gave a low exclamation. Some large animalleaped up from among the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his hornsthrown back over his neck, darted past us across the open space, andbounded like a mad thing away among the adjoining pines. Raymond wassoon out of his saddle, but before he could fire, the animal was fulltwo hundred yards distant. The ball struck its mark, though much too lowfor mortal effect. The elk, however, wheeled in its flight, and ran atfull speed among the trees, nearly at right angles to his former course. I fired and broke his shoulder; still he moved on, limping down into theneighboring woody hollow, whither the young Indian followed and killedhim. When we reached the spot we discovered him to be no elk, but ablack-tailed deer, an animal nearly twice the size of the common deer, and quite unknown to the East. We began to cut him up; the reports ofthe rifles had reached the ears of the Indians, and before our task wasfinished several of them came to the spot. Leaving the hide of the deerto the Hail-Storm, we hung as much of the meat as we wanted behindour saddles, left the rest to the Indians, and resumed our journey. Meanwhile the village was on its way, and had gone so far that to get inadvance of it was impossible. Therefore we directed our course so as tostrike its line of march at the nearest point. In a short time, throughthe dark trunks of the pines, we could see the figures of the Indiansas they passed. Once more we were among them. They were moving with evenmore than their usual precipitation, crowded close together in a narrowpass between rocks and old pine trees. We were on the eastern descentof the mountain, and soon came to a rough and difficult defile, leadingdown a very steep declivity. The whole swarm poured down together, filling the rocky passageway like some turbulent mountain stream. Themountains before us were on fire, and had been so for weeks. The view infront was obscured by a vast dim sea of smoke and vapor, while on eitherhand the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their crest of pines, thrust theirheads boldly through it, and the sharp pinnacles and broken ridges ofthe mountains beyond them were faintly traceable as through a veil. The scene in itself was most grand and imposing, but with the savagemultitude, the armed warriors, the naked children, the gayly appareledgirls, pouring impetuously down the heights, it would have formed anoble subject for a painter, and only the pen of a Scott could have doneit justice in description. 

We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was hot beneath thehorses' feet, and between the blazing sides of two mountains. Beforelong we had descended to a softer region, where we found a successionof little valleys watered by a stream, along the borders of which grewabundance of wild gooseberries and currants, and the children and manyof the men straggled from the line of march to gather them as we passedalong. Descending still farther, the view changed rapidly. The burningmountains were behind us, and through the open valleys in front we couldsee the ocean-like prairie, stretching beyond the sight. After passingthrough a line of trees that skirted the brook, the Indians filed outupon the plains. I was thirsty and knelt down by the little stream todrink. As I mounted again I very carelessly left my rifle among thegrass, and my thoughts being otherwise absorbed, I rode for somedistance before discovering its absence. As the reader may conceive, I lost no time in turning about and galloping back in search of it. Passing the line of Indians, I watched every warrior as he rode by me ata canter, and at length discovered my rifle in the hands of one of them, who, on my approaching to claim it, immediately gave it up. Having noother means of acknowledging the obligation, I took off one of my spursand gave it to him. He was greatly delighted, looking upon it as adistinguished mark of favor, and immediately held out his foot for me tobuckle it on. As soon as I had done so, he struck it with force intothe side of his horse, who gave a violent leap. The Indian laughed andspurred harder than before. At this the horse shot away like an arrow, amid the screams and laughter of the squaws, and the ejaculations of themen, who exclaimed: "Washtay!--Good!" at the potent effect of my gift. The Indian had no saddle, and nothing in place of a bridle except aleather string tied round the horse's jaw. The animal was of coursewholly uncontrollable, and stretched away at full speed over theprairie, till he and his rider vanished behind a distant swell. I neversaw the man again, but I presume no harm came to him. An Indian onhorseback has more lives than a cat. 

The village encamped on a scorching prairie, close to the foot of themountains. The beat was most intense and penetrating. The coveringsof the lodges were raised a foot or more from the ground, in order toprocure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought proper to lay asidehis trapper's dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty costume of anIndian. Thus elegantly attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on abuffalo robe, alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe whichhe and I passed between us. There was present also a select circle ofIndian friends and relatives. A small boiled puppy was served up as aparting feast, to which was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl ofgooseberries, from the mountains. 

"Look there, " said Reynal, pointing out of the opening of his lodge; "doyou see that line of buttes about fifteen miles off? Well, now, do yousee that farthest one, with the white speck on the face of it? Do youthink you ever saw it before?"

"It looks to me, " said I, "like the hill that we were camped under whenwe were on Laramie Creek, six or eight weeks ago. "

"You've hit it, " answered Reynal. 

"Go and bring in the animals, Raymond, " said I: "we'll camp thereto-night, and start for the Fort in the morning. "

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. We saddled them, andin the meantime a number of Indians collected about us. The virtues ofPauline, my strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well known incamp, and several of the visitors were mounted upon good horses whichthey had brought me as presents. I promptly declined their offers, sinceaccepting them would have involved the necessity of transferring poorPauline into their barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal, but notof the Indians, who are accustomed to dispense with such superfluousceremonies. Leaving the camp we rode straight over the prairie towardthe white-faced bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently against thehorizon, like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name I forget, though the ugliness of his face and the ghastly width of his mouth dwellvividly in my recollection. The antelope were numerous, but we did notheed them. We rode directly toward our destination, over the arid plainsand barren hills, until, late in the afternoon, half spent with heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening sight; the long line of treesand the deep gulf that mark the course of Laramie Creek. Passing throughthe growth of huge dilapidated old cottonwood trees that bordered thecreek, we rode across to the other side. 

The rapid and foaming waters were filled with fish playing and splashingin the shallows. As we gained the farther bank, our horses turnedeagerly to drink, and we, kneeling on the sand, followed their example. We had not gone far before the scene began to grow familiar. 

"We are getting near home, Raymond, " said I. 

There stood the Big Tree under which we had encamped so long; there werethe white cliffs that used to look down upon our tent when it stoodat the bend of the creek; there was the meadow in which our horses hadgrazed for weeks, and a little farther on, the prairie-dog villagewhere I had beguiled many a languid hour in persecuting the unfortunateinhabitants. 

"We are going to catch it now, " said Raymond, turning his broad, vacantface up toward the sky. 

In truth, the landscape, the cliffs and the meadow, the stream and thegroves were darkening fast. Black masses of cloud were swelling up inthe south, and the thunder was growling ominously. 

"We will camp here, " I said, pointing to a dense grove of trees lowerdown the stream. Raymond and I turned toward it, but the Indian stoppedand called earnestly after us. When we demanded what was the matter, hesaid that the ghosts of two warriors were always among those trees, andthat if we slept there, they would scream and throw stones at us allnight, and perhaps steal our horses before morning. Thinking it as wellto humor him, we left behind us the haunt of these extraordinary ghosts, and passed on toward Chugwater, riding at full gallop, for the big dropsbegan to patter down. Soon we came in sight of the poplar saplings thatgrew about the mouth of the little stream. We leaped to the ground, threw off our saddles, turned our horses loose, and drawing our knives, began to slash among the bushes to cut twigs and branches for making ashelter against the rain. Bending down the taller saplings as theygrew, we piled the young shoots upon them; and thus made a convenientpenthouse, but all our labor was useless. The storm scarcely touched us. Half a mile on our right the rain was pouring down like a cataract, andthe thunder roared over the prairie like a battery of cannon; while weby good fortune received only a few heavy drops from the skirt of thepassing cloud. The weather cleared and the sun set gloriously. Sittingclose under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to discuss a substantial mealof wasna which Weah-Washtay had given me. The Indian had brought withhim his pipe and a bag of shongsasha; so before lying down to sleep, we sat for some time smoking together. Previously, however, ourwide-mouthed friend had taken the precaution of carefully examining theneighborhood. He reported that eight men, counting them on his fingers, had been encamped there not long before. Bisonette, Paul Dorion, AntoineLe Rouge, Richardson, and four others, whose names he could not tell. All this proved strictly correct. By what instinct he had arrived atsuch accurate conclusions, I am utterly at a loss to divine. 

It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Raymond. The Indian wasalready gone, having chosen to go on before us to the Fort. Setting outafter him, we rode for some time in complete darkness, and when the sunat length rose, glowing like a fiery ball of copper, we were ten milesdistant from the Fort. At length, from the broken summit of a tall sandybluff we could see Fort Laramie, miles before us, standing by the sideof the stream like a little gray speck in the midst of the boundingdesolation. I stopped my horse, and sat for a moment looking down uponit. It seemed to me the very center of comfort and civilization. We werenot long in approaching it, for we rode at speed the greater part of theway. Laramie Creek still intervened between us and the friendly walls. Entering the water at the point where we had struck upon the bank, weraised our feet to the saddle behind us, and thus, kneeling as it wereon horseback, passed dry-shod through the swift current. As we rode upthe bank, a number of men appeared in the gateway. Three of them cameforward to meet us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw; Henry Chatillonfollowed with his face of manly simplicity and frankness, and Deloriercame last, with a broad grin of welcome. The meeting was not on eitherside one of mere ceremony. For my own part, the change was a mostagreeable one from the society of savages and men little better thansavages, to that of my gallant and high-minded companion and ournoble-hearted guide. My appearance was equally gratifying to Shaw, whowas beginning to entertain some very uncomfortable surmises concerningme. 

Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted to the cook. Thisfunctionary was a new acquisition, having lately come from Fort Pierrewith the trading wagons. Whatever skill he might have boasted, he hadnot the most promising materials to exercise it upon. He set before me, however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed like anew phase of existence, to be seated once more on a bench, with a knifeand fork, a plate and teacup, and something resembling a table beforeme. The coffee seemed delicious, and the bread was a most welcomenovelty, since for three weeks I had eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that for the most part without salt. The meal also had the relish ofgood company, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. If oneis anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value of a congenial companion, he has only to spend a few weeks by himself in an Ogallalla village. Andif he can contrive to add to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhatcritical illness, his perceptions upon this subject will be renderedconsiderably more vivid. 

Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the Fort. I found him establishedin his old quarters, a large apartment usually occupied by the absentbourgeois. In one corner was a soft and luxuriant pile of excellentbuffalo robes, and here I lay down. Shaw brought me three books. 

"Here, " said he, "is your Shakespeare and Byron, and here is theOld Testament, which has as much poetry in it as the other two puttogether. "

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of that daylay on the buffalo robes, fairly reveling in the creations of thatresplendent genius which has achieved no more signal triumph than thatof half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and unmanly character of itspossessor. 

CHAPTER XX

THE LONELY JOURNEY

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I were lounging ontwo buffalo robes in the large apartment hospitably assigned to us;Henry Chatillon also was present, busy about the harness and weapons, which had been brought into the room, and two or three Indians werecrouching on the floor, eyeing us with their fixed, unwavering gaze. 

"I have been well off here, " said Shaw, "in all respects but one; thereis no good shongsasha to be had for love or money. "

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excellent quality, which I had brought from the Black Hills. 

"Now, Henry, " said he, "hand me Papin's chopping-board, or give it tothat Indian, and let him cut the mixture; they understand it better thanany white man. "

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and the tobacco in dueproportions, filled the pipe and lighted it. This done, my companionand I proceeded to deliberate on our future course of proceeding; first, however, Shaw acquainted me with some incidents which had occurred atthe fort during my absence. 

About a week previous four men had arrived from beyond the mountains;Sublette, Reddick, and two others. Just before reaching the Fortthey had met a large party of Indians, chiefly young men. All of thembelonged to the village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his wholeband of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for the whites. Thetravelers therefore approached, and began to converse without the leastsuspicion. Suddenly, however, their bridles were violently seized andthey were ordered to dismount. Instead of complying, they strucktheir horses with full force, and broke away from the Indians. Asthey galloped off they heard a yell behind them, mixed with a burst ofderisive laughter, and the reports of several guns. None of them werehurt though Reddick's bridle rein was cut by a bullet within an inch ofhis hand. After this taste of Indian hostility they felt for the momentno disposition to encounter further risks. They intended to pursue theroute southward along the foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort; and asour plans coincided with theirs, they proposed to join forces. Finding, however, that I did not return, they grew impatient of inaction, forgottheir late escape, and set out without us, promising to wait our arrivalat Bent's Fort. From thence we were to make the long journey to thesettlements in company, as the path was not a little dangerous, beinginfested by hostile Pawnees and Comanches. 

We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there still anotherre-enforcement. A young Kentuckian of the true Kentucky blood, generous, impetuous, and a gentleman withal, had come out to the mountains withRussel's party of California emigrants. One of his chief objects, ashe gave out, was to kill an Indian; an exploit which he afterwardssucceeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy of ourselves and others whohad to pass through the country of the dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. Having become disgusted with his emigrant associates he left them, andhad some time before set out with a party of companions for the head ofthe Arkansas. He sent us previously a letter, intimating that he wouldwait until we arrived at Bent's Fort, and accompany us thence to thesettlements. When, however, he came to the Fort, he found there a partyof forty men about to make the homeward journey. He wisely preferred toavail himself of so strong an escort. Mr. Sublette and his companionsalso set out, in order to overtake this company; so that on reachingBent's Fort, some six weeks after, we found ourselves deserted by ourallies and thrown once more upon our own resources. 

But I am anticipating. When, before leaving the settlement we had madeinquiries concerning this part of the country of General Kearny, Mr. Mackenzie, Captain Wyeth, and others well acquainted with it, they hadall advised us by no means to attempt this southward journey withfewer than fifteen or twenty men. The danger consists in the chance ofencountering Indian war parties. Sometimes throughout the whole lengthof the journey (a distance of 350 miles) one does not meet a singlehuman being; frequently, however, the route is beset by Arapahoes andother unfriendly tribes; in which case the scalp of the adventurer is inimminent peril. As to the escort of fifteen or twenty men, such a forceof whites could at that time scarcely be collected by the whole country;and had the case been otherwise, the expense of securing them, togetherwith the necessary number of horses, would have been extremely heavy. Wehad resolved, however, upon pursuing this southward course. There were, indeed, two other routes from Fort Laramie; but both of these were lessinteresting, and neither was free from danger. Being unable therefore toprocure the fifteen or twenty men recommended, we determined to set outwith those we had already in our employ, Henry Chatillon, Delorier, andRaymond. The men themselves made no objection, nor would they have madeany had the journey been more dangerous; for Henry was without fear, andthe other two without thought. 

Shaw and I were much better fitted for this mode of traveling than wehad been on betaking ourselves to the prairies for the first time a fewmonths before. The daily routine had ceased to be a novelty. All thedetails of the journey and the camp had become familiar to us. We hadseen life under a new aspect; the human biped had been reduced to hisprimitive condition. We had lived without law to protect, a roof toshelter, or garment of cloth to cover us. One of us at least had beenwithout bread, and without salt to season his food. Our idea of whatis indispensable to human existence and enjoyment had been wonderfullycurtailed, and a horse, a rifle, and a knife seemed to make up the wholeof life's necessaries. For these once obtained, together with the skillto use them, all else that is essential would follow in their train, and a host of luxuries besides. One other lesson our short prairieexperience had taught us; that of profound contentment in the present, and utter contempt for what the future might bring forth. 

These principles established, we prepared to leave Fort Laramie. On thefourth day of August, early in the afternoon, we bade a final adieu toits hospitable gateway. Again Shaw and I were riding side by side on theprairie. For the first fifty miles we had companions with us; Troche, a little trapper, and Rouville, a nondescript in the employ of the FurCompany, who were going to join the trader Bisonette at his encampmentnear the head of Horse Creek. We rode only six or eight miles thatafternoon before we came to a little brook traversing the barrenprairie. All along its course grew copses of young wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, and almost concealing the gliding thread ofwater with their dense growth, while on each side rose swells of richgreen grass. Here we encamped; and being much too indolent to pitchour tent, we flung our saddles on the ground, spread a pair of buffalorobes, lay down upon them, and began to smoke. Meanwhile, Delorierbusied himself with his hissing frying-pan, and Raymond stood guardover the band of grazing horses. Delorier had an active assistant inRouville, who professed great skill in the culinary art, and seizingupon a fork, began to lend his zealous aid in making ready supper. Indeed, according to his own belief, Rouville was a man of universalknowledge, and he lost no opportunity to display his manifoldaccomplishments. He had been a circus-rider at St. Louis, and once herode round Fort Laramie on his head, to the utter bewilderment of allthe Indians. He was also noted as the wit of the Fort; and as he hadconsiderable humor and abundant vivacity, he contributed more thatnight to the liveliness of the camp than all the rest of the party puttogether. At one instant he would be kneeling by Delorier, instructinghim in the true method of frying antelope steaks, then he would come andseat himself at our side, dilating upon the orthodox fashion of braidingup a horse's tail, telling apocryphal stories how he had killed abuffalo bull with a knife, having first cut off his tail when at fullspeed, or relating whimsical anecdotes of the bourgeois Papin. At lasthe snatched up a volume of Shakespeare that was lying on the grass, andhalted and stumbled through a line or two to prove that he could read. He went gamboling about the camp, chattering like some frolicsome ape;and whatever he was doing at one moment, the presumption was a sureone that he would not be doing it the next. His companion Troche satsilently on the grass, not speaking a word, but keeping a vigilant eyeon a very ugly little Utah squaw, of whom he was extremely jealous. 

On the next day we traveled farther, crossing the wide sterile basincalled Goche's Hole. Toward night we became involved among deep ravines;and being also unable to find water, our journey was protracted toa very late hour. On the next morning we had to pass a long line ofbluffs, whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and storms, were of aghastly whiteness most oppressive to the sight. As we ascended a gapin these hills, the way was marked by huge foot-prints, like those ofa human giant. They were the track of the grizzly bear; and on theprevious day also we had seen abundance of them along the dry channelsof the streams we had passed. Immediately after this we were crossing abarren plain, spreading in long and gentle undulations to the horizon. Though the sun was bright, there was a light haze in the atmosphere. The distant hills assumed strange, distorted forms, and the edge ofthe horizon was continually changing its aspect. Shaw and I were ridingtogether, and Henry Chatillon was alone, a few rods before us; hestopped his horse suddenly, and turning round with the peculiar eagerand earnest expression which he always wore when excited, he calledto us to come forward. We galloped to his side. Henry pointed toward ablack speck on the gray swell of the prairie, apparently about a mileoff. "It must be a bear, " said he; "come, now, we shall all have somesport. Better fun to fight him than to fight an old buffalo bull;grizzly bear so strong and smart. "

So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a hard fight; forthese bears, though clumsy in appearance and extremely large, areincredibly fierce and active. The swell of the prairie concealed theblack object from our view. Immediately after it appeared again. But nowit seemed quite near to us; and as we looked at it in astonishment, it suddenly separated into two parts, each of which took wing andflew away. We stopped our horses and looked round at Henry, whose faceexhibited a curious mixture of mirth and mortification. His hawk's eyehad been so completely deceived by the peculiar atmosphere that he hadmistaken two large crows at the distance of fifty rods for a grizzlybear a mile off. To the journey's end Henry never heard the last of thegrizzly bear with wings. 

