got."
"Ha! an' fat is to be give to me for my broke
shoulder?"
"Credit, man, credit," said Dick Varley, laughing.
"Credit! fat is dat?"
"Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them
savages."
"Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de
rascale. I seed dem scowl at me not ver' pritty."
"That's true, Henri; but sich as it is it's all ye'll git."
"I vish," remarked Henri after a pause--"I vish I
could git de vampum belt de leetle chief had on. It
vas superb. Fat place do vampums come from?"
"They're shells--"
"Oui," interrupted Henri; "I know
fat
dey is. Dey
is shells, and de Injuns tink dem goot monish, mais I
ask you
fat place
de come from."
"They are thought to be gathered on the shores o'
the Pacific," said Joe. "The Injuns on the west o' the
Rocky Mountains picks them up and exchanges them
wi' the fellows hereaway for horses and skins--so I'm
told."
At this moment there was a wild cry of terror heard
a short distance ahead of them. Rushing forward they
observed an Indian woman flying frantically down the
river's bank towards the waterfall, a hundred yards
above which an object was seen struggling in the water.
"'Tis her child," cried Joe, as the mother's frantic cry
reached his ear. "It'll be over the fall in a minute!
Run, Dick, you're quickest."
They had all started forward at speed, but Dick and
Crusoe were far ahead, and abreast of the spot in a few
seconds.
"Save it, pup," cried Dick, pointing to the child,
which had been caught in an eddy, and was for a few
moments hovering on the edge of the stream that rushed
impetuously towards the fall.
The noble Newfoundland did not require to be told
what to do. It seems a natural instinct in this sagacious
species of dog to save man or beast that chances
to be struggling in the water, and many are the authentic
stories related of Newfoundland dogs saving life in cases
of shipwreck. Indeed, they are regularly trained to the
work in some countries; and nobly, fearlessly, disinterestedly
do they discharge their trust, often in the midst
of appalling dangers. Crusoe sprang from the bank
with such impetus that his broad chest ploughed up the
water like the bow of a boat, and the energetic workings
of his muscles were indicated by the force of each
successive propulsion as he shot ahead.
In a few seconds he reached the child and caught it
by the hair. Then he turned to swim back, but the
stream had got hold of him. Bravely he struggled, and
lifted the child breast-high out of the water in his
powerful efforts to stem the current. In vain. Each
moment he was carried inch by inch down until he was
on the brink of the fall, which, though not high, was a
large body of water and fell with a heavy roar. He
raised himself high out of the stream with the vigour of
his last struggle, and then fell back into the abyss.
By this time the poor mother was in a canoe as close
to the fall as she could with safety approach, and the
little bark danced like a cockle-shell on the turmoil of
waters as she stood with uplifted paddle and staring
eyeballs awaiting the rising of the child.
Crusoe came up almost instantly, but
alone
, for the
dash over the fall had wrenched the child from his teeth.
He raised himself high up, and looked anxiously round
for a moment. Then he caught sight of a little hand
raised above the boiling flood. In one moment he had
the child again by the hair, and just as the prow of the
Indian woman's canoe touched the shore he brought the
child to land.
Springing towards him, the mother snatched her child
from the flood, and gazed at its death-like face with eyeballs
starting from their sockets. Then she laid her
cheek on its cold breast, and stood like a statue of despair.
There was one slight pulsation of the heart and
a gentle motion of the hand! The child still lived.
Opening up her blanket she laid her little one against
her naked, warm bosom, drew the covering close around
it, and sitting down on the bank wept aloud for joy.
"Come--come 'way quick," cried Henri, hurrying off
to hide the emotion which he could not crush down.
"Ay, she don't need our help now," said Joe, following
his comrade.
As for Crusoe, he walked along by his master's side
with his usual quiet, serene look of good-will towards all
mankind. Doubtless a feeling of gladness at having
saved a human life filled his shaggy breast, for he wagged
his tail gently after each shake of his dripping sides;
but his meek eyes were downcast, save when raised to
receive the welcome and unusually fervent caress. Crusoe
did not know that those three men loved him as
though he had been a brother.
On their way back to the village the hunters were
met by a little boy, who said that a council was to be
held immediately, and their presence was requested.
The council was held in the tent of the principal
chief, towards which all the other chiefs and many of
the noted braves hurried. Like all Indian councils, it
was preceded by smoking the "medicine pipe," and was
followed by speeches from several of the best orators.
The substance of the discourse differed little from what
has been already related in reference to the treaty between
the Pale-faces, and upon the whole it was satisfactory.
But Joe Blunt could not fail to notice that
Mahtawa maintained sullen silence during the whole
course of the meeting.
He observed also that there was a considerable change
in the tone of the meeting when he informed them that
he was bound on a similar errand of peace to several of
the other tribes, especially to one or two tribes which
were the Pawnees' bitter enemies at that time. These
grasping savages having quite made up their minds that
they were to obtain the entire contents of the two bales
of goods, were much mortified on hearing that part was
to go to other Indian tribes. Some of them even hinted
that this would not be allowed, and Joe feared at one
time that things were going to take an unfavourable
turn. The hair of his scalp, as he afterwards said,
"began to lift a little and feel oneasy." But San-it-sa-rish
stood honestly to his word, said that it would be
well that the Pale-faces and the Pawnees should be
brothers, and hoped that they would not forget the
promise of annual presents from the hand of the great
chief who lived in the big village near the rising sun.
