OUR HORSES RUN AWAY WITH US.OUR HORSES RUN AWAY WITH US.
The horses of both Sachem and Muggs ran away, taking a straight line for the distant town. This caused a general stampede on the part of all the other horses, much to the regret of their riders, who were thus cruelly prevented from a proper display of latent prowess in rendering protection to the wagons and our cook. From the former came a steady cannonade. Squirming like eels among their oxen, the Mexicans fired from under the animals' bellies, astride the tongue, from anywhere, indeed, that furnished a barricade between the distant Indians and themselves.
It is one of the remarkable tactics of this remarkable people, in military emergencies, that when they can not put distance between them and the enemy, they must substitutesomethingelse. A single trooper, on an open plain, could send a small army of them scampering off, but let them get behind a barricade, and they will continue banging away with their old muskets until either the weapon bursts or ammunition gives out. It is surprising how harmless their fusillades generally are. If Mexican powder is used, it goes off like a mixture of lamp-black and nitro-glycerine, with a premonitory fiz and then a fearful concussion, leaving a smell of burnt oil in the air which overcomes for a moment the natural aroma of the warriors themselves.
But while we were still being run away with by our spirited animals, another change occurred in the situation equally as unexpected as the first. The Indians had stopped running about the time that we commenced, and now stood in a dusky line something less than half a mile off, making signs to us. Shamus evidently considered it a horrible incantation for his scalp, and every time he looked backward plied with renewed fervor at his donkey's ribs. Our guide, who had stayed with the wagons and exerted himself to silence the Mexican batteries, motioned us to return, which we were finally enabled to do by virtue of steady pulling upon one rein and coming back in half circles.
By the time our cook reached us, out of breath and perspiring terribly, two savages had ridden out from their band, weaponless, and werenow gesturing a wish to communicate. The Professor and our guide rode to meet them, apparently unarmed; but with characteristic exhibition of the white man's subtlety, the tail-pocket of the philosopher's coat held a pistol in reserve, and the guide, I have no doubt, was equally well provided.
WHITE WOLF, THE CHEYENNE CHIEF—HUNGRY INDIANS—RETURN TO HAYS—A CHEYENNE WAR PARTY—THE PIPE OF PEACE—THE COUNCIL CHAMBER—WHITE WOLF'S SPEECH, AS RENDERED BY SACHEM—THE WHITE MAN'S WIGWAM.
WHITE WOLF, THE CHEYENNE CHIEF—HUNGRY INDIANS—RETURN TO HAYS—A CHEYENNE WAR PARTY—THE PIPE OF PEACE—THE COUNCIL CHAMBER—WHITE WOLF'S SPEECH, AS RENDERED BY SACHEM—THE WHITE MAN'S WIGWAM.
About midway between our party and the dusky group that stood watching us the four embassadors met. The Indians proved to be a band of Cheyennes, under White Wolf, or, as he is more frequently called, Medicine Wolf, out on the war-path against the Pawnees. The Wolf was a fine-looking man, six feet four in height, straight as an arrow, and developed like a giant. Being a chief, he possessed the regalia and warranty deed of one, consisting of a ragged military coat without any tail, and a dirty letter from some Indian agent, with a lie in it over which even a Cheyenne must have smiled, telling how White Wolf loved the whites. Perhaps he did; his namesake loves spring lamb.
Our guide was an indifferent interpreter, but had no difficulty in understanding that the Indians were hungry and wished something to eat. In all my experience from that day to this I have never found an Indian who was not hungry, except once. The exception was an old fellow who, although enough of an Indian to be habitually drunk, was so degenerate a specimen in other respects as to be somewhat dyspeptic. His stomach had repudiated, after receivinga deposit from a trader of one hundred pickled oysters, and had temporarily closed its doors. His stock of gastric juices seemed to have been well-nigh bankrupted by a fifty years' discounting of jerked buffalo. The one hundred tons of this compound which the noble warrior had dissolved would have exhausted the liquid of a tannery. Let these savages of the plains meet a white man, whenever or wherever they may, their first demand is always for meat and drink, followed not unfrequently by another for his scalp. The victim may have but a day's rations, and be a hundred miles from any station where more can be obtained, but his all is taken as greedily and remorselessly as if he commanded a commissary train.
The Professor and our guide motioned White Wolf and his companion to wait, and rode back to us for the purpose of casting up our account of ways and means. The only chance of balancing it seemed to be by sight draft on Shamus' wagon or an entry of war. We dare not refuse them and go on; they would be sure to dog our steps, and at the first convenient opportunity attack and probably murder us. Shamus, with recovered courage, stoutly protested against a raid upon his department. "To think," he expostulated, "of the swate sausage and ham bein' used to wad such painted carcasses as them divils!" The guide suggested as the best alternative that we should invite the Indians to return with us to Hays. We caught at the idea and adopted it immediately; and while the guide rode back as the bearer of our invitation, we "stood to arms," awaiting the result with silent but ill-concealed solicitude.