In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable hill. As weascended it Rouville began to ask questions concerning our conditionsand prospects at home, and Shaw was edifying him with a minute accountof an imaginary wife and child, to which he listened with implicitfaith. Reaching the top of the hill we saw the windings of Horse Creekon the plains below us, and a little on the left we could distinguishthe camp of Bisonette among the trees and copses along the course ofthe stream. Rouville's face assumed just then a most ludicrously blankexpression. We inquired what was the matter, when it appeared thatBisonette had sent him from this place to Fort Laramie with the soleobject of bringing back a supply of tobacco. Our rattle-brain friend, from the time of his reaching the Fort up to the present moment, hadentirely forgotten the object of his journey, and had ridden a dangeroushundred miles for nothing. Descending to Horse Creek we forded it, andon the opposite bank a solitary Indian sat on horseback under a tree. Hesaid nothing, but turned and led the way toward the camp. Bisonette hadmade choice of an admirable position. The stream, with its thick growthof trees, inclosed on three sides a wide green meadow, where about fortyDakota lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them half a dozenlodges of the friendly Cheyenne. Bisonette himself lived in the Indianmanner. Riding up to his lodge, we found him seated at the head of it, surrounded by various appliances of comfort not common on the prairie. His squaw was near him, and rosy children were scrambling about inprinted-calico gowns; Paul Dorion also, with his leathery face and oldwhite capote, was seated in the lodge, together with Antoine Le Rouge, ahalf-breed Pawnee, Sibille, a trader, and several other white men. 

"It will do you no harm, " said Bisonette, "to stay here with us for aday or two, before you start for the Pueblo. "

We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a rising groundabove the camp and close to the edge of the trees. Bisonette sooninvited us to a feast, and we suffered abundance of the same sort ofattention from his Indian associates. The reader may possibly recollectthat when I joined the Indian village, beyond the Black Hills, I foundthat a few families were absent, having declined to pass the mountainsalong with the rest. The Indians in Bisonette's camp consisted of thesevery families, and many of them came to me that evening to inquire aftertheir relatives and friends. They were not a little mortified to learnthat while they, from their own timidity and indolence, were almost ina starving condition, the rest of the village had provided their lodgesfor the next season, laid in a great stock of provisions, and wereliving in abundance and luxury. Bisonette's companions had beensustaining themselves for some time on wild cherries, which the squawspounded up, stones and all, and spread on buffalo robes, to dry in thesun; they were then eaten without further preparation, or used as aningredient in various delectable compounds. 

On the next day the camp was in commotion with a new arrival. A singleIndian had come with his family the whole way from the Arkansas. As hepassed among the lodges he put on an expression of unusual dignity andimportance, and gave out that he had brought great news to tell thewhites. Soon after the squaws had erected his lodge, he sent his littleson to invite all the white men, and all the most distinguished Indians, to a feast. The guests arrived and sat wedged together, shoulder toshoulder, within the hot and suffocating lodge. The Stabber, for thatwas our entertainer's name, had killed an old buffalo bull on his way. This veteran's boiled tripe, tougher than leather, formed the main itemof the repast. For the rest, it consisted of wild cherries and greaseboiled together in a large copper kettle. The feast was distributed, andfor a moment all was silent, strenuous exertion; then each guest, withone or two exceptions, however, turned his wooden dish bottom upward toprove that he had done full justice to his entertainer's hospitality. The Stabber next produced his chopping board, on which he prepared themixture for smoking, and filled several pipes, which circulated amongthe company. This done, he seated himself upright on his couch, andbegan with much gesticulation to tell his story. I will not repeathis childish jargon. It was so entangled, like the greater part of anIndian's stories, with absurd and contradictory details, that it wasalmost impossible to disengage from it a single particle of truth. Allthat we could gather was the following:

He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen six great war partiesof whites. He had never believed before that the whole world containedhalf so many white men. They all had large horses, long knives, andshort rifles, and some of them were attired alike in the most splendidwar dresses he had ever seen. From this account it was clear that bodiesof dragoons and perhaps also of volunteer cavalry had been passing upthe Arkansas. The Stabber had also seen a great many of the white lodgesof the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned buffalo. These could benothing else than covered ox-wagons used no doubt in transporting storesfor the troops. Soon after seeing this, our host had met an Indian whohad lately come from among the Comanches. The latter had told himthat all the Mexicans had gone out to a great buffalo hunt. That theAmericans had hid themselves in a ravine. When the Mexicans had shotaway all their arrows, the Americans had fired their guns, raised theirwar-whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We could only infer fromthis that war had been declared with Mexico, and a battle fought inwhich the Americans were victorious. When, some weeks after, we arrivedat the Pueblo, we heard of General Kearny's march up the Arkansas and ofGeneral Taylor's victories at Matamoras. 

As the sun was setting that evening a great crowd gathered on the plainby the side of our tent, to try the speed of their horses. These were ofevery shape, size, and color. Some came from California, some from theStates, some from among the mountains, and some from the wild bands ofthe prairie. They were of every hue--white, black, red, and gray, ormottled and clouded with a strange variety of colors. They all had awild and startled look, very different from the staid and sober aspectof a well-bred city steed. Those most noted for swiftness and spiritwere decorated with eagle-feathers dangling from their manes and tails. Fifty or sixty Dakotas were present, wrapped from head to foot in theirheavy robes of whitened hide. There were also a considerable number ofthe Cheyenne, many of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos swathed aroundtheir shoulders, but leaving the right arm bare. Mingled among thecrowd of Indians were a number of Canadians, chiefly in the employ ofBisonette; men, whose home is in the wilderness, and who love the campfire better than the domestic hearth. They are contented and happy inthe midst of hardship, privation, and danger. Their cheerfulness andgayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth understand better how"to daff the world aside and bid it pass. " Besides these, were two orthree half-breeds, a race of rather extraordinary composition, beingaccording to the common saying half Indian, half white man, and halfdevil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous among them, with hisloose pantaloons and his fluttering calico skirt. A handkerchief wasbound round his head to confine his black snaky hair, and his smalleyes twinkled beneath it, with a mischievous luster. He had a finecream-colored horse whose speed he must needs try along with the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked saddle, and substituting a piece ofbuffalo robe, leaped lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, theword was given, and he and his Indian rival darted out like lightningfrom among the crowd, each stretching forward over his horse's neck andplying his heavy Indian whip with might and main. A moment, and bothwere lost in the gloom; but Antoine soon came riding back victorious, exultingly patting the neck of his quivering and panting horse. 

About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a buffalo robe on the groundby the side of our cart, Raymond came up and woke me. Something he said, was going forward which I would like to see. Looking down into campI saw, on the farther side of it, a great number of Indians gatheredaround a fire, the bright glare of which made them visible through thethick darkness; while from the midst of them proceeded a loud, measuredchant which would have killed Paganini outright, broken occasionally bya burst of sharp yells. I gathered the robe around me, for the nightwas cold, and walked down to the spot. The dark throng of Indians wasso dense that they almost intercepted the light of the flame. As I waspushing among them with but little ceremony, a chief interposed himself, and I was given to understand that a white man must not approach thescene of their solemnities too closely. By passing round to the otherside, where there was a little opening in the crowd, I could see clearlywhat was going forward, without intruding my unhallowed presence intothe inner circle. The society of the "Strong Hearts" were engaged in oneof their dances. The Strong Hearts are a warlike association, comprisingmen of both the Dakota and Cheyenne nations, and entirely composed, or supposed to be so, of young braves of the highest mettle. Itsfundamental principle is the admirable one of never retreating from anyenterprise once commenced. All these Indian associations have a tutelaryspirit. That of the Strong Hearts is embodied in the fox, an animalwhich a white man would hardly have selected for a similar purpose, though his subtle and cautious character agrees well enough with anIndian's notions of what is honorable in warfare. The dancers werecircling round and round the fire, each figure brightly illumined at onemoment by the yellow light, and at the next drawn in blackest shadow asit passed between the flame and the spectator. They would imitate withthe most ludicrous exactness the motions and the voice of their slypatron the fox. Then a startling yell would be given. Many otherwarriors would leap into the ring, and with faces upturned towardthe starless sky, they would all stamp, and whoop, and brandish theirweapons like so many frantic devils. 

Until the next afternoon we were still remaining with Bisonette. Mycompanion and I with our three attendants then left his camp for thePueblo, a distance of three hundred miles, and we supposed the journeywould occupy about a fortnight. During this time we all earnestly hopedthat we might not meet a single human being, for should we encounterany, they would in all probability be enemies, ferocious robbers andmurderers, in whose eyes our rifles would be our only passports. Forthe first two days nothing worth mentioning took place. On the thirdmorning, however, an untoward incident occurred. We were encamped by theside of a little brook in an extensive hollow of the plain. Delorierwas up long before daylight, and before he began to prepare breakfasthe turned loose all the horses, as in duty bound. There was a cold mistclinging close to the ground, and by the time the rest of us were awakethe animals were invisible. It was only after a long and anxious searchthat we could discover by their tracks the direction they had taken. They had all set off for Fort Laramie, following the guidance of amutinous old mule, and though many of them were hobbled they had driventhree miles before they could be overtaken and driven back. 

For the following two or three days we were passing over an arid desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts of short grass, dried and shriveledby the heat. There was an abundance of strange insects and reptiles. Huge crickets, black and bottle green, and wingless grasshoppers of themost extravagant dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' feet, andlizards without numbers were darting like lightning among the tufts ofgrass. The most curious animal, however, was that commonly called thehorned frog. I caught one of them and consigned him to the care ofDelorier, who tied him up in a moccasin. About a month after this Iexamined the prisoner's condition, and finding him still lively andactive, I provided him with a cage of buffalo hide, which was hung upin the cart. In this manner he arrived safely at the settlements. Fromthence he traveled the whole way to Boston packed closely in a trunk, being regaled with fresh air regularly every night. When he reached hisdestination he was deposited under a glass case, where he sat for somemonths in great tranquillity and composure, alternately dilating andcontracting his white throat to the admiration of his visitors. Atlength, one morning, about the middle of winter, he gave up the ghost. His death was attributed to starvation, a very probable conclusion, since for six months he had taken no food whatever, though the sympathyof his juvenile admirers had tempted his palate with a great varietyof delicacies. We found also animals of a somewhat larger growth. Thenumber of prairie dogs was absolutely astounding. Frequently the hardand dry prairie would be thickly covered, for many miles together, withthe little mounds which they make around the mouth of their burrows, andsmall squeaking voices yelping at us as we passed along. The noses ofthe inhabitants would be just visible at the mouth of their holes, but no sooner was their curiosity satisfied than they would instantlyvanish. Some of the bolder dogs--though in fact they are no dogs at all, but little marmots rather smaller than a rabbit--would sit yelping at uson the top of their mounds, jerking their tails emphatically with everyshrill cry they uttered. As the danger grew nearer they would wheelabout, toss their heels into the air, and dive in a twinkling down intotheir burrows. Toward sunset, and especially if rain were threatening, the whole community would make their appearance above ground. We wouldsee them gathered in large knots around the burrow of some favoritecitizen. There they would all sit erect, their tails spread out onthe ground, and their paws hanging down before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking with the utmost vivacity upon some topic ofcommon interest, while the proprietor of the burrow, with his headjust visible on the top of his mound, would sit looking down with acomplacent countenance on the enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, otherswould be running about from burrow to burrow, as if on some errand ofthe last importance to their subterranean commonwealth. The snakes wereapparently the prairie dog's worst enemies, at least I think too well ofthe latter to suppose that they associate on friendly terms with theseslimy intruders, who may be seen at all times basking among their holes, into which they always retreat when disturbed. Small owls, with wise andgrave countenances, also make their abode with the prairie dogs, thoughon what terms they live together I could never ascertain. The mannersand customs, the political and domestic economy of these little marmotsis worthy of closer attention than one is able to give when pushing byforced marches through their country, with his thoughts engrossed byobjects of greater moment. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette's camp we saw late in theafternoon what we supposed to be a considerable stream, but on ourapproaching it we found to our mortification nothing but a dry bed ofsand into which all the water had sunk and disappeared. We separated, some riding in one direction and some in another along its course. Stillwe found no traces of water, not even so much as a wet spot in the sand. The old cotton-wood trees that grew along the bank, lamentably abused bylightning and tempest, were withering with the drought, and on the deadlimbs, at the summit of the tallest, half a dozen crows were hoarselycawing like birds of evil omen as they were. We had no alternative butto keep on. There was no water nearer than the South Fork of the Platte, about ten miles distant. We moved forward, angry and silent, over adesert as flat as the outspread ocean. 

The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were gathered together in the west. Theyrose to a great height above the horizon, and looking up toward them Idistinguished one mass darker than the rest and of a peculiar conicalform. I happened to look again and still could see it as before. At somemoments it was dimly seen, at others its outline was sharp and distinct;but while the clouds around it were shifting, changing, and dissolvingaway, it still towered aloft in the midst of them, fixed and immovable. It must, thought I, be the summit of a mountain, and yet its heightsstaggered me. My conclusion was right, however. It was Long's Peak, oncebelieved to be one of the highest of the Rocky Mountain chain, thoughmore recent discoveries have proved the contrary. The thickening gloomsoon hid it from view and we never saw it again, for on the followingday and for some time after, the air was so full of mist that the viewof distant objects was entirely intercepted. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course we made for the riverat its nearest point, though in the utter darkness it was not easy todirect our way with much precision. Raymond rode on one side and Henryon the other. We could hear each of them shouting that he had come upona deep ravine. We steered at random between Scylla and Charybdis, andsoon after became, as it seemed, inextricably involved with deep chasmsall around us, while the darkness was such that we could not see a rodin any direction. We partially extricated ourselves by scrambling, cartand all, through a shallow ravine. We came next to a steep descent downwhich we plunged without well knowing what was at the bottom. There wasa great crackling of sticks and dry twigs. Over our heads were certainlarge shadowy objects, and in front something like the faint gleamingof a dark sheet of water. Raymond ran his horse against a tree; Henryalighted, and feeling on the ground declared that there was grass enoughfor the horses. Before taking off his saddle each man led his own horsesdown to the water in the best way he could. Then picketing two or threeof the evil-disposed we turned the rest loose and lay down among the drysticks to sleep. In the morning we found ourselves close to the SouthFork of the Platte on a spot surrounded by bushes and rank grass. Compensating ourselves with a hearty breakfast for the ill fare of theprevious night, we set forward again on our journey. When only two orthree rods from the camp I saw Shaw stop his mule, level his gun, andafter a long aim fire at some object in the grass. Delorier next jumpedforward and began to dance about, belaboring the unseen enemy with awhip. Then he stooped down and drew out of the grass by the neck anenormous rattlesnake, with his head completely shattered by Shaw'sbullet. As Delorier held him out at arm's length with an exulting grinhis tail, which still kept slowly writhing about, almost touched theground, and the body in the largest part was as thick as a stout man'sarm. He had fourteen rattles, but the end of his tail was blunted, as ifhe could once have boasted of many more. From this time till we reachedthe Pueblo we killed at least four or five of these snakes every day asthey lay coiled and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw was the St. Patrickof the party, and whenever he or any one else killed a snake he alwayspulled off his tail and stored it away in his bullet-pouch, which wassoon crammed with an edifying collection of rattles, great and small. Delorier, with his whip, also came in for a share of the praise. A dayor two after this he triumphantly produced a small snake about a spanand a half long, with one infant rattle at the end of his tail. 

We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its farther bank were thetraces of a very large camp of Arapahoes. The ashes of some threehundred fires were visible among the scattered trees, together withthe remains of sweating lodges, and all the other appurtenances of apermanent camp. The place however had been for some months deserted. Afew miles farther on we found more recent signs of Indians; the trailof two or three lodges, which had evidently passed the day before, where every foot-print was perfectly distinct in the dry, dusty soil. Wenoticed in particular the track of one moccasin, upon the sole of whichits economical proprietor had placed a large patch. These signs gave usbut little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors scarcely exceededthat of our own party. At noon we rested under the walls of a largefort, built in these solitudes some years since by M. St. Vrain. It wasnow abandoned and fast falling into ruin. The walls of unbaked brickswere cracked from top to bottom. Our horses recoiled in terror from theneglected entrance, where the heavy gates were torn from their hingesand flung down. The area within was overgrown with weeds, and the longranges of apartments, once occupied by the motley concourse of traders, Canadians, and squaws, were now miserably dilapidated. Twelve milesfurther on, near the spot where we encamped, were the remains of stillanother fort, standing in melancholy desertion and neglect. 

Early on the following morning we made a startling discovery. We passedclose by a large deserted encampment of Arapahoes. There were aboutfifty fires still smouldering on the ground, and it was evident fromnumerous signs that the Indians must have left the place within twohours of our reaching it. Their trail crossed our own at right angles, and led in the direction of a line of hills half a mile on our left. There were women and children in the party, which would have greatlydiminished the danger of encountering them. Henry Chatillon examined theencampment and the trail with a very professional and businesslike air. 

"Supposing we had met them, Henry?" said I. 

"Why, " said he, "we hold out our hands to them, and give them all we'vegot; they take away everything, and then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps, " added he, looking up with a quiet, unchanged face, "perhaps weno let them rob us. Maybe before they come near, we have a chance to getinto a ravine, or under the bank of the river; then, you know, we fightthem. "

About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. Here was a greatabundance of wild cherries, plums, gooseberries, and currants. Thestream, however, like most of the others which we passed, was dried upwith the heat, and we had to dig holes in the sand to find water forourselves and our horses. Two days after, we left the banks of the creekwhich we had been following for some time, and began to cross the highdividing ridge which separates the waters of the Platte from thoseof the Arkansas. The scenery was altogether changed. In place of theburning plains we were passing now through rough and savage glens andamong hills crowned with a dreary growth of pines. We encamped amongthese solitudes on the night of the 16th of August. A tempest wasthreatening. The sun went down among volumes of jet-black cloud, edgedwith a bloody red. But in spite of these portentous signs, we neglectedto put up the tent, and being extremely fatigued, lay down on the groundand fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, and we erected thetent amid darkness and confusion. In the morning all was fair again, and Pike's Peak, white with snow, was towering above the wilderness afaroff. 

We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods. Large blacksquirrels were leaping among the branches. From the farther edge ofthis forest we saw the prairie again, hollowed out before us into a vastbasin, and about a mile in front we could discern a little black speckmoving upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buffalo. Henry primedhis rifle afresh and galloped forward. To the left of the animal was alow rocky mound, of which Henry availed himself in making his approach. After a short time we heard the faint report of the rifle. The bull, mortally wounded from a distance of nearly three hundred yards, ranwildly round and round in a circle. Shaw and I then galloped forward, and passing him as he ran, foaming with rage and pain, we discharged ourpistols into his side. Once or twice he rushed furiously upon us, buthis strength was rapidly exhausted. Down he fell on his knees. For oneinstant he glared up at his enemies with burning eyes through his blacktangled mane, and then rolled over on his side. Though gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier than the largest ox. Foam and blood flewtogether from his nostrils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, tearing up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose and felllike a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up in jets from thebullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes became like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. Henry stooped over him, and making anincision with his knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use;so, disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock of provisions, we rode away and left the carcass to the wolves. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a gigantic wall atno great distance on our right. "Des sauvages! des sauvages!" exclaimedDelorier, looking round with a frightened face, and pointing withhis whip toward the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see at adistance a number of little black specks, like horsemen in rapidmotion. Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and myself, galloped toward themto reconnoiter, when to our amusement we saw the supposed Arapahoesresolved into the black tops of some pine trees which grew along aravine. The summits of these pines, just visible above the verge ofthe prairie, and seeming to move as we ourselves were advancing, lookedexactly like a line of horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows, through which a little brookwas foaming angrily. Before sunrise in the morning the snow-coveredmountains were beautifully tinged with a delicate rose color. A noblespectacle awaited us as we moved forward. Six or eight miles on ourright, Pike's Peak and his giant brethren rose out of the level prairie, as if springing from the bed of the ocean. From their summits down tothe plain below they were involved in a mantle of clouds, in restlessmotion, as if urged by strong winds. For one instant some snowy peak, towering in awful solitude, would be disclosed to view. As theclouds broke along the mountain, we could see the dreary forests, thetremendous precipices, the white patches of snow, the gulfs and chasmsas black as night, all revealed for an instant, and then disappearingfrom the view. One could not but recall the stanza of "Childe Harold":

 Morn dawns, and with it stern Albania's hills, Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak, Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, Array'd in many a dun and purple streak, Arise; and, as the clouds along them break, Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer: Here roams the wolf, the eagle whets his beak, Birds, beasts of prey, and wilder men appear, And gathering storms around convulse the closing year. 