Having settled this matter amicably, Joe distributed
among the Indians the proportion of his goods designed
for them; and then they all adjourned to another tent,
where a great feast was prepared for them.
"Are ye hungry?" inquired Joe of Dick as they
walked along.
"Ay, that am I. I feel as if I could eat a buffalo
alive. Why, it's my 'pinion we've tasted nothin' since
daybreak-this mornin'."
"Well, I've often told ye that them Redskins think
it a disgrace to give in eatin' till all that's set before
them at a feast is bolted. We'll ha' to stretch oursel's,
we will."
"I'se got a plenty room," remarked Henri.
"Ye have, but ye'll wish ye had more in a little."
"Bien, I not care!"
In quarter of an hour all the guests invited to this
great "medicine feast" were assembled. No women were
admitted. They never are at Indian feasts.
We may remark in passing that the word "medicine,"
as used among the North American Indians, has a very
much wider signification than it has with us. It is an
almost inexplicable word. When asked, they cannot
give a full or satisfactory explanation of it themselves.
In the general, we may say that whatever is mysterious
is "medicine." Jugglery and conjuring, of a noisy,
mysterious, and, we must add, rather silly nature, is
"medicine," and the juggler is a "medicine man." These
medicine men undertake cures; but they are regular
charlatans, and know nothing whatever of the diseases
they pretend to cure or their remedies. They carry
bags containing sundry relics; these are "medicine bags."
Every brave has his own private medicine bag. Everything
that is incomprehensible, or supposed to be supernatural,
religious, or medical, is "medicine." This feast,
being an unusual one, in honour of strangers, and in
connection with a peculiar and unexpected event, was
"medicine." Even Crusoe, since his gallant conduct in
saving the Indian child, was "medicine;" and Dick
Varley's double-barrelled rifle, which had been an object
of wonder ever since his arrival at the village, was
tremendous "medicine!"
Of course the Indians were arrayed in their best.
Several wore necklaces of the claws of the grizzly bear,
of which they are extremely proud; and a gaudily picturesque
group they were. The chief, however, had
undergone a transformation that well-nigh upset the
gravity of our hunters, and rendered Dick's efforts to
look solemn quite abortive. San-it-sa-rish had once been
to the trading-forts of the Pale-faces, and while there
had received the customary gift of a blue surtout with
brass buttons, and an ordinary hat, such as gentlemen
wear at home. As the coat was a good deal too small
for him, a terrible length of dark, bony wrist appeared
below the cuffs. The waist was too high, and it was
with great difficulty that he managed to button the
garment across his broad chest. Being ignorant of the
nature of a hat, the worthy savage had allowed the
paper and string with which it had been originally
covered to remain on, supposing them to be part and
parcel of the hat; and this, together with the high collar
of the coat, which gave him a crushed-up appearance,
the long black naked legs, and the painted visage, gave
to him a
tout ensemble
which we can compare to nothing,
as there was nothing in nature comparable to it.
Those guests who assembled first passed their time in
smoking the medicine pipe until the others should arrive,
for so long as a single invited guest is absent the feast
cannot begin. Dignified silence was maintained while
the pipe thus circulated from hand to hand. When the
last guest arrived they began.
The men were seated in two rows, face to face.
Feasts of this kind usually consist of but one species of
food, and on the present occasion it was an enormous
caldron full of maize which had to be devoured. About
fifty sat down to eat a quantity of what may be termed
thick porridge that would have been ample allowance
for a hundred ordinary men. Before commencing, San-it-sa-rish
desired an aged medicine man to make an oration,
which he did fluently and poetically. Its subject
was the praise of the giver of the feast. At the end of
each period there was a general "hou! hou!" of assent--equivalent
to the "hear! hear!" of civilized men.
Other orators then followed, all of whom spoke with
great ease and fluency, and some in the most impassioned
strains, working themselves and their audience up to the
highest pitch of excitement, now shouting with frenzied
violence till their eyes glared from their sockets and the
veins of their foreheads swelled almost to bursting as
they spoke of war and chase, anon breaking into soft
modulated and pleasing tones while they dilated upon
the pleasures of peace and hospitality.
After these had finished, a number of wooden bowls
full of maize porridge were put down between the guests--one
bowl to each couple facing each other. But before
commencing a portion was laid aside and dedicated to
their gods, with various mysterious ceremonies; for here,
as in other places where the gospel is not known, the
poor savages fancied that they could propitiate God with
sacrifices. They had never heard of the "sacrifice of a
broken spirit and a contrite heart." This offering being
made, the feast began in earnest. Not only was it a
rule in this feast that every mouthful should be swallowed
by each guest, however unwilling and unable he
should be to do so, but he who could dispose of it with
greatest speed was deemed the greatest man--at least
on that occasion--while the last to conclude his supper
was looked upon with some degree of contempt!
It seems strange that such a custom should ever have
arisen, and one is not a little puzzled in endeavouring