Should the Indians consider it an attempt to trap them, our bones might have an opportunity to rest in some neighboring ravine until the ready spades of some future geological expedition should disturb them, and we be at once reconstructed into some rare species of ancient ape or specimens of extinct salamanders. Or, if happily resurrected at a somewhat earlier period, might not some enterprising Barnum of the twentieth century place on our bones the seal of centuries, and lay them with the mummies in his showcases? Our expedition was partly intended for diving into the past, but not quite so deep or so permanent a dive as that. What wonder that incipient ague-chills played up and down and all about our spinal column, as we reflected how completely we were dependent on the caprice of those Native Americans sitting out there, in half-naked dignity, on their tough ponies? Or that we gazed anxiously at the huge chief as he sat, silent and motionless, awaiting the approach of our guide?
Our ideas of the savage had been so thoroughly Cooperised during boyhood, that when our guide approached the Wolf, and, with a gesture to the south, invited him back to Hays, I was prepared to see the tall form straighten in the saddle, and pictured to my imagination some such specimen of untutored eloquence as this:
"Pale-face, the blood of the Cheyenne burns quick. He meets you trailing like a serpent across his war-path, seeking to steal treasures from the red man's land. He asks food, and you tell him to come intoyour trap and get it. Pale-faces, remove your hats; noble Cheyennes, remove their scalps!"
Nothing of this kind occurred, however. Our guide informed us that the bold savage simply fastened one button of his tailless coat, grunted out "Ugh!" in a satisfied way, and motioned his band to follow. This they did, and we were soon retracing our steps to Hays; by the guide's advice, making the savages keep a fair distance behind us.
The roofs of Hays glistened across the plains, as they say those of Damascus do in the East. We had formed a boy's romantic acquaintance with that land, where the sun burns and the simooms frolic, and once were quite enamored of its wild Bedouins of the desert. Our manhood was now experiencing the sensation of seeing a tribe fiercer than their eastern brethren, not exactly at our doors, because we had none, but following very closely at our heels.
As our strange cavalcade re-entered the town the people stopped to gaze a moment, and then came out to meet us. News flew to the fort, and some of the officers rode over. The Land Company's office was selected for a council room, the Cheyennes tying their ponies to the stage corral near. The Indians were a strange-looking crew. Sachem declared them all women, and Dobeen affirmed that they looked more like a covey of witches than warriors. With their long hair divided in the middle, and falling, sometimes in braids and again loosely, over their shoulders, and their blankets hanging around them, they did really look much like the traditional squaw who so kindly assists one in cutting his eye-teeth at Niagara Falls,with her sharp practice and cheap bead-work. Their faces were as smooth as a woman's, without the least trace of either mustache or whiskers; so that, altogether, when we essayed to pick out some females, we got completely "mixed up," and were at length forced to the conclusion that the majestic White Wolf was traveling over the plains with a copper-colored harem.
Cooper having told us that the Indian term of reproach is to be or to look like a woman, we avoided offense and the "arrows of outrageous fortune" which an Indian is so dexterous in using, and gained the information desired by addressing a direct inquiry to White Wolf, through the interpreter, whether he had any squaws along. He replied by holding up two fingers and pointing out the couple thus designated. We tried to find, first in their features and then in their clothing, some distinguishing characteristic but found it impossible; so that when they changed positions an instant afterward, I was entirely at a loss to recognize them again.
All had extremely uninviting countenances, any one of which would have sufficed to hang three ordinary men, and a common villainy made them as much alike as forty-six nutmegs. White Wolf alone differed in appearance. He was stoutly built, as well as tall and straight, with broad features, the bronze of his complexion merging almost into white, and he smiled pleasantly and readily. The others were no more able to smile than Satan himself, the expression which their faces assumed when attempting it being simply diabolical. Dobeen was so startled by onewho tried that contortion on and asked for "tobac," that he retreated in disorder from the council-chamber.
White Wolf and the more important members of his band took the chairs proffered them, and sat in a circle, the Professor, Sachem, and two leading citizens of Hays being sandwiched in at proper intervals. The object of the gathering was gravely announced to be that the Indians might smoke the pipe of peace with the towns-people. As war was a chronic passion with these wild horsemen of the plains, none of them had ever been near the place in friendly mood before, and the novelty of the occasion, therefore, brought the entire population around the building. The postmaster of Hays, Mr. Hall, had once traded among the Cheyennes and, understanding their sign-language, acted as interpreter. This curious race has two distinct ways of conversing—one by mouth, in a singularly unmusical dialect, and the other by motions or signs with the hands. The latter is that most generally understood and employed by scouts and traders.
THE PIPE OF PEACE.THE PIPE OF PEACE—THE PROFESSOR'S DILEMMA.
One of the Indians now took from a sack a red-clay pipe, with a ridiculously long bowl and longer shank, and inserted into it a three-foot stem, profusely ornamented with brass tacks and a tassel of painted horse hair. This was handed to White Wolf, together with a small bag of tobacco, in which the Killikinnick leaves had been previously crumbled and mixed. These were a bright red, evidently used for their fragrance, as they only weakened the tobacco without adding any particular flavor. We were struck withthe Indian mode of smoking. The chief took a few quick whiffs, emitting the fumes with a hoarse blowing like a miniature steam-engine. He then passed it, mouth-piece down so that the saliva might escape, and it commenced a slow journey around the circle. When it reached our worthy professor he found himself in a sore dilemma. No smoke had ever curled along the roof of his mouth, or made a chimney of his geological nose. For an instant the philosopher hesitated; then, reflecting that passing the pipe would be worse than choking over it, the excellent man put the stem to his mouth and gave a pull which must have filled the remotest corner of his lungs with Killikinnick. Gasping amid the stifling cloud, it poured from both mouth and nose, and called on the way at his stomach, which gave unmistakable symptoms of distress. We feared that he would be forced to forsake the council, but, with an effort worthy of the occasion and himself, he kept his seat, and opening wide his mouth, waited patiently until the fiend of smoke had withdrawn from his interior its trailing garments.