Every line save one of this description was more than verified here. There were no "dwellings of the mountaineer" among these heights. Fiercesavages, restlessly wandering through summer and winter, alone invadethem. "Their hand is against every man, and every man's hand againstthem. "

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some distance. A blackcloud descended upon them, and a tremendous explosion of thunderfollowed, reverberating among the precipices. In a few momentseverything grew black and the rain poured down like a cataract. We gotunder an old cotton-wood tree which stood by the side of a stream, andwaited there till the rage of the torrent had passed. 

The clouds opened at the point where they first had gathered, and thewhole sublime congregation of mountains was bathed at once in warmsunshine. They seemed more like some luxurious vision of Eastern romancethan like a reality of that wilderness; all were melted together intoa soft delicious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples or thetransparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs of Capri. On the left thewhole sky was still of an inky blackness; but two concentric rainbowsstood in brilliant relief against it, while far in front the raggedcloud still streamed before the wind, and the retreating thundermuttered angrily. 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we were passing down thebanks of the stream called La Fontaine qui Bouille, from the boilingspring whose waters flow into it. When we stopped at noon, we werewithin six or eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we found bythe fresh tracks that a horseman had just been out to reconnoiter us; hehad circled half round the camp, and then galloped back full speed forthe Pueblo. What made him so shy of us we could not conceive. After anhour's ride we reached the edge of a hill, from which a welcome sightgreeted us. The Arkansas ran along the valley below, among woods andgroves, and closely nestled in the midst of wide cornfields and greenmeadows where cattle were grazing rose the low mud walls of the Pueblo. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT

We approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a wretched species of fortof most primitive construction, being nothing more than a largesquare inclosure, surrounded by a wall of mud, miserably cracked anddilapidated. The slender pickets that surmounted it were half brokendown, and the gate dangled on its wooden hinges so loosely, that toopen or shut it seemed likely to fling it down altogether. Two or threesqualid Mexicans, with their broad hats, and their vile faces overgrownwith hair, were lounging about the bank of the river in front of it. They disappeared as they saw us approach; and as we rode up to the gatea light active little figure came out to meet us. It was our old friendRichard. He had come from Fort Laramie on a trading expedition to Taos;but finding, when he reached the Pueblo, that the war would prevent hisgoing farther, he was quietly waiting till the conquest of the countryshould allow him to proceed. He seemed to consider himself bound to dothe honors of the place. Shaking us warmly by the hands, he led the wayinto the area. 

Here we saw his large Santa Fe wagons standing together. A few squawsand Spanish women, and a few Mexicans, as mean and miserable as theplace itself, were lazily sauntering about. Richard conducted us to thestate apartment of the Pueblo, a small mud room, very neatlyfinished, considering the material, and garnished with a crucifix, alooking-glass, a picture of the Virgin, and a rusty horse pistol. Therewere no chairs, but instead of them a number of chests and boxesranged about the room. There was another room beyond, less sumptuouslydecorated, and here three or four Spanish girls, one of them verypretty, were baking cakes at a mud fireplace in the corner. They broughtout a poncho, which they spread upon the floor by way of table-cloth. A supper, which seemed to us luxurious, was soon laid out upon it, andfolded buffalo robes were placed around it to receive the guests. Twoor three Americans, besides ourselves, were present. We sat down Turkishfashion, and began to inquire the news. Richard told us that, aboutthree weeks before, General Kearny's army had left Bent's Fort to marchagainst Santa Fe; that when last heard from they were approaching themountainous defiles that led to the city. One of the Americans produceda dingy newspaper, containing an account of the battles of Palo Alto andResaca de la Palma. While we were discussing these matters, the doorwaywas darkened by a tall, shambling fellow, who stood with his hands inhis pockets taking a leisurely survey of the premises before he entered. He wore brown homespun pantaloons, much too short for his legs, anda pistol and bowie knife stuck in his belt. His head and one eyewere enveloped in a huge bandage of white linen. Having completed hisobservations, he came slouching in and sat down on a chest. Eight or tenmore of the same stamp followed, and very coolly arranging themselvesabout the room, began to stare at the company. Shaw and I looked at eachother. We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon emigrants, though theseunwelcome visitors had a certain glitter of the eye, and a compressionof the lips, which distinguished them from our old acquaintances of theprairie. They began to catechise us at once, inquiring whence we hadcome, what we meant to do next, and what were our future prospects inlife. 

The man with the bandaged head had met with an untoward accident a fewdays before. He was going down to the river to bring water, and waspushing through the young willows which covered the low ground, when hecame unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just eaten a buffalobull, had lain down to sleep off the meal. The bear rose on his hindlegs, and gave the intruder such a blow with his paw that he laid hisforehead entirely bare, clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowlymissed one of his eyes. Fortunately he was not in a very pugnaciousmood, being surfeited with his late meal. The man's companions, who wereclose behind, raised a shout and the bear walked away, crushing down thewillows in his leisurely retreat. 

These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, out of a well-groundedfear of the other emigrants, had postponed leaving the settlements untilall the rest were gone. On account of this delay they did not reach FortLaramie until it was too late to continue their journey to California. Hearing that there was good land at the head of the Arkansas, theycrossed over under the guidance of Richard, and were now preparing tospend the winter at a spot about half a mile from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard, it was near sunset. Passing out of thegate, we could look down the little valley of the Arkansas; a beautifulscene, and doubly so to our eyes, so long accustomed to deserts andmountains. Tall woods lined the river, with green meadows on eitherhand; and high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, flanked thenarrow valley. A Mexican on horseback was driving a herd of cattletoward the gate, and our little white tent, which the men had pitchedunder a large tree in the meadow, made a very pleasing feature in thescene. When we reached it, we found that Richard had sent a Mexican tobring us an abundant supply of green corn and vegetables, and inviteus to help ourselves to whatever we wished from the fields around thePueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehensions of an inroad from moreformidable consumers than ourselves. Every year at the time when thecorn begins to ripen, the Arapahoes, to the number of several thousands, come and encamp around the Pueblo. The handful of white men, who areentirely at the mercy of this swarm of barbarians, choose to make amerit of necessity; they come forward very cordially, shake them by thehand, and intimate that the harvest is entirely at their disposal. TheArapahoes take them at their word, help themselves most liberally, andusually turn their horses into the cornfields afterward. They have theforesight, however, to leave enough of the crops untouched to serve asan inducement for planting the fields again for their benefit in thenext spring. 

The human race in this part of the world is separated into threedivisions, arranged in the order of their merits; white men, Indians, and Mexicans; to the latter of whom the honorable title of "whites" isby no means conceded. 

In spite of the warm sunset of that evening the next morning was adreary and cheerless one. It rained steadily, clouds resting upon thevery treetops. We crossed the river to visit the Mormon settlement. Aswe passed through the water, several trappers on horseback entered itfrom the other side. Their buckskin frocks were soaked through by therain, and clung fast to their limbs with a most clammy and uncomfortablelook. The water was trickling down their faces, and dropping from theends of their rifles, and from the traps which each carried at thepommel of his saddle. Horses and all, they had a most disconsolate andwoebegone appearance, which we could not help laughing at, forgettinghow often we ourselves had been in a similar plight. 

After half an hour's riding we saw the white wagons of the Mormons drawnup among the trees. Axes were sounding, trees were falling, and log-hutsgoing up along the edge of the woods and upon the adjoining meadow. As we came up the Mormons left their work and seated themselves onthe timber around us, when they began earnestly to discuss pointsof theology, complain of the ill-usage they had received from the"Gentiles, " and sound a lamentation over the loss of their great templeat Nauvoo. After remaining with them an hour we rode back to our camp, happy that the settlements had been delivered from the presence of suchblind and desperate fanatics. 

On the morning after this we left the Pueblo for Bent's Fort. Theconduct of Raymond had lately been less satisfactory than before, andwe had discharged him as soon as we arrived at the former place; so thatthe party, ourselves included, was now reduced to four. There was someuncertainty as to our future course. The trail between Bent's Fort andthe settlements, a distance computed at six hundred miles, was at thistime in a dangerous state; for since the passage of General Kearny'sarmy, great numbers of hostile Indians, chiefly Pawnees and Comanches, had gathered about some parts of it. A little after this time theybecame so numerous and audacious, that scarcely a single party, howeverlarge, passed between the fort and the frontier without some token oftheir hostility. The newspapers of the time sufficiently display thisstate of things. Many men were killed, and great numbers of horses andmules carried off. Not long since I met with the gentleman, who, duringthe autumn, came from Santa Fe to Bent's Fort, when he found a partyof seventy men, who thought themselves too weak to go down to thesettlements alone, and were waiting there for a re-enforcement. Thoughthis excessive timidity fully proves the ignorance and credulity ofthe men, it may also evince the state of alarm which prevailed in thecountry. When we were there in the month of August, the danger had notbecome so great. There was nothing very attractive in the neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we might wait there half the winter withoutfinding any party to go down with us; for Mr. Sublette and the otherswhom we had relied upon had, as Richard told us, already left Bent'sFort. Thus far on our journey Fortune had kindly befriended us. Weresolved therefore to take advantage of her gracious mood and trustingfor a continuance of her favors, to set out with Henry and Delorier, andrun the gauntlet of the Indians in the best way we could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five miles below thePueblo. At noon of the third day we arrived within three or four milesof it, pitched our tent under a tree, hung our looking-glasses againstits trunk and having made our primitive toilet, rode toward the fort. We soon came in sight of it, for it is visible from a considerabledistance, standing with its high clay walls in the midst of thescorching plains. It seemed as if a swarm of locusts had invaded thecountry. The grass for miles around was cropped close by the horses ofGeneral Kearny's soldiery. When we came to the fort, we found that notonly had the horses eaten up the grass, but their owners had madeaway with the stores of the little trading post; so that we had greatdifficulty in procuring the few articles which we required for ourhomeward journey. The army was gone, the life and bustle passed away, and the fort was a scene of dull and lazy tranquillity. A few invalidofficers and soldiers sauntered about the area, which was oppressivelyhot; for the glaring sun was reflected down upon it from the high whitewalls around. The proprietors were absent, and we were received by Mr. Holt, who had been left in charge of the fort. He invited us to dinner, where, to our admiration, we found a table laid with a white cloth, withcastors in the center and chairs placed around it. This unwonted repastconcluded, we rode back to our camp. 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, we saw through thedusk three men approaching from the direction of the fort. They rode upand seated themselves near us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, well-formed man, with a face and manner such as inspire confidence atonce. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouching and tattered, and the restof his attire consisted of a frock and leggings of buckskin, rubbed withthe yellow clay found among the mountains. At the heel of one of hismoccasins was buckled a huge iron spur, with a rowel five or six inchesin diameter. His horse, who stood quietly looking over his head, had arude Mexican saddle, covered with a shaggy bearskin, and furnished witha pair of wooden stirrups of most preposterous size. The next man was asprightly, active little fellow, about five feet and a quarter high, butvery strong and compact. His face was swarthy as a Mexican's and coveredwith a close, curly black beard. An old greasy calico handkerchief wastied round his head, and his close buckskin dress was blackened andpolished by grease and hard service. The last who came up was a largestrong man, dressed in the coarse homespun of the frontiers, who draggedhis long limbs over the ground as if he were too lazy for the effort. Hehad a sleepy gray eye, a retreating chin, an open mouth and aprotruding upper lip, which gave him an air of exquisite indolenceand helplessness. He was armed with an old United States yager, whichredoubtable weapon, though he could never hit his mark with it, he wasaccustomed to cherish as the very sovereign of firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had just come from Californiawith a large band of horses, which they had disposed of at Bent'sFort. Munroe, the taller of the two, was from Iowa. He was an excellentfellow, open, warm-hearted and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short man, was a Boston sailor, who had come in a trading vessel to California, andtaken the fancy to return across the continent. The journey had alreadymade him an expert "mountain man, " and he presented the extraordinaryphenomenon of a sailor who understood how to manage a horse. The thirdof our visitors named Ellis, was a Missourian, who had come out with aparty of Oregon emigrants, but having got as far as Bridge's Fort, hehad fallen home-sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick--and Ellis was justthe man to be balked in a love adventure. He thought proper to join theCalifornia men and return homeward in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with our party, and make thejourney to the settlements in company with us. We readily assented, forwe liked the appearance of the first two men, and were very glad togain so efficient a re-enforcement. We told them to meet us on the nextevening at a spot on the river side, about six miles below the fort. Having smoked a pipe together, our new allies left us, and we lay downto sleep. 

CHAPTER XXII

TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER

The next morning, having directed Delorier to repair with his cartto the place of meeting, we came again to the fort to make somearrangements for the journey. After completing these we sat down under asort of perch, to smoke with some Cheyenne Indians whom we found there. In a few minutes we saw an extraordinary little figure approach us in amilitary dress. He had a small, round countenance, garnished aboutthe eyes with the kind of wrinkles commonly known as crow's feet andsurrounded by an abundant crop of red curls, with a little cap restingon the top of them. Altogether, he had the look of a man more conversantwith mint juleps and oyster suppers than with the hardships of prairieservice. He came up to us and entreated that we would take him home tothe settlements, saying that unless he went with us he should have tostay all winter at the fort. We liked our petitioner's appearance solittle that we excused ourselves from complying with his request. Atthis he begged us so hard to take pity on him, looked so disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story that at last we consented, though notwithout many misgivings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real name proved utterlyunmanageable on the lips of our French attendants, and Henry Chatillon, after various abortive attempts to pronounce it, one day coollychristened him Tete Rouge, in honor of his red curls. He had atdifferent times been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, and agent ina trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides filling various othercapacities, in all of which he had seen much more of "life" than wasgood for him. In the spring, thinking that a summer's campaign wouldbe an agreeable recreation, he had joined a company of St. Louisvolunteers. 

"There were three of us, " said Tete Rouge, "me and Bill Stevens and JohnHopkins. We thought we would just go out with the army, and when we hadconquered the country, we would get discharged and take our pay, youknow, and go down to Mexico. They say there is plenty of fun going onthere. Then we could go back to New Orleans by way of Vera Cruz. "

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had reckoned withouthis host. Fighting Mexicans was a less amusing occupation than he hadsupposed, and his pleasure trip was disagreeably interrupted by brainfever, which attacked him when about halfway to Bent's Fort. He joltedalong through the rest of the journey in a baggage wagon. When they cameto the fort he was taken out and left there, together with the rest ofthe sick. Bent's Fort does not supply the best accommodations for aninvalid. Tete Rouge's sick chamber was a little mud room, where he and acompanion attacked by the same disease were laid together, with nothingbut a buffalo robe between them and the ground. The assistant surgeon'sdeputy visited them once a day and brought them each a huge dose ofcalomel, the only medicine, according to his surviving victim, which hewas acquainted with. 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his companion, saw his eyesfixed upon the beams above with the glassy stare of a dead man. At thisthe unfortunate volunteer lost his senses outright. In spite of thedoctor, however, he eventually recovered; though between the brain feverand the calomel, his mind, originally none of the strongest, was so muchshaken that it had not quite recovered its balance when we came to thefort. In spite of the poor fellow's tragic story, there was somethingso ludicrous in his appearance, and the whimsical contrast between hismilitary dress and his most unmilitary demeanor, that we could not helpsmiling at them. We asked him if he had a gun. He said they had takenit from him during his illness, and he had not seen it since; "butperhaps, " he observed, looking at me with a beseeching air, "you willlend me one of your big pistols if we should meet with any Indians. " Inext inquired if he had a horse; he declared he had a magnificent one, and at Shaw's request a Mexican led him in for inspection. He exhibitedthe outline of a good horse, but his eyes were sunk in the sockets, andevery one of his ribs could be counted. There were certain marks tooabout his shoulders, which could be accounted for by the circumstance, that during Tete Rouge's illness, his companions had seized upon theinsulted charger, and harnessed him to a cannon along with the drafthorses. To Tete Rouge's astonishment we recommended him by all means toexchange the horse, if he could, for a mule. Fortunately the people atthe fort were so anxious to get rid of him that they were willing tomake some sacrifice to effect the object, and he succeeded in getting atolerable mule in exchange for the broken-down steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule by a cord which heplaced in the hands of Tete Rouge, who, being somewhat afraid of his newacquisition, tried various flatteries and blandishments to induce herto come forward. The mule, knowing that she was expected to advance, stopped short in consequence, and stood fast as a rock, looking straightforward with immovable composure. Being stimulated by a blow from behindshe consented to move, and walked nearly to the other side of the fortbefore she stopped again. Hearing the by-standers laugh, Tete Rougeplucked up spirit and tugged hard at the rope. The mule jerked backward, spun herself round, and made a dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, who clungmanfully to the rope, went whisking through the air for a few rods, whenhe let go and stood with his mouth open, staring after the mule, whogalloped away over the prairie. She was soon caught and brought backby a Mexican, who mounted a horse and went in pursuit of her with hislasso. 

Having thus displayed his capacity for prairie travel, Tete Rougeproceeded to supply himself with provisions for the journey, and withthis view he applied to a quartermaster's assistant who was in the fort. This official had a face as sour as vinegar, being in a state of chronicindignation because he had been left behind the army. He was as anxiousas the rest to get rid of Tete Rouge. So, producing a rusty key, heopened a low door which led to a half-subterranean apartment, into whichthe two disappeared together. After some time they came out again, TeteRouge greatly embarrassed by a multiplicity of paper parcels containingthe different articles of his forty days' rations. They were consignedto the care of Delorier, who about that time passed by with the carton his way to the appointed place of meeting with Munroe and hiscompanions. 

We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if he could, with a gun. He accordingly made earnest appeals to the charity of various personsin the fort, but totally without success, a circumstance which did notgreatly disturb us, since in the event of a skirmish he would be muchmore apt to do mischief to himself or his friends than to the enemy. When all these arrangements were completed we saddled our horses andwere preparing to leave the fort, when looking round we discovered thatour new associate was in fresh trouble. A man was holding the mule forhim in the middle of the fort, while he tried to put the saddle on herback, but she kept stepping sideways and moving round and round ina circle until he was almost in despair. It required some assistancebefore all his difficulties could be overcome. At length he clamberedinto the black war saddle on which he was to have carried terror intothe ranks of the Mexicans. 

"Get up, " said Tete Rouge, "come now, go along, will you. "

The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. Her recent conducthad inspired him with so much awe that he never dared to touch her withhis whip. We trotted forward toward the place of meeting, but before hehad gone far we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who perfectly understoodher rider, had stopped and was quietly grazing, in spite of hisprotestations, at some distance behind. So getting behind him, we drovehim and the contumacious mule before us, until we could see through thetwilight the gleaming of a distant fire. Munroe, Jim, and Ellis werelying around it; their saddles, packs, and weapons were scattered aboutand their horses picketed near them. Delorier was there too with ourlittle cart. Another fire was soon blazing high. We invited our newallies to take a cup of coffee with us. When both the others had goneover to their side of the camp, Jim Gurney still stood by the blaze, puffing hard at his little black pipe, as short and weather-beaten ashimself. 

"Well!" he said, "here are eight of us; we'll call it six--for them twoboobies, Ellis over yonder, and that new man of yours, won't count foranything. We'll get through well enough, never fear for that, unless theComanches happen to get foul of us. "

CHAPTER XXIII

INDIAN ALARMS

We began our journey for the frontier settlements on the 27th of August, and certainly a more ragamuffin cavalcade never was seen on the banks ofthe Upper Arkansas. Of the large and fine horses with which we had leftthe frontier in the spring, not one remained; we had supplied theirplace with the rough breed of the prairie, as hardy as mules and almostas ugly; we had also with us a number of the latter detestable animals. In spite of their strength and hardihood, several of the band werealready worn down by hard service and hard fare, and as none of themwere shod, they were fast becoming foot-sore. Every horse and mule hada cord of twisted bull-hide coiled around his neck, which by nomeans added to the beauty of his appearance. Our saddles and all ourequipments were by this time lamentably worn and battered, and ourweapons had become dull and rusty. The dress of the riders fullycorresponded with the dilapidated furniture of our horses, and of thewhole party none made a more disreputable appearance than my friend andI. Shaw had for an upper garment an old red flannel shirt, flying openin front and belted around him like a frock; while I, in absence ofother clothing, was attired in a time-worn suit of leather. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept slowly from day today along the monotonous banks of the Arkansas. Tete Rouge gave constanttrouble, for he could never catch his mule, saddle her, or indeed doanything else without assistance. Every day he had some new ailment, real or imaginary, to complain of. At one moment he would be woebegoneand disconsolate, and the next he would be visited with a violent flowof spirits, to which he could only give vent by incessant laughing, whistling, and telling stories. When other resources failed, we used toamuse ourselves by tormenting him; a fair compensation for the troublehe cost us. Tete Rouge rather enjoyed being laughed at, for he wasan odd compound of weakness, eccentricity, and good-nature. He made afigure worthy of a painter as he paced along before us, perched on theback of his mule, and enveloped in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which somecharitable person had given him at the fort. This extraordinary garment, which would have contained two men of his size, he chose, for somereason best known to himself, to wear inside out, and he never took itoff, even in the hottest weather. It was fluttering all over with seamsand tatters, and the hide was so old and rotten that it broke out everyday in a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red curls wasvisible, with his little cap set jauntily upon one side, to give hima military air. His seat in the saddle was no less remarkable than hisperson and equipment. He pressed one leg close against his mule's side, and thrust the other out at an angle of 45 degrees. His pantaloons weredecorated with a military red stripe, of which he was extremely vain;but being much too short, the whole length of his boots was usuallyvisible below them. His blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, dangled at the back of his saddle, where he carried it tied with astring. Four or five times a day it would fall to the ground. Every fewminutes he would drop his pipe, his knife, his flint and steel, or apiece of tobacco, and have to scramble down to pick them up. In doingthis he would contrive to get in everybody's way; and as the most of theparty were by no means remarkable for a fastidious choice of language, astorm of anathemas would be showered upon him, half in earnest and halfin jest, until Tete Rouge would declare that there was no comfort inlife, and that he never saw such fellows before. 

Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort Henry Chatillon rode forwardto hunt, and took Ellis along with him. After they had been some timeabsent we saw them coming down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, which had escaped from their owners on the march, or perhaps had givenout and been abandoned. One of them was in tolerable condition, but theothers were much emaciated and severely bitten by the wolves. Reduced asthey were we carried two of them to the settlements, and Henry exchangedthe third with the Arapahoes for an excellent mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at noon, a long train ofSanta Fe wagons came up and trailed slowly past us in their picturesqueprocession. They belonged to a trader named Magoffin, whose brother, with a number of other men, came over and sat down around us on thegrass. The news they brought was not of the most pleasing complexion. According to their accounts, the trail below was in a very dangerousstate. They had repeatedly detected Indians prowling at night aroundtheir camps; and the large party which had left Bent's Fort a few weeksprevious to our own departure had been attacked, and a man named Swan, from Massachusetts, had been killed. His companions had buried the body;but when Magoffin found his grave, which was near a place called theCaches, the Indians had dug up and scalped him, and the wolves hadshockingly mangled his remains. As an offset to this intelligence, theygave us the welcome information that the buffalo were numerous at a fewdays' journey below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of the river, we sawthe white tops of wagons on the horizon. It was some hours before wemet them, when they proved to be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quitedifferent from the rakish vehicles of the Santa Fe traders, and loadedwith government stores for the troops. They all stopped, and the driversgathered around us in a crowd. I thought that the whole frontier mighthave been ransacked in vain to furnish men worse fitted to meet thedangers of the prairie. Many of them were mere boys, fresh from theplow, and devoid of knowledge and experience. In respect to the stateof the trail, they confirmed all that the Santa Fe men had told us. In passing between the Pawnee Fork and the Caches, their sentinels hadfired every night at real or imaginary Indians. They said also thatEwing, a young Kentuckian in the party that had gone down before us, hadshot an Indian who was prowling at evening about the camp. Some of themadvised us to turn back, and others to hasten forward as fast as wecould; but they all seemed in such a state of feverish anxiety, and solittle capable of cool judgment, that we attached slight weight to whatthey said. They next gave us a more definite piece of intelligence;a large village of Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. Theyrepresented them to be quite friendly; but some distinction was to bemade between a party of thirty men, traveling with oxen, which are ofno value in an Indian's eyes and a mere handful like ourselves, with atempting band of mules and horses. This story of the Arapahoes thereforecaused us some anxiety. 

Just after leaving the government wagons, as Shaw and I were ridingalong a narrow passage between the river bank and a rough hill thatpressed close upon it, we heard Tete Rouge's voice behind us. "Hallo!"he called out; "I say, stop the cart just for a minute, will you?"

"What's the matter, Tete?" asked Shaw, as he came riding up to us with agrin of exultation. He had a bottle of molasses in one hand, and a largebundle of hides on the saddle before him, containing, as he triumphantlyinformed us, sugar, biscuits, coffee, and rice. These supplies he hadobtained by a stratagem on which he greatly plumed himself, and he wasextremely vexed and astonished that we did not fall in with his views ofthe matter. He had told Coates, the master-wagoner, that the commissaryat the fort had given him an order for sick-rations, directed to themaster of any government train which he might meet upon the road. Thisorder he had unfortunately lost, but he hoped that the rations wouldnot be refused on that account, as he was suffering from coarse fare andneeded them very much. As soon as he came to camp that night Tete Rougerepaired to the box at the back of the cart, where Delorier used tokeep his culinary apparatus, took possession of a saucepan, and afterbuilding a little fire of his own, set to work preparing a meal out ofhis ill-gotten booty. This done, he seized on a tin plate and spoon, andsat down under the cart to regale himself. His preliminary repast didnot at all prejudice his subsequent exertions at supper; where, in spiteof his miniature dimensions, he made a better figure than any of us. Indeed, about this time his appetite grew quite voracious. He began tothrive wonderfully. His small body visibly expanded, and his cheeks, which when we first took him were rather yellow and cadaverous, nowdilated in a wonderful manner, and became ruddy in proportion. TeteRouge, in short, began to appear like another man. 

Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along the edge of thehorizon in front, we saw that at one point it was faintly marked withpale indentations, like the teeth of a saw. The lodges of the Arapahoes, rising between us and the sky, caused this singular appearance. Itwanted still two or three hours of sunset when we came opposite theircamp. There were full two hundred lodges standing in the midst of agrassy meadow at some distance beyond the river, while for a mile aroundand on either bank of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hundredhorses and mules grazing together in bands, or wandering singly aboutthe prairie. The whole were visible at once, for the vast expanse wasunbroken by hills, and there was not a tree or a bush to intercept theview. 

Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in watching the horses. Nosooner did we see them than Tete Rouge begged Delorier to stop the cartand hand him his little military jacket, which was stowed away there. Inthis he instantly invested himself, having for once laid the old buffalocoat aside, assumed a most martial posture in the saddle, set his capover his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly entreated thatsomebody would lend him a gun or a pistol only for half an hour. Beingcalled upon to explain these remarkable proceedings, Tete Rouge observedthat he knew from experience what effect the presence of a military manin his uniform always had upon the mind of an Indian, and he thought theArapahoes ought to know that there was a soldier in the party. 

Meeting Arapahoes here on the Arkansas was a very different thing frommeeting the same Indians among their native mountains. There was anothercircumstance in our favor. General Kearny had seen them a few weeksbefore, as he came up the river with his army, and renewing his threatsof the previous year, he told them that if they ever again touchedthe hair of a white man's head he would exterminate their nation. Thisplaced them for the time in an admirable frame of mind, and the effectof his menaces had not yet disappeared. I was anxious to see the villageand its inhabitants. We thought it also our best policy to visit themopenly, as if unsuspicious of any hostile design; and Shaw and I, withHenry Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. The rest of the partymeanwhile moved forward as fast as they could, in order to get as far aspossible from our suspicious neighbors before night came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred miles below, isnothing but a broad sand-bed, over which a few scanty threads of waterare swiftly gliding, now and then expanding into wide shallows. Atseveral places, during the autumn, the water sinks into the sand anddisappears altogether. At this season, were it not for the numerousquicksands, the river might be forded almost anywhere withoutdifficulty, though its channel is often a quarter of a mile wide. Ourhorses jumped down the bank, and wading through the water, or gallopingfreely over the hard sand-beds, soon reached the other side. Here, as wewere pushing through the tall grass, we saw several Indians not faroff; one of them waited until we came up, and stood for some momentsin perfect silence before us, looking at us askance with his littlesnakelike eyes. Henry explained by signs what we wanted, and the Indian, gathering his buffalo robe about his shoulders, led the way toward thevillage without speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its pronunciations soharsh and guttural, that no white man, it is said, has ever been ableto master it. Even Maxwell the trader, who has been most among them, iscompelled to resort to the curious sign language common to most of theprairie tribes. With this Henry Chatillon was perfectly acquainted. 

Approaching the village, we found the ground all around it strewn withgreat piles of waste buffalo meat in incredible quantities. The lodgeswere pitched in a very wide circle. They resembled those of the Dakotain everything but cleanliness and neatness. Passing between two of them, we entered the great circular area of the camp, and instantly hundredsof Indians, men, women and children, came flocking out of theirhabitations to look at us; at the same time, the dogs all around thevillage set up a fearful baying. Our Indian guide walked toward thelodge of the chief. Here we dismounted; and loosening the trail-ropesfrom our horses' necks, held them securely, and sat down before theentrance, with our rifles laid across our laps. The chief came outand shook us by the hand. He was a mean-looking fellow, very tall, thin-visaged, and sinewy, like the rest of the nation, and with scarcelya vestige of clothing. We had not been seated half a minute before amultitude of Indians came crowding around us from every part of thevillage, and we were shut in by a dense wall of savage faces. Some ofthe Indians crouched around us on the ground; others again sat behindthem; others, stooping, looked over their heads; while many more stoodcrowded behind, stretching themselves upward, and peering over eachother's shoulders, to get a view of us. I looked in vain among thismultitude of faces to discover one manly or generous expression; allwere wolfish, sinister, and malignant, and their complexions, as wellas their features, unlike those of the Dakota, were exceedingly bad. The chief, who sat close to the entrance, called to a squaw within thelodge, who soon came out and placed a wooden bowl of meat before us. Toour surprise, however, no pipe was offered. Having tasted of the meat asa matter of form, I began to open a bundle of presents--tobacco, knives, vermilion, and other articles which I had brought with me. At this therewas a grin on every countenance in the rapacious crowd; their eyes beganto glitter, and long thin arms were eagerly stretched toward us on allsides to receive the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, which they transmitcarefully from father to son. I wished to get one of them; anddisplaying a large piece of scarlet cloth, together with some tobaccoand a knife, I offered them to any one who would bring me what I wanted. After some delay a tolerable shield was produced. They were very anxiousto know what we meant to do with it, and Henry told them that we weregoing to fight their enemies, the Pawnees. This instantly produced avisible impression in our favor, which was increased by the distributionof the presents. Among these was a large paper of awls, a giftappropriate to the women; and as we were anxious to see the beautiesof the Arapahoe village Henry requested that they might be called toreceive them. A warrior gave a shout as if he were calling a pack ofdogs together. The squaws, young and old, hags of eighty and girls ofsixteen, came running with screams and laughter out of the lodges; andas the men gave way for them they gathered round us and stretched outtheir arms, grinning with delight, their native ugliness considerablyenhanced by the excitement of the moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole interview we had held closeto us, we prepared to leave the Arapahoes. The crowd fell back on eachside and stood looking on. When we were half across the camp an ideaoccurred to us. The Pawnees were probably in the neighborhood of theCaches; we might tell the Arapahoes of this and instigate them to senddown a war party and cut them off, while we ourselves could remainbehind for a while and hunt the buffalo. At first thought this plan ofsetting our enemies to destroy one another seemed to us a masterpiece ofpolicy; but we immediately recollected that should we meet the Arapahoewarriors on the river below they might prove quite as dangerous asthe Pawnees themselves. So rejecting our plan as soon as it presenteditself, we passed out of the village on the farther side. We urged ourhorses rapidly through the tall grass which rose to their necks. SeveralIndians were walking through it at a distance, their heads just visibleabove its waving surface. It bore a kind of seed as sweet and nutritiousas oats; and our hungry horses, in spite of whip and rein, could notresist the temptation of snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passedalong. When about a mile from the village I turned and looked back overthe undulating ocean of grass. The sun was just set; the western sky wasall in a glow, and sharply defined against it, on the extreme verge ofthe plain, stood the numerous lodges of the Arapahoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for some distancefarther, until we discerned through the twilight the white coveringof our little cart on the opposite bank. When we reached it we founda considerable number of Indians there before us. Four or five of themwere seated in a row upon the ground, looking like so many half-starvedvultures. Tete Rouge, in his uniform, was holding a close colloquy withanother by the side of the cart. His gesticulations, his attemptsat sign-making, and the contortions of his countenance, were mostludicrous; and finding all these of no avail, he tried to make theIndian understand him by repeating English words very loudly anddistinctly again and again. The Indian sat with his eye fixed steadilyupon him, and in spite of the rigid immobility of his features, it wasclear at a glance that he perfectly understood his military companion'scharacter and thoroughly despised him. The exhibition was more amusingthan politic, and Tete Rouge was directed to finish what he had to sayas soon as possible. Thus rebuked, he crept under the cart and sat downthere; Henry Chatillon stopped to look at him in his retirement, andremarked in his quiet manner that an Indian would kill ten such men andlaugh all the time. 

One by one our visitors rose and stalked away. As the darkness thickenedwe were saluted by dismal sounds. The wolves are incredibly numerousin this part of the country, and the offal around the Arapahoe camp haddrawn such multitudes of them together that several hundred were howlingin concert in our immediate neighborhood. There was an island inthe river, or rather an oasis in the midst of the sands at about thedistance of a gunshot, and here they seemed gathered in the greatestnumbers. A horrible discord of low mournful wailings, mingled withferocious howls, arose from it incessantly for several hours aftersunset. We could distinctly see the wolves running about the prairiewithin a few rods of our fire, or bounding over the sand-beds of theriver and splashing through the water. There was not the slightestdanger to be feared from them, for they are the greatest cowards on theprairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, we felt much lessat our ease. We seldom erected our tent except in bad weather, and thatnight each man spread his buffalo robe upon the ground with his loadedrifle laid at his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses were picketedso close around us that one of them repeatedly stepped over me as I lay. We were not in the habit of placing a guard, but every man that nightwas anxious and watchful; there was little sound sleeping in camp, andsome one of the party was on his feet during the greater part of thetime. For myself, I lay alternately waking and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was reposing close to the river bank, and about this time, when half asleep and half awake, I was conscious that he shifted hisposition and crept on all-fours under the cart. Soon after I fell intoa sound sleep from which I was aroused by a hand shaking me by theshoulder. Looking up, I saw Tete Rouge stooping over me with his facequite pale and his eyes dilated to their utmost expansion. 

"What's the matter?" said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river bank, something caughthis eye which excited his suspicions. So creeping under the cart forsafety's sake he sat there and watched, when he saw two Indians, wrappedin white robes, creep up the bank, seize upon two horses and lead themoff. He looked so frightened, and told his story in such a disconnectedmanner, that I did not believe him, and was unwilling to alarm theparty. Still it might be true, and in that case the matter requiredinstant attention. There would be no time for examination, and sodirecting Tete Rouge to show me which way the Indians had gone, I tookmy rifle, in obedience to a thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. Ifollowed the river back for two or three hundred yards, listening andlooking anxiously on every side. In the dark prairie on the right Icould discern nothing to excite alarm; and in the dusky bed of theriver, a wolf was bounding along in a manner which no Indian couldimitate. I returned to the camp, and when within sight of it, saw thatthe whole party was aroused. Shaw called out to me that he had countedthe horses, and that every one of them was in his place. Tete Rouge, being examined as to what he had seen, only repeated his former storywith many asseverations, and insisted that two horses were certainlycarried off. At this Jim Gurney declared that he was crazy; Tete Rougeindignantly denied the charge, on which Jim appealed to us. As wedeclined to give our judgment on so delicate a matter, the dispute grewhot between Tete Rouge and his accuser, until he was directed to go tobed and not alarm the camp again if he saw the whole Arapahoe villagecoming. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CHASE

The country before us was now thronged with buffalo, and a sketch of themanner of hunting them will not be out of place. There are two methodscommonly practiced, "running" and "approaching. " The chase on horseback, which goes by the name of "running, " is the more violent and dashingmode of the two. Indeed, of all American wild sports, this is thewildest. Once among the buffalo, the hunter, unless long use has madehim familiar with the situation, dashes forward in utter recklessnessand self-abandonment. He thinks of nothing, cares for nothing butthe game; his mind is stimulated to the highest pitch, yet intenselyconcentrated on one object. In the midst of the flying herd, where theuproar and the dust are thickest, it never wavers for a moment; he dropsthe rein and abandons his horse to his furious career; he levels hisgun, the report sounds faint amid the thunder of the buffalo; and whenhis wounded enemy leaps in vain fury upon him, his heart thrills witha feeling like the fierce delight of the battlefield. A practiced andskillful hunter, well mounted, will sometimes kill five or six cows ina single chase, loading his gun again and again as his horse rushesthrough the tumult. An exploit like this is quite beyond the capacitiesof a novice. In attacking a small band of buffalo, or in separating asingle animal from the herd and assailing it apart from the rest, thereis less excitement and less danger. With a bold and well trained horsethe hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that as they gallop side byside he may reach over and touch him with his hand; nor is there muchdanger in this as long as the buffalo's strength and breath continueunabated; but when he becomes tired and can no longer run at ease, whenhis tongue lolls out and foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter hadbetter keep at a more respectful distance; the distressed brute may turnupon him at any instant; and especially at the moment when he fires hisgun. The wounded buffalo springs at his enemy; the horse leaps violentlyaside; and then the hunter has need of a tenacious seat in the saddle, for if he is thrown to the ground there is no hope for him. When he seeshis attack defeated the buffalo resumes his flight, but if the shot bewell directed he soon stops; for a few moments he stands still, thentotters and falls heavily upon the prairie. 

The chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems to me, is that ofloading the gun or pistol at full gallop. Many hunters for convenience'sake carry three or four bullets in the mouth; the powder is poureddown the muzzle of the piece, the bullet dropped in after it, the stockstruck hard upon the pommel of the saddle, and the work is done. Thedanger of this method is obvious. Should the blow on the pommel fail tosend the bullet home, or should the latter, in the act of aiming, startfrom its place and roll toward the muzzle, the gun would probably burstin discharging. Many a shattered hand and worse casualties besides havebeen the result of such an accident. To obviate it, some hunters makeuse of a ramrod, usually hung by a string from the neck, but thismaterially increases the difficulty of loading. The bows and arrowswhich the Indians use in running buffalo have many advantages over firearms, and even white men occasionally employ them. 