The council disappointed us. In White Wolf we had found as fine-looking an Indian as ever murdered and stole upon his native continent. His people were first in war, first to break peace, and the last to keep it, their excuse being that the white man trespassed on their hunting grounds. We had rather expected that burly form to rise from his seat, and, with flashing eyes, utter then and there a flood of aboriginal eloquence: "White man, your people live where the sun rises, ours where it sets. When did you evercome to us hungry and be fed, or clothed and go away so," and so onad infinitum. Instead of all this there was a tremendous smoking and grunting, more like a farmer's fumigation of hogs than one of those pipe-of-peace councils which I had so often studied on canvas and in books. I have often regretted since that our aborigines can not read. If they could only learn from the white man's literature what they ought to be, the contrast between it and what they really are would be so violent that it might make an impression, even upon an Indian.
For a happy mingling of lies and truth our "big talk" could hardly be excelled. A reporter could have taken down the proceedings somewhat as follows:
Scene—Six Indians and as many white men in a ring. Postmaster Hall in the center, acting as interpreter.
Indian—"Cheyenne love white man much (lie). Forty-six warriors all hungry (truth). Us good Indians" (lie). And so on, alternately.
Pale Brother—"White man love Cheyenne. Got lots of food, but no whisky" (the latter a lie which almost choked the speaker).
It would not interest the reader to know all the repetitions or nonsense uttered, and we spare him the infliction of even attempting to tell him. The Indians had for their object food, and they got it. The whites had for their object permanent peace, and did not get it.
WHITE WOLF AT HOME.WHITE WOLF AT HOME."The red man is noble, big injun is me."
In due time the council broke up, and in an incredibly short time thereafter many of the Indians were reelingdrunk. That White Wolf did not become equally so was owing altogether to his being a man of iron constitution. Any thing but metal, it seemed to me, must have been burnt out by the fiery draughts which we saw the noble chief take down. A tin cupful of "whisk," such as would have made the cork in a bottle tight, was tossed off without a wink.
Sachem, who took notes, rendered White Wolf's speech at the council in verse, as follows:
White brother, have pity; the White Wolf is poor,The skin of his belly is shrunk to his back;A gallon of whisky is good for a cure,If followed by plenty of "bacon and tack."The red man is noble, big Injun is me:Like berries all crimson and ready to pick,The scalps on my pole are a heap good to see—Good medicine they when poor Injun is sick.The red man is truth, and the white one is lies;The first suffers wrong at hand of the other;The way they skin us is good for sore eyes,The way we skin them astonishing, rather.They rob us of guns and offer us plows,And tell us to farm it, to go into corn;We're good to raise hair, and good to raise rows,And good to raise essence of corn—in a horn.Go back to your cities and leave us our home,Or off with your scalp and that remnant of shirt;Go, let the poor Injun in happiness roam,And live on his buffalo, puppies, and dirt.
Two or three of the Indians mounted their ponies and took a race through the streets. The animals were thin, despondent brutes, but as wiry as if their hides were stuffed, like patent mattresses, full of springs. The Indians, as is their universal custom, mounted from the right side, instead of the left as we do. At the lower end of the street they got as nearly in line as their inebriated condition would permit, and when the word was given set off toward us with frightful shouts, which made the ponies scamper like so many frightened cats.
The animal which came out ahead had no rider to claim the honors, that blanketed jockey having fallen off midway. He was now sitting on his hams, looking the wrong way down the track, and evidently adding up the "book" which he had made for the race. As he soon arose, with a dissatisfied grunt, we thought his figures probably read about as follows:
Given—A gallon of Hays whisky in the saddle, and a race-horse under it. Endeavor to divide the latter by a rawhide whip, and the result is a sore-headed Indian, who stands forfeit to his peers for "the drinks."
As we wandered back to the council-chamber, the scene there had changed somewhat. White Wolf had been transformed into a cavalry colonel, and was strutting around with two gilt eagles on his broad shoulders, looking fully as important as many a real colonel whom we have caught in his pin feathers and, withal, much more of the hero. Our warrior had seen some of the officers from the fortstrolling around, and straightway fell to coveting his neighbors' straps, which observing, Sachem at once purchased from a store the emblems of power and pinned them upon him. He whispered to us that when White Wolf took his first step as a colonel, it had been accompanied by a snort of pain, the unlucky slipping of a pin having evidently conveyed to the chief the idea that one of the eagles had grasped his shoulder in its talons.
The chief modestly requested similar honors for his "papoose," and that individual was treated to the straps of a captain. A different application of strap, it occurred to me, would have seemed more proper upon the six feet of unpromising humanity which appeared above the "papoose's" moccasins.