The danger of the chase arises not so much from the onset of the woundedanimal as from the nature of the ground which the hunter must rideover. The prairie does not always present a smooth, level, and uniformsurface; very often it is broken with hills and hollows, intersected byravines, and in the remoter parts studded by the stiff wild-sage bushes. The most formidable obstructions, however, are the burrows of wildanimals, wolves, badgers, and particularly prairie dogs, with whoseholes the ground for a very great extent is frequently honeycombed. In the blindness of the chase the hunter rushes over it unconscious ofdanger; his horse, at full career, thrusts his leg deep into one of theburrows; the bone snaps, the rider is hurled forward to the ground andprobably killed. Yet accidents in buffalo running happen less frequentlythan one would suppose; in the recklessness of the chase, the hunterenjoys all the impunity of a drunken man, and may ride in safety overthe gullies and declivities where, should he attempt to pass in hissober senses, he would infallibly break his neck. 

The method of "approaching, " being practiced on foot, has manyadvantages over that of "running"; in the former, one neither breaksdown his horse nor endangers his own life; instead of yielding toexcitement he must be cool, collected, and watchful; he must understandthe buffalo, observe the features of the country and the course of thewind, and be well skilled, moreover, in using the rifle. The buffalo arestrange animals; sometimes they are so stupid and infatuated that a manmay walk up to them in full sight on the open prairie, and even shootseveral of their number before the rest will think it necessary toretreat. Again at another moment they will be so shy and wary, that inorder to approach them the utmost skill, experience, and judgment arenecessary. Kit Carson, I believe, stands pre-eminent in runningbuffalo; in approaching, no man living can bear away the palm from HenryChatillon. 

To resume the story: After Tete Rouge had alarmed the camp, no furtherdisturbance occurred during the night. The Arapahoes did not attemptmischief, or if they did the wakefulness of the party deterred themfrom effecting their purpose. The next day was one of activity andexcitement, for about ten o'clock the men in advance shouted thegladdening cry of "Buffalo, buffalo!" and in the hollow of the prairiejust below us, a band of bulls were grazing. The temptation wasirresistible, and Shaw and I rode down upon them. We were badly mountedon our traveling horses, but by hard lashing we overtook them, andShaw, running alongside of a bull, shot into him both balls of hisdouble-barreled gun. Looking round as I galloped past, I saw the bull inhis mortal fury rushing again and again upon his antagonist, whosehorse constantly leaped aside, and avoided the onset. My chase was moreprotracted, but at length I ran close to the bull and killed him withmy pistols. Cutting off the tails of our victims by way of trophy, werejoined the party in about a quarter of an hour after we left it. Again and again that morning rang out the same welcome cry of "Buffalo, buffalo!" Every few moments in the broad meadows along the river, wewould see bands of bulls, who, raising their shaggy heads, would gaze instupid amazement at the approaching horsemen, and then breaking into aclumsy gallop, would file off in a long line across the trail in front, toward the rising prairie on the left. At noon, the whole plain beforeus was alive with thousands of buffalo--bulls, cows, and calves--allmoving rapidly as we drew near; and far-off beyond the river theswelling prairie was darkened with them to the very horizon. The partywas in gayer spirits than ever. We stopped for a nooning near a grove oftrees by the river side. 

"Tongues and hump ribs to-morrow, " said Shaw, looking with contempt atthe venison steaks which Delorier placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay down under a temporary awning to sleep. A shout from HenryChatillon aroused us, and we saw him standing on the cartwheelstretching his tall figure to its full height while he looked toward theprairie beyond the river. Following the direction of his eyes we couldclearly distinguish a large dark object, like the black shadow of acloud, passing rapidly over swell after swell of the distant plain;behind it followed another of similar appearance though smaller. Itsmotion was more rapid, and it drew closer and closer to the first. Itwas the hunters of the Arapahoe camp pursuing a band of buffalo. Shawand I hastily sought and saddled our best horses, and went plungingthrough sand and water to the farther bank. We were too late. Thehunters had already mingled with the herd, and the work of slaughter wasnearly over. When we reached the ground we found it strewn far andnear with numberless black carcasses, while the remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, were flying away in terror, and the Indiansstill rushing in pursuit. Many of the hunters, however, remained uponthe spot, and among the rest was our yesterday's acquaintance, the chiefof the village. He had alighted by the side of a cow, into which hehad shot five or six arrows, and his squaw, who had followed him onhorseback to the hunt, was giving him a draught of water out of acanteen, purchased or plundered from some volunteer soldier. Recrossingthe river we overtook the party, who were already on their way. 

We had scarcely gone a mile when an imposing spectacle presented itself. From the river bank on the right, away over the swelling prairie on theleft, and in front as far as we could see, extended one vast host ofbuffalo. The outskirts of the herd were within a quarter of a mile. Inmany parts they were crowded so densely together that in the distancetheir rounded backs presented a surface of uniform blackness; butelsewhere they were more scattered, and from amid the multitude roselittle columns of dust where the buffalo were rolling on the ground. Here and there a great confusion was perceptible, where a battle wasgoing forward among the bulls. We could distinctly see them rushingagainst each other, and hear the clattering of their horns and theirhoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding at some distance in advance, withHenry Chatillon; I saw him stop and draw the leather covering from hisgun. Indeed, with such a sight before us, but one thing could be thoughtof. That morning I had used pistols in the chase. I had now a mind totry the virtue of a gun. Delorier had one, and I rode up to the side ofthe cart; there he sat under the white covering, biting his pipe betweenhis teeth and grinning with excitement. 

"Lend me your gun, Delorier, " said I. 

"Oui, monsieur, oui, " said Delorier, tugging with might and main tostop the mule, which seemed obstinately bent on going forward. Theneverything but his moccasins disappeared as he crawled into the cart andpulled at the gun to extricate it. 

"Is it loaded?" I asked. 

"Oui, bien charge; you'll kill, mon bourgeois; yes, you'll kill--c'estun bon fusil. "

I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 

"Are you ready?" he asked. 

"Come on, " said I. 

"Keep down that hollow, " said Henry, "and then they won't see you tillyou get close to them. "

The hollow was a kind of ravine very wide and shallow; it ran obliquelytoward the buffalo, and we rode at a canter along the bottom until itbecame too shallow, when we bent close to our horses' necks, and thenfinding that it could no longer conceal us, came out of it and rodedirectly toward the herd. It was within gunshot; before its outskirts, numerous grizzly old bulls were scattered, holding guard over theirfemales. They glared at us in anger and astonishment, walked toward usa few yards, and then turning slowly round retreated at a trot whichafterward broke into a clumsy gallop. In an instant the main body caughtthe alarm. The buffalo began to crowd away from the point toward whichwe were approaching, and a gap was opened in the side of the herd. Weentered it, still restraining our excited horses. Every instant thetumult was thickening. The buffalo, pressing together in large bodies, crowded away from us on every hand. In front and on either side we couldsee dark columns and masses, half hidden by clouds of dust, rushingalong in terror and confusion, and hear the tramp and clattering of tenthousand hoofs. That countless multitude of powerful brutes, ignorantof their own strength, were flying in a panic from the approach of twofeeble horsemen. To remain quiet longer was impossible. 

"Take that band on the left, " said Shaw; "I'll take these in front. "

He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A heavy Indian whip wasfastened by a band to my wrist; I swung it into the air and lashedmy horse's flank with all the strength of my arm. Away she darted, stretching close to the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud ofdust before me, but I knew that it concealed a band of many hundreds ofbuffalo. In a moment I was in the midst of the cloud, half suffocatedby the dust and stunned by the trampling of the flying herd; but I wasdrunk with the chase and cared for nothing but the buffalo. Very soona long dark mass became visible, looming through the dust; then I coulddistinguish each bulky carcass, the hoofs flying out beneath, the shorttails held rigidly erect. In a moment I was so close that I could havetouched them with my gun. Suddenly, to my utter amazement, the hoofswere jerked upward, the tails flourished in the air, and amid a cloudof dust the buffalo seemed to sink into the earth before me. One vividimpression of that instant remains upon my mind. I remember looking downupon the backs of several buffalo dimly visible through the dust. We hadrun unawares upon a ravine. At that moment I was not the most accuratejudge of depth and width, but when I passed it on my return, I found itabout twelve feet deep and not quite twice as wide at the bottom. Itwas impossible to stop; I would have done so gladly if I could; so, halfsliding, half plunging, down went the little mare. I believe she camedown on her knees in the loose sand at the bottom; I was pitched forwardviolently against her neck and nearly thrown over her head among thebuffalo, who amid dust and confusion came tumbling in all around. Themare was on her feet in an instant and scrambling like a cat up theopposite side. I thought for a moment that she would have fallen backand crushed me, but with a violent effort she clambered out and gainedthe hard prairie above. Glancing back I saw the huge head of a bullclinging as it were by the forefeet at the edge of the dusty gulf. Atlength I was fairly among the buffalo. They were less densely crowdedthan before, and I could see nothing but bulls, who always run at therear of the herd. As I passed amid them they would lower their heads, and turning as they ran, attempt to gore my horse; but as they werealready at full speed there was no force in their onset, and as Paulineran faster than they, they were always thrown behind her in the effort. I soon began to distinguish cows amid the throng. One just in front ofme seemed to my liking, and I pushed close to her side. Dropping thereins I fired, holding the muzzle of the gun within a foot of hershoulder. Quick as lightning she sprang at Pauline; the little maredodged the attack, and I lost sight of the wounded animal amid thetumultuous crowd. Immediately after I selected another, and urgingforward Pauline, shot into her both pistols in succession. For a whileI kept her in view, but in attempting to load my gun, lost sight of heralso in the confusion. Believing her to be mortally wounded and unableto keep up with the herd, I checked my horse. The crowd rushed onward. The dust and tumult passed away, and on the prairie, far behind therest, I saw a solitary buffalo galloping heavily. In a moment I and myvictim were running side by side. My firearms were all empty, and I hadin my pouch nothing but rifle bullets, too large for the pistols andtoo small for the gun. I loaded the latter, however, but as often as Ileveled it to fire, the little bullets would roll out of the muzzleand the gun returned only a faint report like a squib, as the powderharmlessly exploded. I galloped in front of the buffalo and attempted toturn her back; but her eyes glared, her mane bristled, and lowering herhead, she rushed at me with astonishing fierceness and activity. Againand again I rode before her, and again and again she repeated herfurious charge. But little Pauline was in her element. She dodged herenemy at every rush, until at length the buffalo stood still, exhaustedwith her own efforts; she panted, and her tongue hung lolling from herjaws. 

Riding to a little distance I alighted, thinking to gather a handfulof dry grass to serve the purpose of wadding, and load the gun at myleisure. No sooner were my feet on the ground than the buffalo camebounding in such a rage toward me that I jumped back again into thesaddle with all possible dispatch. After waiting a few minutes more, I made an attempt to ride up and stab her with my knife; but theexperiment proved such as no wise man would repeat. At length, bethinking me of the fringes at the seams of my buckskin pantaloons, I jerked off a few of them, and reloading my gun, forced them down thebarrel to keep the bullet in its place; then approaching, I shot thewounded buffalo through the heart. Sinking to her knees, she rolled overlifeless on the prairie. To my astonishment, I found that instead ofa fat cow I had been slaughtering a stout yearling bull. No longerwondering at the fierceness he had shown, I opened his throat andcutting out his tongue, tied it at the back of my saddle. My mistake wasone which a more experienced eye than mine might easily make in the dustand confusion of such a chase. 

Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the scene around me. The prairie in front was darkened with the retreating multitude, and onthe other hand the buffalo came filing up in endless unbroken columnsfrom the low plains upon the river. The Arkansas was three or four milesdistant. I turned and moved slowly toward it. A long time passed before, far down in the distance, I distinguished the white covering of the cartand the little black specks of horsemen before and behind it. Drawingnear, I recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel shirt, conspicuous far off. I overtook the party, and asked him what success hehad met with. He had assailed a fat cow, shot her with two bullets, andmortally wounded her. But neither of us were prepared for the chase thatafternoon, and Shaw, like myself, had no spare bullets in his pouch;so he abandoned the disabled animal to Henry Chatillon, who followed, dispatched her with his rifle, and loaded his horse with her meat. 

We encamped close to the river. The night was dark, and as we lay downwe could hear mingled with the howling of wolves the hoarse bellowing ofthe buffalo, like the ocean beating upon a distant coast. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE BUFFALO CAMP

No one in the camp was more active than Jim Gurney, and no one halfso lazy as Ellis. Between these two there was a great antipathy. Ellisnever stirred in the morning until he was compelled to, but Jim wasalways on his feet before daybreak; and this morning as usual the soundof his voice awakened the party. 

"Get up, you booby! up with you now, you're fit for nothing but eatingand sleeping. Stop your grumbling and come out of that buffalo robe orI'll pull it off for you. "

Jim's words were interspersed with numerous expletives, which gave themgreat additional effect. Ellis drawled out something in a nasal tonefrom among the folds of his buffalo robe; then slowly disengagedhimself, rose into sitting posture, stretched his long arms, yawnedhideously, and finally, raising his tall person erect, stood staringround him to all the four quarters of the horizon. Delorier's fire wassoon blazing, and the horses and mules, loosened from their pickets, were feeding in the neighboring meadow. When we sat down to breakfastthe prairie was still in the dusky light of morning; and as the sun rosewe were mounted and on our way again. 

"A white buffalo!" exclaimed Munroe. 

"I'll have that fellow, " said Shaw, "if I run my horse to death afterhim. "

He threw the cover of his gun to Delorier and galloped out upon theprairie. 

"Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop!" called out Henry Chatillon, "you'll run downyour horse for nothing; it's only a white ox. "

But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, who had no doubt strayedaway from some of the government wagon trains, was standing beneath somelow hills which bounded the plain in the distance. Not far from him aband of veritable buffalo bulls were grazing; and startled at Shaw'sapproach, they all broke into a run, and went scrambling up thehillsides to gain the high prairie above. One of them in his haste andterror involved himself in a fatal catastrophe. Along the foot ofthe hills was a narrow strip of deep marshy soil, into which the bullplunged and hopelessly entangled himself. We all rode up to the spot. The huge carcass was half sunk in the mud, which flowed to his verychin, and his shaggy mane was outspread upon the surface. As we camenear the bull began to struggle with convulsive strength; he writhedto and fro, and in the energy of his fright and desperation would lifthimself for a moment half out of the slough, while the reluctant mirereturned a sucking sound as he strained to drag his limbs from itstenacious depths. We stimulated his exertions by getting behind him andtwisting his tail; nothing would do. There was clearly no hope for him. After every effort his heaving sides were more deeply imbedded and themire almost overflowed his nostrils; he lay still at length, and lookinground at us with a furious eye, seemed to resign himself to his fate. Ellis slowly dismounted, and deliberately leveling his boasted yager, shot the old bull through the heart; then he lazily climbed back againto his seat, pluming himself no doubt on having actually killed abuffalo. That day the invincible yager drew blood for the first and lasttime during the whole journey. 

The morning was a bright and gay one, and the air so clear that on thefarthest horizon the outline of the pale blue prairie was sharply drawnagainst the sky. Shaw felt in the mood for hunting; he rode in advanceof the party, and before long we saw a file of bulls galloping at fullspeed upon a vast green swell of the prairie at some distance in front. Shaw came scouring along behind them, arrayed in his red shirt, whichlooked very well in the distance; he gained fast on the fugitives, andas the foremost bull was disappearing behind the summit of the swell, we saw him in the act of assailing the hindmost; a smoke sprang from themuzzle of his gun, and floated away before the wind like a littlewhite cloud; the bull turned upon him, and just then the rising groundconcealed them both from view. 

We were moving forward until about noon, when we stopped by the side ofthe Arkansas. At that moment Shaw appeared riding slowly down the sideof a distant hill; his horse was tired and jaded, and when he threwhis saddle upon the ground, I observed that the tails of two bulls weredangling behind it. No sooner were the horses turned loose to feed thanHenry, asking Munroe to go with him, took his rifle and walked quietlyaway. Shaw, Tete Rouge, and I sat down by the side of the cart todiscuss the dinner which Delorier placed before us; we had scarcelyfinished when we saw Munroe walking toward us along the river bank. Henry, he said, had killed four fat cows, and had sent him back forhorses to bring in the meat. Shaw took a horse for himself and anotherfor Henry, and he and Munroe left the camp together. After a shortabsence all three of them came back, their horses loaded with thechoicest parts of the meat; we kept two of the cows for ourselves andgave the others to Munroe and his companions. Delorier seated himselfon the grass before the pile of meat, and worked industriously forsome time to cut it into thin broad sheets for drying. This is no easymatter, but Delorier had all the skill of an Indian squaw. Long beforenight cords of raw hide were stretched around the camp, and the meat washung upon them to dry in the sunshine and pure air of the prairie. Our California companions were less successful at the work; but theyaccomplished it after their own fashion, and their side of the camp wassoon garnished in the same manner as our own. 

We meant to remain at this place long enough to prepare provisions forour journey to the frontier, which as we supposed might occupy about amonth. Had the distance been twice as great and the party ten times aslarge, the unerring rifle of Henry Chatillon would have suppliedmeat enough for the whole within two days; we were obliged to remain, however, until it should be dry enough for transportation; so we erectedour tent and made the other arrangements for a permanent camp. TheCalifornia men, who had no such shelter, contented themselves witharranging their packs on the grass around their fire. In the meantime wehad nothing to do but amuse ourselves. Our tent was within a rod of theriver, if the broad sand-beds, with a scanty stream of water coursinghere and there along their surface, deserve to be dignified with thename of river. The vast flat plains on either side were almost on alevel with the sand-beds, and they were bounded in the distance by low, monotonous hills, parallel to the course of the Arkansas. All was oneexpanse of grass; there was no wood in view, except some trees andstunted bushes upon two islands which rose from amid the wet sands ofthe river. Yet far from being dull and tame this boundless scene wasoften a wild and animated one; for twice a day, at sunrise and at noon, the buffalo came issuing from the hills, slowly advancing in their graveprocessions to drink at the river. All our amusements were too at theirexpense. Except an elephant, I have seen no animal that can surpass abuffalo bull in size and strength, and the world may be searched in vainto find anything of a more ugly and ferocious aspect. At first sight ofhim every feeling of sympathy vanishes; no man who has not experiencedit can understand with what keen relish one inflicts his death wound, with what profound contentment of mind he beholds him fall. The cows aremuch smaller and of a gentler appearance, as becomes their sex. Whilein this camp we forebore to attack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, whocould better judge their fatness and good quality, the task of killingsuch as we wanted for use; but against the bulls we waged an unrelentingwar. Thousands of them might be slaughtered without causing anydetriment to the species, for their numbers greatly exceed those of thecows; it is the hides of the latter alone which are used for purpose ofcommerce and for making the lodges of the Indians; and the destructionamong them is therefore altogether disproportioned. 

Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted on foot. The wide, flatsand-beds of the Arkansas, as the reader will remember, lay close bythe side of our camp. While we were lying on the grass after dinner, smoking, conversing, or laughing at Tete Rouge, one of us would lookup and observe, far out on the plains beyond the river, certain blackobjects slowly approaching. He would inhale a parting whiff from thepipe, then rising lazily, take his rifle, which leaned against the cart, throw over his shoulder the strap of his pouch and powder-horn, andwith his moccasins in his hand walk quietly across the sand toward theopposite side of the river. This was very easy; for though the sandswere about a quarter of a mile wide, the water was nowhere more than twofeet deep. The farther bank was about four or five feet high, and quiteperpendicular, being cut away by the water in spring. Tall grass grewalong its edge. Putting it aside with his hand, and cautiously lookingthrough it, the hunter can discern the huge shaggy back of the buffaloslowly swaying to and fro, as with his clumsy swinging gait he advancestoward the water. The buffalo have regular paths by which they come downto drink. Seeing at a glance along which of these his intended victimis moving, the hunter crouches under the bank within fifteen or twentyyards, it may be, of the point where the path enters the river. Here hesits down quietly on the sand. Listening intently, he hears the heavymonotonous tread of the approaching bull. The moment after he sees amotion among the long weeds and grass just at the spot where the pathis channeled through the bank. An enormous black head is thrust out, the horns just visible amid the mass of tangled mane. Half sliding, halfplunging, down comes the buffalo upon the river-bed below. He stepsout in full sight upon the sands. Just before him a runnel of water isgliding, and he bends his head to drink. You may hear the water as itgurgles down his capacious throat. He raises his head, and the dropstrickle from his wet beard. He stands with an air of stupid abstraction, unconscious of the lurking danger. Noiselessly the hunter cocks hisrifle. As he sits upon the sand, his knee is raised, and his elbow restsupon it, that he may level his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. Thestock is at his shoulder; his eye ranges along the barrel. Still he isin no haste to fire. The bull, with slow deliberation, begins his marchover the sands to the other side. He advances his foreleg, and exposesto view a small spot, denuded of hair, just behind the point of hisshoulder; upon this the hunter brings the sight of his rifle to bear;lightly and delicately his finger presses upon the hair-trigger. Quickas thought the spiteful crack of the rifle responds to his slight touch, and instantly in the middle of the bare spot appears a small red dot. The buffalo shivers; death has overtaken him, he cannot tell fromwhence; still he does not fall, but walks heavily forward, as if nothinghad happened. Yet before he has advanced far out upon the sand, yousee him stop; he totters; his knees bend under him, and his head sinksforward to the ground. Then his whole vast bulk sways to one side; herolls over on the sand, and dies with a scarcely perceptible struggle. 

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting them as they come towater, is the easiest and laziest method of hunting them. They may alsobe approached by crawling up ravines, or behind hills, or even over theopen prairie. This is often surprisingly easy; but at other timesit requires the utmost skill of the most experienced hunter. HenryChatillon was a man of extraordinary strength and hardihood; but I haveseen him return to camp quite exhausted with his efforts, his limbsscratched and wounded, and his buckskin dress stuck full of the thornsof the prickly-pear among which he had been crawling. Sometimes he wouldlay flat upon his face, and drag himself along in this position for manyrods together. 

On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry went out for anafternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained in camp until, observing some bullsapproaching the water upon the other side of the river, we crossed overto attack them. They were so near, however, that before we could getunder cover of the bank our appearance as we walked over the sandsalarmed them. Turning round before coming within gunshot, they began tomove off to the right in a direction parallel to the river. I climbedup the bank and ran after them. They were walking swiftly, and before Icould come within gunshot distance they slowly wheeled about and facedtoward me. Before they had turned far enough to see me I had fallen flaton my face. For a moment they stood and stared at the strange objectupon the grass; then turning away, again they walked on as before; andI, rising immediately, ran once more in pursuit. Again they wheeledabout, and again I fell prostrate. Repeating this three or four times, I came at length within a hundred yards of the fugitives, and as Isaw them turning again I sat down and leveled my rifle. The one in thecenter was the largest I had ever seen. I shot him behind the shoulder. His two companions ran off. He attempted to follow, but soon came toa stand, and at length lay down as quietly as an ox chewing the cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by his dull and jellylike eye that hewas dead. 

When I began the chase, the prairie was almost tenantless; but a greatmultitude of buffalo had suddenly thronged upon it, and looking up, Isaw within fifty rods a heavy, dark column stretching to the right andleft as far as I could see. I walked toward them. My approach did notalarm them in the least. The column itself consisted entirely of cowsand calves, but a great many old bulls were ranging about the prairieon its flank, and as I drew near they faced toward me with such a shaggyand ferocious look that I thought it best to proceed no farther. IndeedI was already within close rifle-shot of the column, and I sat down onthe ground to watch their movements. Sometimes the whole would standstill, their heads all facing one way; then they would trot forward, as if by a common impulse, their hoofs and horns clattering togetheras they moved. I soon began to hear at a distance on the left the sharpreports of a rifle, again and again repeated; and not long after, dulland heavy sounds succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar voiceof Shaw's double-barreled gun. When Henry's rifle was at work there wasalways meat to be brought in. I went back across the river for a horse, and returning, reached the spot where the hunters were standing. Thebuffalo were visible on the distant prairie. The living had retreatedfrom the ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were scattered in variousdirections. Henry, knife in hand, was stooping over a dead cow, cuttingaway the best and fattest of the meat. 

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some distance under the riverbank to find another bull. At length he saw the plains covered withthe host of buffalo, and soon after heard the crack of Henry's rifle. Ascending the bank, he crawled through the grass, which for a rod or twofrom the river was very high and rank. He had not crawled far before tohis astonishment he saw Henry standing erect upon the prairie, almostsurrounded by the buffalo. Henry was in his appropriate element. Nelson, on the deck of the Victory, hardly felt a prouder sense of mastery thanhe. Quite unconscious that any one was looking at him, he stood at thefull height of his tall, strong figure, one hand resting upon his side, and the other arm leaning carelessly on the muzzle of his rifle. Hiseyes were ranging over the singular assemblage around him. Now and thenhe would select such a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and shoot herdead; then quietly reloading, he would resume his former position. Thebuffalo seemed no more to regard his presence than if he were one ofthemselves; the bulls were bellowing and butting at each other, or elserolling about in the dust. A group of buffalo would gather about thecarcass of a dead cow, snuffing at her wounds; and sometimes they wouldcome behind those that had not yet fallen, and endeavor to push themfrom the spot. Now and then some old bull would face toward Henry withan air of stupid amazement, but none seemed inclined to attack or flyfrom him. For some time Shaw lay among the grass, looking in surprise atthis extraordinary sight; at length he crawled cautiously forward, andspoke in a low voice to Henry, who told him to rise and come on. Stillthe buffalo showed no sign of fear; they remained gathered about theirdead companions. Henry had already killed as many cows as we wanted foruse, and Shaw, kneeling behind one of the carcasses, shot five bullsbefore the rest thought it necessary to disperse. 

The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo seems the moreremarkable from the contrast it offers to their wildness and wariness atother times. Henry knew all their peculiarities; he had studied them asa scholar studies his books, and he derived quite as much pleasure fromthe occupation. The buffalo were a kind of companions to him, and, as hesaid, he never felt alone when they were about him. He took great pridein his skill in hunting. Henry was one of the most modest of men; yet, in the simplicity and frankness of his character, it was quite clearthat he looked upon his pre-eminence in this respect as a thing toopalpable and well established ever to be disputed. But whatever may havebeen his estimate of his own skill, it was rather below than above thatwhich others placed upon it. The only time that I ever saw a shade ofscorn darken his face was when two volunteer soldiers, who had justkilled a buffalo for the first time, undertook to instruct him as to thebest method of "approaching. " To borrow an illustration from an oppositeside of life, an Eton boy might as well have sought to enlighten Porsonon the formation of a Greek verb, or a Fleet Street shopkeeper toinstruct Chesterfield concerning a point of etiquette. Henry alwaysseemed to think that he had a sort of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look upon them as something belonging peculiarly to himself. Nothing excited his indignation so much as any wanton destructioncommitted among the cows, and in his view shooting a calf was a cardinalsin. 

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same age; that is, aboutthirty. Henry was twice as large, and fully six times as strong as TeteRouge. Henry's face was roughened by winds and storms; Tete Rouge's wasbloated by sherry cobblers and brandy toddy. Henry talked of Indians andbuffalo; Tete Rouge of theaters and oyster cellars. Henry had led a lifeof hardship and privation; Tete Rouge never had a whim which he wouldnot gratify at the first moment he was able. Henry moreover was themost disinterested man I ever saw; while Tete Rouge, though equallygood-natured in his way, cared for nobody but himself. Yet we wouldnot have lost him on any account; he admirably served the purpose ofa jester in a feudal castle; our camp would have been lifeless withouthim. For the past week he had fattened in a most amazing manner; andindeed this was not at all surprising, since his appetite was mostinordinate. He was eating from morning till night; half the time hewould be at work cooking some private repast for himself, and he paida visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times a day. His rueful anddisconsolate face became jovial and rubicund, his eyes stood out likea lobster's, and his spirits, which before were sunk to the depths ofdespondency, were now elated in proportion; all day he was singing, whistling, laughing, and telling stories. Being mortally afraid of JimGurney, he kept close in the neighborhood of our tent. As he had seen anabundance of low dissipated life, and had a considerable fund ofhumor, his anecdotes were extremely amusing, especially since he neverhesitated to place himself in a ludicrous point of view, provided hecould raise a laugh by doing so. Tete Rouge, however, was sometimesrather troublesome; he had an inveterate habit of pilfering provisionsat all times of the day. He set ridicule at utter defiance; and beingwithout a particle of self-respect, he would never have given over histricks, even if they had drawn upon him the scorn of the whole party. Now and then, indeed, something worse than laughter fell to his share;on these occasions he would exhibit much contrition, but half an hourafter we would generally observe him stealing round to the box at theback of the cart and slyly making off with the provisions which Delorierhad laid by for supper. He was very fond of smoking; but having notobacco of his own, we used to provide him with as much as he wanted, asmall piece at a time. At first we gave him half a pound together, butthis experiment proved an entire failure, for he invariably lost notonly the tobacco, but the knife intrusted to him for cutting it, and afew minutes after he would come to us with many apologies and beg formore. 

We had been two days at this camp, and some of the meat was nearly fitfor transportation, when a storm came suddenly upon us. About sunset thewhole sky grew as black as ink, and the long grass at the river'sedge bent and rose mournfully with the first gusts of the approachinghurricane. Munroe and his two companions brought their guns and placedthem under cover of our tent. Having no shelter for themselves, theybuilt a fire of driftwood that might have defied a cataract, and wrappedin their buffalo robes, sat on the ground around it to bide the fury ofthe storm. Delorier ensconced himself under the cover of the cart. Shawand I, together with Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into the little tent;but first of all the dried meat was piled together, and well protectedby buffalo robes pinned firmly to the ground. About nine o'clock thestorm broke, amid absolute darkness; it blew a gale, and torrents ofrain roared over the boundless expanse of open prairie. Our tent wasfilled with mist and spray beating through the canvas, and saturatingeverything within. We could only distinguish each other at shortintervals by the dazzling flash of lightning, which displayed the wholewaste around us with its momentary glare. We had our fears for the tent;but for an hour or two it stood fast, until at length the cap gave waybefore a furious blast; the pole tore through the top, and in an instantwe were half suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of the canvas, which fell down upon us. Seizing upon our guns, we placed them erect, inorder to lift the saturated cloth above our heads. In this disagreeablesituation, involved among wet blankets and buffalo robes, we spentseveral hours of the night during which the storm would not abate for amoment, but pelted down above our heads with merciless fury. Beforelong the ground beneath us became soaked with moisture, and the watergathered there in a pool two or three inches deep; so that for aconsiderable part of the night we were partially immersed in a coldbath. In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of spirits did not deserthim for an instant, he laughed, whistled, and sung in defiance of thestorm, and that night he paid off the long arrears of ridicule whichhe owed us. While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction with whatphilosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who was intoxicated with animalspirits, was cracking jokes at our expense by the hour together. Atabout three o'clock in the morning, "preferring the tyranny of theopen night" to such a wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath thefallen canvas. The wind had abated, but the rain fell steadily. The fireof the California men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joinedthem as they sat around it. We made ready some hot coffee by way ofrefreshment; but when some of the party sought to replenish their cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share, hadprivately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up the rest of thecontents out of the spout. 

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun rose upon theprairie. We presented rather a laughable appearance, for the cold andclammy buckskin, saturated with water, clung fast to our limbs; thelight wind and warm sunshine soon dried them again, and then we wereall incased in armor of intolerable rigidity. Roaming all day over theprairie and shooting two or three bulls, were scarcely enough to restorethe stiffened leather to its usual pliancy. 

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only hunters in the party. Munroe this morning made an attempt to run a buffalo, but his horsecould not come up to the game. Shaw went out with him, and being bettermounted soon found himself in the midst of the herd. Seeing nothingbut cows and calves around him, he checked his horse. An old bull camegalloping on the open prairie at some distance behind, and turning, Shawrode across his path, leveling his gun as he passed, and shootinghim through the shoulder into the heart. The heavy bullets of Shaw'sdouble-barreled gun made wild work wherever they struck. 

A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about a few treesthat stood on the island just below our camp. Throughout the whole ofyesterday we had noticed an eagle among them; to-day he was stillthere; and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of America, borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on his unpatriotic mission. As mighthave been expected, the eagle suffered no great harm at his hands. Hesoon returned, saying that he could not find him, but had shot a buzzardinstead. Being required to produce the bird in proof of his assertionhe said he believed he was not quite dead, but he must be hurt, from theswiftness with which he flew off. 

"If you want, " said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and get one of his feathers; Iknocked off plenty of them when I shot him. "

Just opposite our camp was another island covered with bushes, andbehind it was a deep pool of water, while two or three considerablestreams course'd over the sand not far off. I was bathing at this placein the afternoon when a white wolf, larger than the largest Newfoundlanddog, ran out from behind the point of the island, and galloped leisurelyover the sand not half a stone's throw distant. I could plainly see hisred eyes and the bristles about his snout; he was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, large head, and a most repulsive countenance. Havingneither rifle to shoot nor stone to pelt him with, I was looking eagerlyafter some missile for his benefit, when the report of a gun came fromthe camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him; at this hegave a slight jump, and stretched away so swiftly that he soon dwindledinto a mere speck on the distant sand-beds. The number of carcasses thatby this time were lying about the prairie all around us summoned thewolves from every quarter; the spot where Shaw and Henry had huntedtogether soon became their favorite resort, for here about a dozen deadbuffalo were fermenting under the hot sun. I used often to go over theriver and watch them at their meal; by lying under the bank it was easyto get a full view of them. Three different kinds were present; therewere the white wolves and the gray wolves, both extremely large, andbesides these the small prairie wolves, not much bigger than spaniels. They would howl and fight in a crowd around a single carcass, yet theywere so watchful, and their senses so acute, that I never was able tocrawl within a fair shooting distance; whenever I attempted it, theywould all scatter at once and glide silently away through the tallgrass. The air above this spot was always full of buzzards or blackvultures; whenever the wolves left a carcass they would descend uponit, and cover it so densely that a rifle-bullet shot at random amongthe gormandizing crowd would generally strike down two or three of them. These birds would now be sailing by scores just about our camp, theirbroad black wings seeming half transparent as they expanded them againstthe bright sky. The wolves and the buzzards thickened about us withevery hour, and two or three eagles also came into the feast. I killed abull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the wolves made a fearfulhowling close at hand, and in the morning the carcass was completelyhollowed out by these voracious feeders. 

After we had remained four days at this camp we prepared to leave it. We had for our own part about five hundred pounds of dried meat, and theCalifornia men had prepared some three hundred more; this consistedof the fattest and choicest parts of eight or nine cows, a very smallquantity only being taken from each, and the rest abandoned to thewolves. The pack animals were laden, the horses were saddled, and themules harnessed to the cart. Even Tete Rouge was ready at last, andslowly moving from the ground, we resumed our journey eastward. Whenwe had advanced about a mile, Shaw missed a valuable hunting knife andturned back in search of it, thinking that he had left it at the camp. He approached the place cautiously, fearful that Indians might belurking about, for a deserted camp is dangerous to return to. He sawno enemy, but the scene was a wild and dreary one; the prairie wasovershadowed by dull, leaden clouds, for the day was dark and gloomy. The ashes of the fires were still smoking by the river side; the grassaround them was trampled down by men and horses, and strewn with all thelitter of a camp. Our departure had been a gathering signal to the birdsand beasts of prey; Shaw assured me that literally dozens of wolves wereprowling about the smoldering fires, while multitudes were roaming overthe prairie around; they all fled as he approached, some running overthe sand-beds and some over the grassy plains. The vultures in greatclouds were soaring overhead, and the dead bull near the camp wascompletely blackened by the flock that had alighted upon it; theyflapped their broad wings, and stretched upward their crested headsand long skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet reluctant to leave theirdisgusting feast. As he searched about the fires he saw the wolvesseated on the distant hills waiting for his departure. Having lookedin vain for his knife, he mounted again, and left the wolves and thevultures to banquet freely upon the carrion of the camp. 

CHAPTER XXVI

DOWN THE ARKANSAS

In the summer of 1846 the wild and lonely banks of the Upper Arkansasbeheld for the first time the passage of an army. General Kearny, on hismarch to Santa Fe, adopted this route in preference to the old trail ofthe Cimarron. When we came down the main body of the troops had alreadypassed on; Price's Missouri regiment, however, was still on the way, having left the frontier much later than the rest; and about this timewe began to meet them moving along the trail, one or two companies ata time. No men ever embarked upon a military expedition with a greaterlove for the work before them than the Missourians; but if disciplineand subordination be the criterion of merit, these soldiers wereworthless indeed. Yet when their exploits have rung through all America, it would be absurd to deny that they were excellent irregular troops. Their victories were gained in the teeth of every established precedentof warfare; they were owing to a singular combination of militaryqualities in the men themselves. Without discipline or a spirit ofsubordination, they knew how to keep their ranks and act as one man. Doniphan's regiment marched through New Mexico more like a band of freecompanions than like the paid soldiers of a modern government. WhenGeneral Taylor complimented Doniphan on his success at Sacramento andelsewhere, the colonel's reply very well illustrates the relations whichsubsisted between the officers and men of his command:

"I don't know anything of the maneuvers. The boys kept coming to me, to let them charge; and when I saw a good opportunity, I told them theymight go. They were off like a shot, and that's all I know about it. "

The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to conciliate the good-will thanto command the obedience of his men. There were many serving under him, who both from character and education could better have held commandthan he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought under every possibledisadvantage. The Mexicans had chosen their own position; they weredrawn up across the valley that led to their native city of Chihuahua;their whole front was covered by intrenchments and defended by batteriesof heavy cannon; they outnumbered the invaders five to one. An eagleflew over the Americans, and a deep murmur rose along their lines. Theenemy's batteries opened; long they remained under fire, but when atlength the word was given, they shouted and ran forward. In one of thedivisions, when midway to the enemy, a drunken officer ordered a halt;the exasperated men hesitated to obey. 

"Forward, boys!" cried a private from the ranks; and the Americans, rushing like tigers upon the enemy, bounded over the breastwork. Fourhundred Mexicans were slain upon the spot and the rest fled, scatteringover the plain like sheep. The standards, cannon, and baggage weretaken, and among the rest a wagon laden with cords, which the Mexicans, in the fullness of their confidence, had made ready for tying theAmerican prisoners. 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, passed up with the mainarmy; but Price's soldiers, whom we now met, were men from the sameneighborhood, precisely similar in character, manner, and appearance. One forenoon, as we were descending upon a very wide meadow, wherewe meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a dark body of horsemenapproaching at a distance. In order to find water, we were obliged toturn aside to the river bank, a full half mile from the trail. Here weput up a kind of awning, and spreading buffalo robes on the ground, Shawand I sat down to smoke beneath it. 