It had been a matter of surprise to us how the Indians could make such inferior looking stock as theirs capable of such speed and extraordinary journeys; but it ceased to excite our wonder after an examination of their whips. These ingenious instruments of torture have handles, which in form and size resemble a policeman's club. To one end are attached some thongs of thick leather, half a yard in length, and to the other a loop of the same material, just large enough to go over the hand and bind slightly on the wrist. Dangling from the latter, the handle can be instantly grasped, and the body of thongs brought down on the pony's skin, with a crack like a flail on the sheaves, and the result is what Sachem called an astonishing "shelling out" of speed.
We explained to White Wolf that TammanySachem was one of many great chiefs who had a mighty wigwam in the big city of the pale-faces, far away toward the rising sun; that they were all good men, and never lied like the chiefs of the Cheyennes, or took any thing belonging to others; and that their women, instead of carrying heavy burdens, spent all their time in distributing the money and goods of the big wigwam to the needy.
White Wolf signified, through the interpreter, that such a wigwam was too good for earth, and ought to be pitched on the happy hunting grounds as soon as possible.
Sachem thought the savage meant to be sarcastic.
ARMS OF A WAR PARTY—A DONKEY PRESENT—EATING POWERS OF THE NOMADS—SATANTA, HIS CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT—RUNNING OFF WITH A GOVERNMENT HERD—DAUB, OUR ARTIST—ANTELOPE CHASE BY A GREYHOUND.
ARMS OF A WAR PARTY—A DONKEY PRESENT—EATING POWERS OF THE NOMADS—SATANTA, HIS CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT—RUNNING OFF WITH A GOVERNMENT HERD—DAUB, OUR ARTIST—ANTELOPE CHASE BY A GREYHOUND.
At our request White Wolf and two of his braves gave us a display of their skill—or rather, their strength—in the use of their bows, shooting their arrows at a stake sixty yards off. The efforts were what would be called good "line shots," although missing the slender stick. We then essayed a trial with the chief's bow, which was an exceedingly stout hickory wrapped in sinew, but we found that more practiced strength than ours was required even to bend it. Some amusement was created when the first of our party took up the bow, by the haste with which a small and unusually ugly Indian retreated from the foreground as if fearing that an arrow might be accidentally sent through his blanket.
Among the stock which the savages had brought with them was a long-eared, diminutive brute, scarcely higher than a table, and apparently forming the connecting link between a jackass rabbit and a donkey. This animal White Wolf seemed extremely anxious to present to the Professor, but it waspolitely declined, by the advice of the interpreter, who explained to us that a return gift of the donkey's weight in sugar and coffee would be expected. Notwithstanding the stringency of the law forbidding the sale of whisky and ammunitions to the Indians, the savages found little difficulty in filling themselves with fire-water, and also got a little powder. White Wolf went off with his pocket full of cartridges in exchange for some Indian commodities, but the cunning pale face rendered them of little value by selecting ammunition a size too small for the gun.
The eating powers of these nomads are marvelous. We saw the chief, inside of two hours, devour three hearty dinners, one of which was gotten up from our own larder and was both good and plentiful. As he did full justice to every invitation to eat and drink, we concluded that he would continue to accept during the whole afternoon, if the opportunity were only offered him. What a capital minister to England was here wasting his gastric juices on the desert air! If Great Britain should continue her hesitation to digest our Alabama claims, the wolf at their door would digest enough roast beef to bring them to terms or starvation. Sugar, coffee, spices, pickles, sardines, ham, and many another luxury of civilization, were alike welcome at the capacious portal of the untutored savage. Dobeen discovered him eating a can of our condensed milk under the impression that it was a sweet porridge.
Their entertainment at the town being concluded, the Indians were conducted over to the fort andsome rations given them. They manifested an especial fondness for sugar, but took any thing they could get, their ponies proving capable of carrying an unlimited number of sacks. It seemed as difficult to overload these animals as it is a Broadway omnibus; and their riders, perhaps in order to avoid being top heavy, took freight for the inside whenever opportunity offered. As they came back through the town, we all turned out to see them off. The band promised us peace, notwithstanding which it was no small satisfaction to discover that they were poorly armed. Bows and arrows were the only weapons which all possessed, and while a few had revolvers, the chief alone sported a rifle, a rusty-looking old breech-loader.
As our late cavalry escort rode off, their attitudes plainly bespoke that they had been raiding upon more than the flesh-pots of Egypt. Sons of the sandy-complexioned desert, we saw several of them kiss their mother before they got out of sight. The most serious question with us now was whether or not these red gormandizers had been uttering peace notes not properly indorsed by their hearts. The trouble is that when one discovers a circulation of this kind, his own ceases about the same instant, and his bones become a fixed investment in the fertile soil of the plains.
One of the officers of the fort told us an amusing instance of the impudent treachery of which the western Indians of to-day are sometimes guilty. A year or two before, when Hancock commanded the Department and was encamped near Fort Dodge, onthe Arkansas, Satanta and his band of Kiowas came in. This chief has always been known as very hostile to the whites, usually being the first of his tribe to commence hostilities. He was the very embodiment of treachery, ferocity, and bravado. Phrenologically considered, his head must have been a cranial marvel, and the bumps on it mapping out the kingdom of evil a sort of Rocky Mountain chain towering over the more peaceful valleys around. Viewed from the towering peaks of combativeness and acquisitiveness the territory of his past would reveal to the phrenologist an untold number of government mules, fenced in by sutler's stores, while bending over the bloody trail leading back almost to his bark cradle, would be the shades of many mothers and wives, searching among the wrecks of emigrant trains for flesh of their flesh and bone of their bone.