"We are going to catch it now, " said Shaw; "look at those fellows, there'll be no peace for us here. "

And in good truth about half the volunteers had straggled away from theline of march, and were riding over the meadow toward us. 

"How are you?" said the first who came up, alighting from his horse andthrowing himself upon the ground. The rest followed close, and a scoreof them soon gathered about us, some lying at full length and somesitting on horseback. They all belonged to a company raised in St. Louis. There were some ruffian faces among them, and some haggard withdebauchery; but on the whole they were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond measure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. Exceptthat they were booted to the knees, they wore their belts and militarytrappings over the ordinary dress of citizens. Besides their swords andholster pistols, they carried slung from their saddles the excellentSpringfield carbines, loaded at the breech. They inquired the characterof our party, and were anxious to know the prospect of killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses would stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was well enough, but a moment after a worse visitation cameupon us. 

"How are you, strangers? whar are you going and whar are you from?" saida fellow, who came trotting up with an old straw hat on his head. He wasdressed in the coarsest brown homespun cloth. His face was rather sallowfrom fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, though strong and sinewy wasquite thin, and had besides an angular look, which, together with hisboorish seat on horseback, gave him an appearance anything but graceful. Plenty more of the same stamp were close behind him. Their companywas raised in one of the frontier counties, and we soon had abundantevidence of their rustic breeding; dozens of them came crowding round, pushing between our first visitors and staring at us with unabashedfaces. 

"Are you the captain?" asked one fellow. 

"What's your business out here?" asked another. 

"Whar do you live when you're at home?" said a third. 

"I reckon you're traders, " surmised a fourth; and to crown the whole, one of them came confidentially to my side and inquired in a low voice, "What's your partner's name?"

As each newcomer repeated the same questions, the nuisance becameintolerable. Our military visitors were soon disgusted at the concisenature of our replies, and we could overhear them muttering cursesagainst us. While we sat smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, TeteRouge's tongue was never idle. He never forgot his military character, and during the whole interview he was incessantly busy among hisfellow-soldiers. At length we placed him on the ground before us, andtold him that he might play the part of spokesman for the whole. TeteRouge was delighted, and we soon had the satisfaction of seeing him talkand gabble at such a rate that the torrent of questions was in a greatmeasure diverted from us. A little while after, to our amazement, we sawa large cannon with four horses come lumbering up behind the crowd; andthe driver, who was perched on one of the animals, stretching his neckso as to look over the rest of the men, called out:

"Whar are you from, and what's your business?"

The captain of one of the companies was among our visitors, drawn bythe same curiosity that had attracted his men. Unless their faces beliedthem, not a few in the crowd might with great advantage have changedplaces with their commander. 

"Well, men, " said he, lazily rising from the ground where he had beenlounging, "it's getting late, I reckon we had better be moving. "

"I shan't start yet anyhow, " said one fellow, who was lying half asleepwith his head resting on his arm. 

"Don't be in a hurry, captain, " added the lieutenant. 

"Well, have it your own way, we'll wait a while longer, " replied theobsequious commander. 

At length however our visitors went straggling away as they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left alone again. 

No one can deny the intrepid bravery of these men, their intelligenceand the bold frankness of their character, free from all that is meanand sordid. Yet for the moment the extreme roughness of their mannershalf inclines one to forget their heroic qualities. Most of them seemwithout the least perception of delicacy or propriety, though among themindividuals may be found in whose manners there is a plain courtesy, while their features bespeak a gallant spirit equal to any enterprise. 

No one was more relieved than Delorier by the departure of thevolunteers; for dinner was getting colder every moment. He spread awell-whitened buffalo hide upon the grass, placed in the middle thejuicy hump of a fat cow, ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and then acquainted us that all was ready. Tete Rouge, with his usualalacrity on such occasions, was the first to take his seat. In hisformer capacity of steamboat clerk, he had learned to prefix thehonorary MISTER to everybody's name, whether of high or low degree; soJim Gurney was Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Delorier, forthe first time in his life, heard himself addressed as Mr. Delorier. This did not prevent his conceiving a violent enmity against Tete Rouge, who, in his futile though praiseworthy attempts to make himselfuseful used always to intermeddle with cooking the dinners. Delorier'sdisposition knew no medium between smiles and sunshine and a downrighttornado of wrath; he said nothing to Tete Rouge, but his wrongs rankledin his breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at dinner; it was hishappiest moment; he sat enveloped in the old buffalo coat, sleevesturned up in preparation for the work, and his short legs crossed on thegrass before him; he had a cup of coffee by his side and his knife readyin his hand and while he looked upon the fat hump ribs, his eyes dilatedwith anticipation. Delorier sat just opposite to him, and the rest of usby this time had taken our seats. 

"How is this, Delorier? You haven't given us bread enough. "

At this Delorier's placid face flew instantly into a paroxysm ofcontortions. He grinned with wrath, chattered, gesticulated, and hurledforth a volley of incoherent words in broken English at the astonishedTete Rouge. It was just possible to make out that he was accusing himof having stolen and eaten four large cakes which had been laid by fordinner. Tete Rouge, utterly confounded at this sudden attack, stared atDelorier for a moment in dumb amazement, with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he found speech, and protested that the accusation was false;and that he could not conceive how he had offended Mr. Delorier, orprovoked him to use such ungentlemanly expressions. The tempest of wordsraged with such fury that nothing else could be heard. But Tete Rouge, from his greater command of English, had a manifest advantage overDelorier, who after sputtering and grimacing for a while, found hiswords quite inadequate to the expression of his wrath. He jumped upand vanished, jerking out between his teeth one furious sacre enfant degrace, a Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic by being usuallyapplied together with a cut of the whip to refractory mules and horses. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo escorting his cow with two smallcalves over the prairie. Close behind came four or five large whitewolves, sneaking stealthily through the long meadow-grass, and watchingfor the moment when one of the children should chance to lag behind hisparents. The old bull kept well on his guard, and faced about now andthen to keep the prowling ruffians at a distance. 

As we approached our nooning place, we saw five or six buffalo standingat the very summit of a tall bluff. Trotting forward to the spot wherewe meant to stop, I flung off my saddle and turned my horse loose. Bymaking a circuit under cover of some rising ground, I reached the footof the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep side. Lying under thebrow of the declivity, I prepared to fire at the buffalo, who stood onthe flat surface about not five yards distant. Perhaps I was too hasty, for the gleaming rifle-barrel leveled over the edge caught their notice;they turned and ran. Close as they were, it was impossible to kill themwhen in that position, and stepping upon the summit I pursued them overthe high arid tableland. It was extremely rugged and broken; a greatsandy ravine was channeled through it, with smaller ravines entering oneach side like tributary streams. The buffalo scattered, and I soon lostsight of most of them as they scuttled away through the sandy chasms; abull and a cow alone kept in view. For a while they ran along the edgeof the great ravine, appearing and disappearing as they dived into somechasm and again emerged from it. At last they stretched out upon thebroad prairie, a plain nearly flat and almost devoid of verdure, forevery short grass-blade was dried and shriveled by the glaring sun. Nowand then the old bull would face toward me; whenever he did so I fellto the ground and lay motionless. In this manner I chased them for abouttwo miles, until at length I heard in front a deep hoarse bellowing. Amoment after a band of about a hundred bulls, before hidden by a slightswell of the plain, came at once into view. The fugitives ran towardthem. Instead of mingling with the band, as I expected, they passeddirectly through, and continued their flight. At this I gave up thechase, and kneeling down, crawled to within gunshot of the bulls, andwith panting breath and trickling brow sat down on the ground to watchthem; my presence did not disturb them in the least. They were notfeeding, for, indeed, there was nothing to eat; but they seemed tohave chosen the parched and scorching desert as the scene of theiramusements. Some were rolling on the ground amid a cloud of dust;others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, were butting their large headstogether, while many stood motionless, as if quite inanimate. Excepttheir monstrous growth of tangled grizzly mane, they had no hair; fortheir old coat had fallen off in the spring, and their new one had notas yet appeared. Sometimes an old bull would step forward, and gaze atme with a grim and stupid countenance; then he would turn and butt hisnext neighbor; then he would lie down and roll over in the dirt, kickinghis hoofs in the air. When satisfied with this amusement he would jerkhis head and shoulders upward, and resting on his forelegs stare at mein this position, half blinded by his mane, and his face covered withdirt; then up he would spring upon all-fours, and shake his dusty sides;turning half round, he would stand with his beard touching the ground, in an attitude of profound abstraction, as if reflecting on his puerileconduct. "You are too ugly to live, " thought I; and aiming at theugliest, I shot three of them in succession. The rest were not at alldiscomposed at this; they kept on bellowing and butting and rollingon the ground as before. Henry Chatillon always cautioned us to keepperfectly quiet in the presence of a wounded buffalo, for any movementis apt to excite him to make an attack; so I sat still upon the ground, loading and firing with as little motion as possible. While I wasthus employed, a spectator made his appearance; a little antelope camerunning up with remarkable gentleness to within fifty yards; and thereit stood, its slender neck arched, its small horns thrown back, and itslarge dark eyes gazing on me with a look of eager curiosity. By the sideof the shaggy and brutish monsters before me, it seemed like some lovelyyoung girl wandering near a den of robbers or a nest of bearded pirates. The buffalo looked uglier than ever. "Here goes for another of you, "thought I, feeling in my pouch for a percussion cap. Not a percussioncap was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron bar. One of thewounded bulls had not yet fallen, and I waited for some time, hopingevery moment that his strength would fail him. He still stood firm, looking grimly at me, and disregarding Henry's advice I rose and walkedaway. Many of the bulls turned and looked at me, but the wounded brutemade no attack. I soon came upon a deep ravine which would give meshelter in case of emergency; so I turned round and threw a stone atthe bulls. They received it with the utmost indifference. Feeling myselfinsulted at their refusal to be frightened, I swung my hat, shouted, andmade a show of running toward them; at this they crowded together andgalloped off, leaving their dead and wounded upon the field. As I movedtoward the camp I saw the last survivor totter and fall dead. My speedin returning was wonderfully quickened by the reflection that thePawnees were abroad, and that I was defenseless in case of meeting withan enemy. I saw no living thing, however, except two or three squalidold bulls scrambling among the sand-hills that flanked the great ravine. When I reached camp the party was nearly ready for the afternoon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from the river bank. Aboutmidnight, as we all lay asleep on the ground, the man nearest to megently reaching out his hand, touched my shoulder, and cautioned me atthe same time not to move. It was bright starlight. Opening my eyes andslightly turning I saw a large white wolf moving stealthily around theembers of our fire, with his nose close to the ground. Disengaging myhand from the blanket, I drew the cover from my rifle, which lay closeat my side; the motion alarmed the wolf, and with long leaps he boundedout of the camp. Jumping up, I fired after him when he was about thirtyyards distant; the melancholy hum of the bullet sounded far away throughthe night. At the sharp report, so suddenly breaking upon the stillness, all the men sprang up. 

"You've killed him, " said one of them. 

"No, I haven't, " said I; "there he goes, running along the river. 

"Then there's two of them. Don't you see that one lying out yonder?"

We went to it, and instead of a dead white wolf found the bleached skullof a buffalo. I had missed my mark, and what was worse, had grosslyviolated a standing law of the prairie. When in a dangerous part ofthe country, it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun afterencamping, lest the report should reach the ears of the Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last man had lighted hispipe at the dying ashes of the fire. The beauty of the day enlivened usall. Even Ellis felt its influence, and occasionally made a remark as werode along, and Jim Gurney told endless stories of his cruisings in theUnited States service. The buffalo were abundant, and at length a largeband of them went running up the hills on the left. 

"Do you see them buffalo?" said Ellis, "now I'll bet any man I'll go andkill one with my yager. "

And leaving his horse to follow on with the party, he strode up the hillafter them. Henry looked at us with his peculiar humorous expression, and proposed that we should follow Ellis to see how he would kill a fatcow. As soon as he was out of sight we rode up the hill after him, andwaited behind a little ridge till we heard the report of the unfailingyager. Mounting to the top, we saw Ellis clutching his favorite weaponwith both hands, and staring after the buffalo, who one and all weregalloping off at full speed. As we descended the hill we saw the partystraggling along the trail below. When we joined them, another sceneof amateur hunting awaited us. I forgot to say that when we met thevolunteers Tete Rouge had obtained a horse from one of them, in exchangefor his mule, whom he feared and detested. The horse he christenedJames. James, though not worth so much as the mule, was a large andstrong animal. Tete Rouge was very proud of his new acquisition, andsuddenly became ambitious to run a buffalo with him. At his request, I lent him my pistols, though not without great misgivings, sincewhen Tete Rouge hunted buffalo the pursuer was in more danger than thepursued. He hung the holsters at his saddle bow; and now, as we passedalong, a band of bulls left their grazing in the meadow and galloped ina long file across the trail in front. 

"Now's your chance, Tete; come, let's see you kill a bull. " Thus urged, the hunter cried, "Get up!" and James, obedient to the signal, cantereddeliberately forward at an abominably uneasy gait. Tete Rouge, as wecontemplated him from behind; made a most remarkable figure. He stillwore the old buffalo coat; his blanket, which was tied in a loose bundlebehind his saddle, went jolting from one side to the other, and a largetin canteen half full of water, which hung from his pommel, was jerkedabout his leg in a manner which greatly embarrassed him. 

"Let out your horse, man; lay on your whip!" we called out to him. The buffalo were getting farther off at every instant. James, beingambitious to mend his pace, tugged hard at the rein, and one of hisrider's boots escaped from the stirrup. 

"Woa! I say, woa!" cried Tete Rouge, in great perturbation, and aftermuch effort James' progress was arrested. The hunter came trotting backto the party, disgusted with buffalo running, and he was received withoverwhelming congratulations. 

"Too good a chance to lose, " said Shaw, pointing to another band ofbulls on the left. We lashed our horses and galloped upon them. Shawkilled one with each barrel of his gun. I separated another from theherd and shot him. The small bullet of the rifled pistol, striking toofar back, did not immediately take effect, and the bull ran on withunabated speed. Again and again I snapped the remaining pistol at him. Iprimed it afresh three or four times, and each time it missed fire, forthe touch-hole was clogged up. Returning it to the holster, I began toload the empty pistol, still galloping by the side of the bull. By thistime he was grown desperate. The foam flew from his jaws and his tonguelolled out. Before the pistol was loaded he sprang upon me, and followedup his attack with a furious rush. The only alternative was to runaway or be killed. I took to flight, and the bull, bristling with fury, pursued me closely. The pistol was soon ready, and then looking back, I saw his head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. To fire at itwould be useless, for a bullet flattens against the adamantine skull ofa buffalo bull. Inclining my body to the left, I turned my horse inthat direction as sharply as his speed would permit. The bull, rushingblindly on with great force and weight, did not turn so quickly. As Ilooked back, his neck and shoulders were exposed to view; turning in thesaddle, I shot a bullet through them obliquely into his vitals. Hegave over the chase and soon fell to the ground. An English touristrepresents a situation like this as one of imminent danger; this isa great mistake; the bull never pursues long, and the horse mustbe wretched indeed that cannot keep out of his way for two or threeminutes. 

We were now come to a part of the country where we were bound in commonprudence to use every possible precaution. We mounted guard at night, each man standing in his turn; and no one ever slept without drawinghis rifle close to his side or folding it with him in his blanket. Onemorning our vigilance was stimulated by our finding traces of a largeComanche encampment. Fortunately for us, however, it had been abandonednearly a week. On the next evening we found the ashes of a recent fire, which gave us at the time some uneasiness. At length we reached theCaches, a place of dangerous repute; and it had a most dangerousappearance, consisting of sand-hills everywhere broken by ravines anddeep chasms. Here we found the grave of Swan, killed at this place, probably by the Pawnees, two or three weeks before. His remains, morethan once violated by the Indians and the wolves, were suffered atlength to remain undisturbed in their wild burial place. 

For several days we met detached companies of Price's regiment. Horseswould often break loose at night from their camps. One afternoon wepicked up three of these stragglers quietly grazing along the river. After we came to camp that evening, Jim Gurney brought news that more ofthem were in sight. It was nearly dark, and a cold, drizzling rain hadset in; but we all turned out, and after an hour's chase nine horseswere caught and brought in. One of them was equipped with saddle andbridle; pistols were hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a carbine wasslung at its side, and a blanket rolled up behind it. In the morning, glorying in our valuable prize, we resumed our journey, and ourcavalcade presented a much more imposing appearance than ever before. Wekept on till the afternoon, when, far behind, three horsemen appearedon the horizon. Coming on at a hand-gallop, they soon overtook us, andclaimed all the horses as belonging to themselves and others of theircompany. They were of course given up, very much to the mortification ofEllis and Jim Gurney. 

Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we resolved to give themhalf a day's rest. We stopped at noon at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw and Henry went out to hunt; and while the men loungedabout the camp, I lay down to read in the shadow of the cart. Lookingup, I saw a bull grazing alone on the prairie more than a mile distant. I was tired of reading, and taking my rifle I walked toward him. AsI came near, I crawled upon the ground until I approached to within ahundred yards; here I sat down upon the grass and waited till he shouldturn himself into a proper position to receive his death-wound. He wasa grim old veteran. His loves and his battles were over for that season, and now, gaunt and war-worn, he had withdrawn from the herd to graze byhimself and recruit his exhausted strength. He was miserably emaciated;his mane was all in tatters; his hide was bare and rough as anelephant's, and covered with dried patches of the mud in which he hadbeen wallowing. He showed all his ribs whenever he moved. He looked likesome grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood and violence, and scowlingon all the world from his misanthropic seclusion. The old savage lookedup when I first approached, and gave me a fierce stare; then he fellto grazing again with an air of contemptuous indifference. The momentafter, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he threw up his head, facedquickly about, and to my amazement came at a rapid trot directly towardme. I was strongly impelled to get up and run, but this would have beenvery dangerous. Sitting quite still I aimed, as he came on, at thethin part of the skull above the nose. After he had passed over aboutthree-quarters of the distance between us, I was on the point of firing, when, to my great satisfaction, he stopped short. I had full opportunityof studying his countenance; his whole front was covered with a hugemass of coarse matted hair, which hung so low that nothing but his twoforefeet were visible beneath it; his short thick horns were blunted andsplit to the very roots in his various battles, and across his nose andforehead were two or three large white scars, which gave him a grim andat the same time a whimsical appearance. It seemed to me that he stoodthere motionless for a full quarter of an hour, looking at me throughthe tangled locks of his mane. For my part, I remained as quiet as he, and looked quite as hard; I felt greatly inclined to come to term withhim. "My friend, " thought I, "if you'll let me off, I'll let you off. "At length he seemed to have abandoned any hostile design. Very slowlyand deliberately he began to turn about; little by little his side cameinto view, all be-plastered with mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgotmy prudent intentions, and fired my rifle; a pistol would have served atthat distance. Round spun old bull like a top, and away he gallopedover the prairie. He ran some distance, and even ascended a considerablehill, before he lay down and died. After shooting another bull among thehills, I went back to camp. 