Satanta was long a name on the plains to hate and abhor. He was an abject beggar in the pale faces' camp and a demon on their trail. On the occasion in question he came to Gen. Hancock with protestations of friendship, and, although these were not believed, he was treated precisely as if they had been. To gratify his love of finery an old military coat with general's stars, said to be one that Hancock himself had cast off, was presented him. By some means he also acquired a bugle, and the garrison were greatly amused for the remainder of the day by seeing Satanta galloping back and forth before his band, blowing his bugle and parading his coat, the warriors all cheering the old cut-throat and proud as himselfof the display. The way he handled that bugle, however, before the next morning was by no means so amusing.
Some time before dawn the sleepy garrison were aroused by the thunders of a stock stampede, and out of the darkness came the clatter of hoofs, as Satanta and his band departed for the south with a goodly herd of government mules and horses. Pursuit was commenced at once, with the hope of cutting them off before they could get the stock across the Arkansas, then somewhat swollen. Just as the troops reached the bank of that stream, a major-general's uniform was seen going out of the water upon the other side. Notwithstanding its high rank fire was instantly opened upon it, but ineffectually. The savage turned a moment, blew a shrill, defiant blast upon his bugle, and galloped off in safety. Too much promotion made him mad. As a simple chief, he might have stolen some straggling teams; as a major-general, he appropriated a whole herd.
During the next eighteen months, Satanta had several encounters with the troops, generally wearing the major-general's coat and blowing his bugle. His last exploit, which brought the long hesitating sword of justice upon his head, is too fresh and too painful to be soon forgotten. A few months ago the savage chief was living with his people on a reserve in the Indian Territory and being fed by the government. Gathering a few of his warriors he stole forth, and, crossing the Texas border, surprised a wagon train, murdered the teamsters, and drove off the mules. Fortunately, Gen. Sherman, in his examination offrontier posts, happened to be near the scene of murder, and at once ordered troops in pursuit. They were still trailing the marauders when Satanta returned to the reservation at Fort Sill, and with bold effrontery begotten of long immunity, actually boasted of the crime before the Quaker agent. "I did it," said he, "and if any other chief says it was him, tell him he lies. I am the man." Gen. Sherman had just arrived, and when Satanta, with a number of minor chiefs who were with him on the raid, came into the fort to trade and visit, they were seized and bound, and started for Texas under a strong guard, to be tried by the authorities there. On the way one of the Indians in some manner loosened his bands, and seizing the musket of the guard nearest him, shot the soldier in the shoulder, but before he could do further harm the other guards fired, and the savage rolled from the wagon down upon the plain, apparently dead. The body was afterward found close by the road-side in a position which showed that after falling the savage had enough of vitality left to enable him to crawl with bloody hands for several yards. Finding the life-tide ebbing fast, he had then placed his body in position toward the rising sun, composed his arms by his side and, with Indian stoicism, yielded up his breath. The remainder of the party, including Satanta, were brought safely to Texas, tried, and sentenced to be hanged.
Our adventure with White Wolf and his band obliged us, of course, to pass another night in Hays. We spent a most pleasant hour during the evening in the office of Dr. John Moore, an old resident ofPlattsburg, N. Y., who assisted us materially in selecting medical stores, and who by his genial disposition endeared himself to our entire party, so that when we heard of his sad fate soon afterward, it seemed as if death had crouched by our own camp-fire. Should the Indians become troublesome, there was some talk at the fort, he now informed us, of organizing a company for operations against them, composed of buffalo hunters and scouts under the lead of regular officers, and in this case it was his purpose to accompany it in the capacity of a surgeon. As good guns were difficult to obtain there, and we had some extra weapons, one of our party loaned the doctor an improved Henry rifle and holster revolvers. Before we again heard of him, he had crossed that shadowy line which winds between the tombs and habitations of men, and his name was added to the drearily long list which bears for its heading—"Killed by Indians."
Commencing with those first entries after the Mayflower introduced our fathers to savage audience, and chiseling separately each name on a marble milestone, the white witnesses would girdle the earth.
Sunrise next morning saw us again moving northward, fully determined that no body of Indians, unless comprising the whole Cheyenne nation, should force us back again. We had met the red man on his native heath and familiarity had bred contempt. All were in excellent spirits and felt the braver, perhaps, because our late visitors had assured us that their tribe was on the war-path against the Pawnees, and meant only peace with the whites.
Our party left Hays the second time with quite an acquisition. On the eve of starting we had been approached by an artist, who begged permission to accompany us. We assented on the instant. An artist was, of all others, the thing we needed. How interesting it would be to have the thrilling incidents of the coming months sketched by our artist on the spot. "Daub" was a fine-looking fellow, with peaked hat, peaked beard, and peaked mustache; in short, was of the genuine artist cut, of the kind that are always sitting around on the stones in romantic places and getting married to heiresses.