At noon, on the 14th of September, a very large Santa Fe caravan cameup. The plain was covered with the long files of their white-toppedwagons, the close black carriages in which the traders travel and sleep, large droves of animals, and men on horseback and on foot. They allstopped on the meadow near us. Our diminutive cart and handful of menmade but an insignificant figure by the side of their wide and bustlingcamp. Tete Rouge went over to visit them, and soon came back with halfa dozen biscuits in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other. Iinquired where he got them. "Oh, " said Tete Rouge, "I know some of thetraders. Dr. Dobbs is there besides. " I asked who Dr. Dobbs might be. "One of our St. Louis doctors, " replied Tete Rouge. For two days pastI had been severely attacked by the same disorder which had so greatlyreduced my strength when at the mountains; at this time I was sufferingnot a little from the sudden pain and weakness which it occasioned. Tete Rouge, in answer to my inquiries, declared that Dr. Dobbs wasa physician of the first standing. Without at all believing him, Iresolved to consult this eminent practitioner. Walking over to the camp, I found him lying sound asleep under one of the wagons. He offered inhis own person but an indifferent specimen of his skill, for it was fivemonths since I had seen so cadaverous a face. 

His hat had fallen off, and his yellow hair was all in disorder; one ofhis arms supplied the place of a pillow; his pantaloons were wrinkledhalfway up to his knees, and he was covered with little bits of grassand straw, upon which he had rolled in his uneasy slumber. A Mexicanstood near, and I made him a sign that he should touch the doctor. Upsprang the learned Dobbs, and, sitting upright, rubbed his eyes andlooked about him in great bewilderment. I regretted the necessity ofdisturbing him, and said I had come to ask professional advice. "Yoursystem, sir, is in a disordered state, " said he solemnly, after a shortexamination. 

I inquired what might be the particular species of disorder. 

"Evidently a morbid action of the liver, " replied the medical man; "Iwill give you a prescription. "

Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, he scrambled in; fora moment I could see nothing of him but his boots. At length he produceda box which he had extracted from some dark recess within, and openingit, he presented me with a folded paper of some size. "What is it?" saidI. "Calomel, " said the doctor. 

Under the circumstances I would have taken almost anything. There wasnot enough to do me much harm, and it might possibly do good; so at campthat night I took the poison instead of supper. 

That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned us not to follow themain trail along the river, "unless, " as one of them observed, "you wantto have your throats cut!" The river at this place makes a bend; anda smaller trail, known as the Ridge-path, leads directly across theprairie from point to point, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after traveling seven or eight miles, wecame to a small stream, where we encamped. Our position was not chosenwith much forethought or military skill. The water was in a deep hollow, with steep, high banks; on the grassy bottom of this hollow we picketedour horses, while we ourselves encamped upon the barren prairie justabove. The opportunity was admirable either for driving off our horsesor attacking us. After dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at supper, weobserved him pointing with a face of speechless horror over the shoulderof Henry, who was opposite to him. Aloof amid the darkness appeareda gigantic black apparition; solemnly swaying to and fro, it advancedsteadily upon us. Henry, half vexed and half amused, jumped up, spreadout his arms, and shouted. The invader was an old buffalo bull, who withcharacteristic stupidity, was walking directly into camp. It cost someshouting and swinging of hats before we could bring him first to a haltand then to a rapid retreat. 

That night the moon was full and bright; but as the black clouds chasedrapidly over it, we were at one moment in light and at the next indarkness. As the evening advanced, a thunderstorm came up; it struck uswith such violence that the tent would have been blown over if we hadnot interposed the cart to break the force of the wind. At length itsubsided to a steady rain. I lay awake through nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter upon the canvas above. The moisture, whichfilled the tent and trickled from everything in it, did not add to thecomfort of the situation. About twelve o'clock Shaw went out to standguard amid the rain and pitch darkness. Munroe, the most vigilant aswell as one of the bravest among us, was also on the alert. When abouttwo hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, and touching Henry, calledhim in a low quick voice to come out. "What is it?" I asked. "Indians, I believe, " whispered Shaw; "but lie still; I'll call you if there's afight. "

He and Henry went out together. I took the cover from my rifle, put afresh percussion cap upon it, and then, being in much pain, lay downagain. In about five minutes Shaw came in again. "All right, " he said, as he lay down to sleep. Henry was now standing guard in his place. Hetold me in the morning the particulars of the alarm. Munroe' s watchfuleye discovered some dark objects down in the hollow, among the horses, like men creeping on all fours. Lying flat on their faces, he and Shawcrawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon convinced that what theysaw were Indians. Shaw silently withdrew to call Henry, and they alllay watching in the same position. Henry's eye is of the best onthe prairie. He detected after a while the true nature of the movingobjects; they were nothing but wolves creeping among the horses. 

It is very singular that when picketed near a camp horses seldom showany fear of such an intrusion. The wolves appear to have no other objectthan that of gnawing the trail-ropes of raw hide by which the animalsare secured. Several times in the course of the journey my horse'strail-rope was bitten in two by these nocturnal visitors. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SETTLEMENTS

The next day was extremely hot, and we rode from morning till nightwithout seeing a tree or a bush or a drop of water. Our horses and mulessuffered much more than we, but as sunset approached they pricked uptheir ears and mended their pace. Water was not far off. When we came tothe descent of the broad shallowy valley where it lay, an unlooked-forsight awaited us. The stream glistened at the bottom, and along itsbanks were pitched a multitude of tents, while hundreds of cattle werefeeding over the meadows. Bodies of troops, both horse and foot, andlong trains of wagons with men, women, and children, were moving overthe opposite ridge and descending the broad declivity in front. Thesewere the Mormon battalion in the service of government, together with aconsiderable number of Missouri volunteers. The Mormons were to bepaid off in California, and they were allowed to bring with themtheir families and property. There was something very striking in thehalf-military, half-patriarchal appearance of these armed fanatics, thuson their way with their wives and children, to found, if might be, aMormon empire in California. We were much more astonished than pleasedat the sight before us. In order to find an unoccupied camping ground, we were obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up the stream, and here wewere soon beset by a swarm of Mormons and Missourians. The United Statesofficer in command of the whole came also to visit us, and remained sometime at our camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. We were always earlyrisers, but before we were ready the voices of men driving in the cattlesounded all around us. As we passed above their camp, we saw through theobscurity that the tents were falling and the ranks rapidly forming; andmingled with the cries of women and children, the rolling of the Mormondrums and the clear blast of their trumpets sounded through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met almost every day long trainsof government wagons, laden with stores for the troops and crawling at asnail's pace toward Santa Fe. 

Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but on a foragingexpedition one evening, he achieved an adventure more perilous thanhad yet befallen any man in the party. The night after we left theRidge-path we encamped close to the river. At sunset we saw a train ofwagons encamping on the trail about three miles off; and though wesaw them distinctly, our little cart, as it afterward proved, entirelyescaped their view. For some days Tete Rouge had been longingeagerly after a dram of whisky. So, resolving to improve the presentopportunity, he mounted his horse James, slung his canteen over hisshoulder, and set forth in search of his favorite liquor. Some hourspassed without his returning. We thought that he was lost, or perhapsthat some stray Indian had snapped him up. While the rest fell asleep Iremained on guard. Late at night a tremulous voice saluted me from thedarkness, and Tete Rouge and James soon became visible, advancing towardthe camp. Tete Rouge was in much agitation and big with some importanttidings. Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, he told the followingstory:

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how late it was. By thetime he approached the wagoners it was perfectly dark; and as he sawthem all sitting around their fires within the circle of wagons, theirguns laid by their sides, he thought he might as well give warning ofhis approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising hisvoice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in prolonged accents, "Camp, ahoy!" This eccentric salutation produced anything but the desiredresult. Hearing such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation were about to breakin and take their scalps. Up they sprang staring with terror. Each mansnatched his gun; some stood behind the wagons; some threw themselvesflat on the ground, and in an instant twenty cocked muskets were leveledfull at the horrified Tete Rouge, who just then began to be visiblethrough the darkness. 

"Thar they come, " cried the master wagoner, "fire, fire! shoot thatfeller. "

"No, no!" screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright; "don't fire, don't! I'm a friend, I'm an American citizen!"

"You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from the wagons; "thenwhat are you yelling out thar for, like a wild Injun. Come along up hereif you're a man. "

"Keep your guns p'inted at him, " added the master wagoner, "maybe he's adecoy, like. "

Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, with the gapingmuzzles of the muskets still before his eyes. He succeeded at last inexplaining his character and situation, and the Missourians admitted himinto camp. He got no whisky; but as he represented himself as agreat invalid, and suffering much from coarse fare, they made up acontribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more related this story. We hardly knew how much of it to believe, though after somecross-questioning we failed to discover any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the wagoner's camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account inevery particular. 

"I wouldn't have been in that feller's place, " said one of them, "forthe biggest heap of money in Missouri. "

To Tete Rouge's great wrath they expressed a firm conviction that hewas crazy. We left them after giving them the advice not to troublethemselves about war-whoops in future, since they would be apt to feelan Indian's arrow before they heard his voice. 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another sort with a party ofwagoners. Henry and I rode forward to hunt. After that day there wasno probability that we should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious tokill one for the sake of fresh meat. They were so wild that we huntedall the morning in vain, but at noon as we approached Cow Creek we sawa large band feeding near its margin. Cow Creek is densely lined withtrees which intercept the view beyond, and it runs, as we afterwardfound, at the bottom of a deep trench. We approached by riding along thebottom of a ravine. When we were near enough, I held the horses whileHenry crept toward the buffalo. I saw him take his seat within shootingdistance, prepare his rifle, and look about to select his victim. Thedeath of a fat cow was certain, when suddenly a great smoke arose fromthe bed of the Creek with a rattling volley of musketry. A score oflong-legged Missourians leaped out from among the trees and ran afterthe buffalo, who one and all took to their heels and vanished. Thesefellows had crawled up the bed of the Creek to within a hundred yards ofthe buffalo. Never was there a fairer chance for a shot. They were goodmarksmen; all cracked away at once, and yet not a buffalo fell. In fact, the animal is so tenacious of life that it requires no little knowledgeof anatomy to kill it, and it is very seldom that a novice succeedsin his first attempt at approaching. The balked Missourians wereexcessively mortified, especially when Henry told them if they had keptquiet he would have killed meat enough in ten minutes to feed theirwhole party. Our friends, who were at no great distance, hearing such aformidable fusillade, thought the Indians had fired the volley for ourbenefit. Shaw came galloping on to reconnoiter and learn if we were yetin the land of the living. 

At Cow Creek we found the very welcome novelty of ripe grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. At the Little Arkansas, not much fartheron, we saw the last buffalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over theprairie alone and melancholy. 

From this time forward the character of the country was changing everyday. We had left behind us the great arid deserts, meagerly coveredby the tufted buffalo grass, with its pale green hue, and its shortshriveled blades. The plains before us were carpeted with rich andverdant herbage sprinkled with flowers. In place of buffalo we foundplenty of prairie hens, and we bagged them by dozens without leaving thetrail. In three or four days we saw before us the broad woods and theemerald meadows of Council Grove, a scene of striking luxuriance andbeauty. It seemed like a new sensation as we rode beneath the resoundingarchs of these noble woods. The trees were ash, oak, elm, maple, and hickory, their mighty limbs deeply overshadowing the path, whileenormous grape vines were entwined among them, purple with fruit. Theshouts of our scattered party, and now and then a report of a rifle, rang amid the breathing stillness of the forest. We rode forth againwith regret into the broad light of the open prairie. Little more than ahundred miles now separated us from the frontier settlements. The wholeintervening country was a succession of verdant prairies, rising inbroad swells and relieved by trees clustering like an oasis around somespring, or following the course of a stream along some fertile hollow. These are the prairies of the poet and the novelist. We had left dangerbehind us. Nothing was to be feared from the Indians of this region, theSacs and Foxes, the Kansas and the Osages. We had met with signalgood fortune. Although for five months we had been traveling with aninsufficient force through a country where we were at any moment liableto depredation, not a single animal had been stolen from us, and ouronly loss had been one old mule bitten to death by a rattlesnake. Threeweeks after we reached the frontier the Pawnees and the Comanches begana regular series of hostilities on the Arkansas trail, killing men anddriving off horses. They attacked, without exception, every party, largeor small, that passed during the next six months. 

Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and other camping placesbesides, were passed all in quick succession. At Rock Creek we found atrain of government provision wagons, under the charge of an emaciatedold man in his seventy-first year. Some restless American devil haddriven him into the wilderness at a time when he should have been seatedat his fireside with his grandchildren on his knees. I am convincedthat he never returned; he was complaining that night of a disease, thewasting effects of which upon a younger and stronger man, I myself hadproved from severe experience. Long ere this no doubt the wolves havehowled their moonlight carnival over the old man's attenuated remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to Fort Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete Rouge here took leave of us. He wasanxious to go to the fort in order to receive payment for his valuablemilitary services. So he and his horse James, after bidding anaffectionate farewell, set out together, taking with them as muchprovision as they could conveniently carry, including a large quantityof brown sugar. On a cheerless rainy evening we came to our lastencamping ground. Some pigs belonging to a Shawnee farmer were gruntingand rooting at the edge of the grove. 

"I wonder how fresh pork tastes, " murmured one of the party, and morethan one voice murmured in response. The fiat went forth, "That pigmust die, " and a rifle was leveled forthwith at the countenance of theplumpest porker. Just then a wagon train, with some twenty Missourians, came out from among the trees. The marksman suspended his aim, deemingit inexpedient under the circumstances to consummate the deed of blood. 

In the morning we made our toilet as well as circumstances would permit, and that is saying but very little. In spite of the dreary rain ofyesterday, there never was a brighter and gayer autumnal morning thanthat on which we returned to the settlements. We were passing throughthe country of the half-civilized Shawanoes. It was a beautifulalternation of fertile plains and groves, whose foliage was just tingedwith the hues of autumn, while close beneath them rested the neatlog-houses of the Indian farmers. Every field and meadow bespoke theexuberant fertility of the soil. The maize stood rustling in the wind, matured and dry, its shining yellow ears thrust out between the gapinghusks. Squashes and enormous yellow pumpkins lay basking in the sun inthe midst of their brown and shriveled leaves. Robins and blackbirdsflew about the fences; and everything in short betokened our nearapproach to home and civilization. The forests that border on theMissouri soon rose before us, and we entered the wide tract of shrubberywhich forms their outskirts. We had passed the same road on our outwardjourney in the spring, but its aspect was totally changed. The youngwild apple trees, then flushed with their fragrant blossoms, were nowhung thickly with ruddy fruit. Tall grass flourished by the roadside inplace of the tender shoots just peeping from the warm and oozy soil. Thevines were laden with dark purple grapes, and the slender twigs of themaple, then tasseled with their clusters of small red flowers, nowhung out a gorgeous display of leaves stained by the frost with burningcrimson. On every side we saw the tokens of maturity and decay whereall had before been fresh and beautiful. We entered the forest, andourselves and our horses were checkered, as we passed along, by thebright spots of sunlight that fell between the opening boughs. On eitherside the dark rich masses of foliage almost excluded the sun, thoughhere and there its rays could find their way down, striking through thebroad leaves and lighting them with a pure transparent green. Squirrelsbarked at us from the trees; coveys of young partridges ran rustlingover the leaves below, and the golden oriole, the blue jay, and theflaming red-bird darted among the shadowy branches. We hailed thesesights and sounds of beauty by no means with an unmingled pleasure. Many and powerful as were the attractions which drew us toward thesettlements, we looked back even at that moment with an eager longingtoward the wilderness of prairies and mountains behind us. For myself Ihad suffered more that summer from illness than ever before in my life, and yet to this hour I cannot recall those savage scenes and savage menwithout a strong desire again to visit them. 

At length, for the first time during about half a year, we saw the roofof a white man's dwelling between the opening trees. A few moments afterwe were riding over the miserable log bridge that leads into the centerof Westport. Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a rougher lookingtroop than ours, with our worn equipments and broken-down horses, wasnever seen even there. We passed the well-remembered tavern, Boone'sgrocery and old Vogel's dram shop, and encamped on a meadow beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number of people who came to purchase ourhorses and equipage. This matter disposed of, we hired a wagon and droveon to Kansas Landing. Here we were again received under the hospitableroof of our old friend Colonel Chick, and seated on his porch we lookeddown once more on the eddies of the Missouri. 

Delorier made his appearance in the morning, strangely transformed bythe assistance of a hat, a coat, and a razor. His little log-house wasamong the woods not far off. It seemed he had meditated giving a ballon the occasion of his return, and had consulted Henry Chatillon as towhether it would do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his entireconviction that we would not take it amiss, and the invitation was nowproffered, accordingly, Delorier adding as a special inducementthat Antoine Lejeunesse was to play the fiddle. We told him we wouldcertainly come, but before the evening arrived a steamboat, which camedown from Fort Leavenworth, prevented our being present at the expectedfestivities. Delorier was on the rock at the landing place, waiting totake leave of us. 

"Adieu! mes bourgeois; adieu! adieu!" he cried out as the boat pulledoff; "when you go another time to de Rocky Montagnes I will go with you;yes, I will go!"

He accompanied this patronizing assurance by jumping about swinging hishat, and grinning from ear to ear. As the boat rounded a distant point, the last object that met our eyes was Delorier still lifting his hat andskipping about the rock. We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim Gurney atWestport, and Henry Chatillon went down in the boat with us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during about a third ofwhich we were fast aground on sand-bars. We passed the steamer Ameliacrowded with a roaring crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing, drinking, gambling, and fighting. At length one evening we reached the crowdedlevee of St. Louis. Repairing to the Planters' House, we caused diligentsearch to be made for our trunks, which after some time were discoveredstowed away in the farthest corner of the storeroom. In the morning wehardly recognized each other; a frock of broadcloth had supplanted thefrock of buckskin; well-fitted pantaloons took the place of the Indianleggings, and polished boots were substituted for the gaudy moccasins. 

After we had been several days at St. Louis we heard news of Tete Rouge. He had contrived to reach Fort Leavenworth, where he had found thepaymaster and received his money. As a boat was just ready to startfor St. Louis, he went on board and engaged his passage. This done, heimmediately got drunk on shore, and the boat went off without him. Itwas some days before another opportunity occurred, and meanwhile thesutler's stores furnished him with abundant means of keeping up hisspirits. Another steamboat came at last, the clerk of which happened tobe a friend of his, and by the advice of some charitable person on shorehe persuaded Tete Rouge to remain on board, intending to detain himthere until the boat should leave the fort. At first Tete Rouge waswell contented with this arrangement, but on applying for a dram, thebarkeeper, at the clerk's instigation, refused to let him have it. Finding them both inflexible in spite of his entreaties, he becamedesperate and made his escape from the boat. The clerk found him aftera long search in one of the barracks; a circle of dragoons stoodcontemplating him as he lay on the floor, maudlin drunk and cryingdismally. With the help of one of them the clerk pushed him on board, and our informant, who came down in the same boat, declares that heremained in great despondency during the whole passage. As we left St. Louis soon after his arrival, we did not see the worthless, good-naturedlittle vagabond again. 

On the evening before our departure Henry Chatillon came to our roomsat the Planters' House to take leave of us. No one who met him in thestreets of St. Louis would have taken him for a hunter fresh from theRocky Mountains. He was very neatly and simply dressed in a suit of darkcloth; for although, since his sixteenth year, he had scarcely been fora month together among the abodes of men, he had a native good taste anda sense of propriety which always led him to pay great attention to hispersonal appearance. His tall athletic figure, with its easy flexiblemotions, appeared to advantage in his present dress; and his fine face, though roughened by a thousand storms, was not at all out of keepingwith it. We took leave of him with much regret; and unless his changingfeatures, as he shook us by the hand, belied him, the feeling on hispart was no less than on ours. Shaw had given him a horse at Westport. My rifle, which he had always been fond of using, as it was an excellentpiece, much better than his own, is now in his hands, and perhapsat this moment its sharp voice is startling the echoes of the RockyMountains. On the next morning we left town, and after a fortnight ofrailroads and steamboat we saw once more the familiar features of home.