During the day we saw many varieties of the cactus, some of them very beautiful. As we had no regular botanist with our expedition, Mr. Colon developed a taste in that direction, and secured and deposited several fine specimens which were carefully laid away in Shamus' wagon. It was not long before that excellent Irishman gave a prolonged howl, the cause of which he did not vouchsafe to tell us, but as we saw him cautiously rubbing his pantaloons we surmised that he had rolled or sat down upon a choice variety. The remainder of the plants he must, with still greater caution, have dropped overboard, as none could subsequently be found for boxing. If the truth must be said, I was not at all sorry for it. I had lent a hand in obtaining an unusually large cactus, but the loan was returned in such damaged condition that I lost all interest at once. The minute needles which nature has scattered over these plants will pierce a glove readily, and burrow in the flesh liketrichina. The cactus may be set down as Dame Nature's pin-cushions.
Endless prairie-dog villages covered the country, and occasionally cayotes, about the size of setters, with brushy, fox-like tails, started out of ravines and ran off with a hang-dog sort of look, stopping occasionally to see if they were being pursued. Our guide ran one of these down with his horse and it was almost with sympathy that we watched the tired wolf, when he found running useless, dodging between the horse's legs, rendering the rider's aim false. It was finally dispatched by a greyhound. The latter deserved his name only from courtesy of species, as his color was inky black. He belonged to one of our hostlers, who got him from a Mexican train-master, and was a wonderful fighter. I saw him afterward in combats with not only the cayote, but the large timber wolf, and in every instance he came off the victor. On one occasion, I remember, he whipped the combined curs of a railroad tie camp, making every antagonist take to his heels. Very nearly as high as a table, with powerful chest and immense spring, the hound's movements were like flashes of light. He danced round and over his foe, his fangs clicking like a steel trap, first on one side and now on the other, and again, ere his enemy had closed its jaws on the shadow in front, he was at the rear. I have seen a gray wolf bleeding and helpless, and the hound untouched, after a half hour's combat.
On the north fork of Big Creek we frightened a dozen antelopes out of the brakes, and had a fine opportunity of witnessing a chase by the hound whichalone was worth a journey to the plains to see. I remember having been very much interested, when a boy, in reading accounts of gazelle hunting in the Orient, where hawks and dogs are both used. The former pounce down from the air on the fleet-footed victim's head, compelling it to stop every few moments to shake its unwelcome passenger off, and the dogs are thus enabled to overtake it. This always seemed to me a cowardly sort of sport. The harmless victim of the chase, who can not touch the earth without its turning tell-tale to the keen-scented pursuer, should not be robbed of his only refuge, speed, or the pursuit becomes butchery.
The American antelope upon our plains is what the gazelle is upon those of Africa. Timid and fleet, it often detects and avoids danger to which its powerful neighbor, the buffalo, falls a victim. The group which we had frightened bounded away with an elasticity as if nature had furnished them hoofs and joints of rubber. There was no apparent effort in their motion, and we imagined larger powers in reserve than really existed. As the greyhound slowly gained upon them, we noticed this, and the Professor thereupon delivered what Sachem aptly styled a running discourse.
"Gentlemen, poetry of motion, perhaps by poetical license, gives exaggerated ideas of force. A smooth-running engine, though taxed to its utmost capacity, seems capable of accomplishing more, while its wheezing neighbor, groaning and straining as if on the verge of dissolution, has abundant powers in reserve. Some Hercules may lift a weight on whicha straw more would seem to him large enough to sustain the traditional drowning man. The feat marks itself by a life-long backache, but, if he has performed it gracefully, he bears with it a reputation for a fabulous reserve of power, the exhibition seeming but the safety valve to his supposed giant forces struggling for expression."
Our learned friend seldom found us less attentive than then. All the wagons were stopped, and from every elevation upon them we looked out over the solitudes at the race going on before us. Pursuer and pursued were pitting against each other the same quality—speed. There was no lying in ambush or taking unawares. The fleetest-footed of game was flying before the swiftest of dogs. There could be no trailing, as these hounds run only by sight. What a straining of muscles! The low ridge barely lifting the animals against the horizon, their legs, from rapidity of motion, were invisible, and the bodies, for a short space, seemed floating in air. It was one short, black line, running rapidly into twelve gray ones, these latter resolving occasionally into as many balls of white cotton, when the puffy, rabbit-like tails of the antelopes were turned toward us. Two of the best mounted horsemen from our party had started with the chase, but seemed scarcely moving, so rapidly were they left behind.
Twice we thought the hound had closed, but instantly succeeding views showed daylight still between, although the narrow strip was being blotted out with the same regular certainty with which the dark slide of the magic lantern seizes the figures onthe wall. Down into a ravine, and out of sight they passed, and we were fearing thefinalewould be hidden, when they came into view on the opposite side and pressed up the bank. The bounds of the hound were magnificent, and we all gave a cry of admiration, as with a splendid effort he launched himself like a black ball upon the herd. In an instant after we saw him hurled back and taking a very unvictor-like roll down the hill. He quickly recovered, however, and fastened on an antelope which seemed lagging behind. His first selection, the leader of the herd, had proved an unfortunate one, and he bore a bruise for some time where the buck had struck him with his horns.
The second seizure turned out to be a doe, and was quite dead when we reached it. The victor was lying along side, looking very much as if one antelope hunt a day was sufficient for even a greyhound. We noticed that the hair was rubbed off from the doe's sides by its struggles, and on passing our hands over the neck found that its coarse coat parted from the skin at a slight touch. This peculiarity in the antelope is very marked. In a subsequent hunt I once saw a wounded buck plunge forward, roll along the ground for a few feet, and then run off with the bare skin along his entire side showing just where he had struck the earth.
One of our party produced a knife, and the animal was bled and the entrails taken out. We seemed destined to have a mishap with every adventure, and had already learned to expect such sequences, the only question being whose turn should come next.This time it proved to be Semi-Colon's. We were a mile from the wagons, and Semi's horse, being considered the most thoroughly broken, was nominated to bear the game to them. To this proceeding Cynocephalus seemed in nowise indisposed, quietly submitting to the management of one of the hostlers and our guide, as they lashed the antelope across his back, securing it to the rear of the large Texas saddle with the powerful straps which always hang there for purposes of this kind. This accomplished, Semi climbed into the saddle, gave a click and a kick, and set his steed in motion. That eccentric assemblage of bones made one spasmodic step forward, which brought the bloody, hairy carcass with a swing against his loins.
What a change that touch produced! Those wasted nostrils emitted a terrific snort, the stiff stump-tail jerked upward like the lever of a locomotive, and with a dart Cynocephalus was off across the plains. He probably imagined that some beast of prey had coveted his spare-ribs, and was whetting its teeth on the vantage-ground of his backbone. Occasionally the frightened animal would slack up and indulge in a fit of kicking, looking back meanwhile with terror at the object fastened upon his hide, then plunge frantically forward again. The antelope stuck to the saddle for some time, but not so Semi-Colon. The first of these irregular proceedings caused that young man, as Sachem expressed it, "to get off upon his head." Cynocephalus finally burst his saddle-girths, and we were obliged to furnish other transportation for our game.
Let me say,en passant, that I am trying to chronicle minutely the events which befel our half-scientific, half-sporting, and somewhat incongruous party on its trip through Buffalo Land; and, although my readers may think us particularly unfortunate, we really suffered no more than amateurs usually do. My object is to set up guide boards at the dangerous places, that other travelers may avoid the pitfalls and the perils into which we fell. And to every amateur hunter we beg to offer this advice: Never tie dead game upon a strange horse unless you owe the rider a grudge.
"Young men," said the Doctor, from his saddle, "you have seen a beautiful illustration in the theory of development. The hound and the antelope may have been originally an oyster and a worm. From their first slow motion, when one only opened its jaws to seize the other, they have progressed until the speed of to-day results. Should the hound ever become wild, and pursuit and flight change to an every-day matter instead of a holiday-sport, development would still continue. A giraffe-like antelope, with the speed of the wind, would fly before a hound the size of a stag." The Doctor's "clinic," as Sachem called it, was suddenly cut short at this point by a struggle for mastery between himself and the human spirit concealed in his horse.
"How much," exclaimed the Professor, when Pythagoras had at length come off triumphant, and we again moved forward—"How much the race that we have witnessed is like that we all run. Powerful and eager as the greyhound, man sees flying before him,on the plain of life, an object which he thirsts to grasp. Taxing every muscle in pursuit, panting after it over the smooth country below the 40th mile-post, he crosses there the ravine where rheumatism and straggling gray hairs lurk, and with these clinging to him, starts up the hill of later life. Half-way to its summit, on which the three-score stone marking the down-hill grade looks uncomfortably like that over a tomb, he seizes the object of pursuit only to be flung back by it bruised. If of the proper metal, he falls but to rise again, and should the first wish be out of reach, fastens on one of its companions. There is where blood tells. If the least taint of cur is in it the first blow sends its recipient yelling to his kennel, there to whine for the remainder of life over bruised ribs."
Muggs thought a single toss was sufficient, and retreat then only prudence. If the bones on one side were broken, he saw no reason to expose the other. Dying successful was only procuring meat for others to enjoy.
The Professor was developing a remarkable talent for finding not only the stones of the past written all over with a wonderful and translatable history, but also the moral connected with each incident of our journey. Had any of us broken our necks he would doubtless have improved the occasion to draw a comparison and have made it the text of a philosophic disquisition.
CHARACTER OF THE PLAINS—BUFFALO BILL AND HIS HORSE BRIGHAM—THE GUIDE AND SCOUT OF ROMANCE—CAYOTE VERSUS JACKASS-RABBIT—A LAWYER-LIKE RESCUE—OUR CAMP ON SILVER CREEK—UNCLE SAM'S BUFFALO HERDS—TURKEY SHOOTING—OUR FIRST MEAL ON THE PLAINS—A GAME SUPPER.
CHARACTER OF THE PLAINS—BUFFALO BILL AND HIS HORSE BRIGHAM—THE GUIDE AND SCOUT OF ROMANCE—CAYOTE VERSUS JACKASS-RABBIT—A LAWYER-LIKE RESCUE—OUR CAMP ON SILVER CREEK—UNCLE SAM'S BUFFALO HERDS—TURKEY SHOOTING—OUR FIRST MEAL ON THE PLAINS—A GAME SUPPER.
Our trail was taking us west of north, and we expected to reach the Saline about dusk and there encamp. The same strange evenness of country surrounded us. Over its surface, smooth and firm as a race track, we could drive a wagon or gallop a horse in any direction. Even the Bedouin has no such field for cavalry practice—his footing being shifting sand, while ours was the compact buffalo grass, so short that its existence at all could scarcely have been detected a few yards away. Sachem said he could think of no such cavalry field except that of his boyhood, when he slipped into the parlor and pranced his rocking-horse over the soft carpet; with which memory, he added, was coupled another, to the effect that while thus skirmishing on dangerous ground, his cavalry was attacked from the rear by heavy infantry and badly cut up.
Numerous buffalo trails crossed our path, running invariably north and south. This is caused by the animals feeding from one stream to another, the water courses following the dip of the country's surfacefrom west to east. Wallows were also very numerous, and we noticed as a peculiarity of these, as well as the paths, that the grass killed by treading and rolling does not renew itself when the spots are abandoned. More than once on the Grand Prairie of Illinois I have seen these wallows, made before the knowledge of the white man, still remaining destitute of grass.
An old bull who has been rolling when the wallow is muddy, is an interesting object. The clay plastered over and tangled in his shaggy coat bakes in the sun very nearly white; and this it was, probably, that gave rise to the early traditions of white buffalo.
Wherever on our route the rock cropped out along creeks or in ravines, it was the white magnesia limestone, and so soft as to be easily cut. Further west alternate pink and white veins occur, giving the stone a very beautiful appearance. We frequently found on the rocks and in the ravines deposits of very perfect shells, apparently those of oysters. Sachem suggested that they marked the location of pre-historic restaurants—the Delmonicos of the olden time, say fifty thousand years before the Pharaohs were born. He thought it possible that some future quarry-man might blast out an oyster-knife and money pot of quaint coins.
Muggs thought this patch of our continent resembled Australia—"Not that it is as rich, you know, but there's so much of it." He even became enthusiastic enough to affirm that the land might be made profitable, "if some Hinglish sheep and 'eifers were put on it, you see."
The Professor assured us that the country around was equal to the plains of Lombardy in point of fertility, and as the soil was of great depth, and rich in the proper mineral properties, it would undoubtedly become before 1890 the great wheat-producing region of the world.
Our party fell into silence again, and, having nothing else to interest me at the moment, I resumed my study, which this episode had interrupted, of Buffalo Bill, our guide. Athletic and shrewd, he rode ahead of us with sinews of iron and eye ever on the alert, clad in a suit of buckskin. His mount was a tough roan pony which he had named Brigham and of which he seemed very fond. Nevertheless, this fondness did not prevent hard riding, and when I last saw Brigham, several months afterward, he was a very sorry-looking animal, insomuch that I concluded not to have his photograph taken as that of a model steed for Buffalo Land, as I once contemplated doing.
It was extremely fortunate for us that we had secured Cody as guide. The whole western country bordering on the plains, as we afterward learned, from sorry experience, is infested with numberless charlatans, blazing with all sorts of hunting and fighting titles, and ready at the rustle of greenbacks to act as guides through a land they know nothing about. These reprobates delight in telling thrilling tales of their escapes from Indians, and are constantly chilling the blood of their shivering party by pointing out spots where imaginary murders took place. Without compasses they would be as hopelessly lost as needleless mariners. I have my doubtsif one-third of these terribly named bullies could tell, on a pinch, where the north star is. Unless they chanced to strike one of the Pacific lines which stretch across the plains, a party, under their guidance, wishing to go west would be equally liable to get among the Northern Siouxs or the Ku-Klux of Arkansas.
A thousand miles east Young America's cherished ideal of the frontier scout and guide is an eagle-eyed giant, with a horse which obeys his whistle, and breaks the neck of any Indian trying to steal him. In addition to its wonderful master, the back of this model steed is usually occupied by a rescued maiden. At risk of infringing on the copyrights of thirty-six thousand of the latest Indian stories, we have obtained from an artist on the spot an illustration of the last heroine brought in and her rescuer, the rare old plainsman.[1]
Cody had all the frontiersman's fondness for practical jokes, and delighted in designating Mr. Colon as "Mr. Boston," as if accidentally confounding the residence with the name. In one instance, with a cry of "Come, Mr. Boston, here's a specimen!" he enticed the philanthropist into the eager pursuit of a beautiful little animal through some rank bottom grass, and brought the good man back in such a condition that we unanimously insisted on his traveling to leeward for the rest of the day.
While we thus journeyed, and, in traditional traveler's style, mused and pondered, Shamus came running back to say that we were wanted in front. "Such a goin' on in the ravine beyant as bates a witch's dance all holly!" We saw that the forward wagons had halted and the men were peeringcautiously over the edge of the highland into the valley of Silver Creek, which stream wound along below, entirely out of sight until one came directly upon it. In this lonely land, the pages of whose history Time had so often turned with bloody fingers, an event slight as even this was startling. That hollow in the plain before us seemed to yawn, as if awaking in sleepy horrors, and we noticed a general tightening of reins and rattling of spurs. This maneuver was executed to prevent our horses running away again and thus rendering us incapable of supporting our advanced guard. If savages were around, our provisions must be protected, and we at once dismounted and scattered among the teams in such a way as to offer the most successful defense.
Our fears were groundless. In a few moments Cody came galloping back on Brigham, and said briefly that we should lose a fine lesson in natural history unless we hurried to the front. Truth compels me to say that we did not hanker after a close acquaintance with Lo on the rampage; yet we did earnestly desire to improve every opportunity of studying the other inhabitants of the plains, and a few moments accordingly found our whole party peering over the edge of the bluff into the valley below.