WILD HORSES—JOE SLEEPS IN WHITE WOLF'S TENT—CAMP ON THE WALNUT—WOLVES AND LYNXES—KILL AN ELK—THE CHASE—CAPTURE OF THE BLACK STALLION—WHITE WOLF'S SKILL—BREAKING THE HORSES
ThePawnees remained on Oxhide Creek later than usual this spring. As they wanted to go on a hunt for the wild horses on the Cimarron bottom, they had to wait until the grass grew enough to furnish pasture for their own ponies on the trip.
About the middle of April, White Wolf told his warriors that he would start in a few days. A runner was despatched to Errolstrath, to tell Joe the band would leave in a short time, and to be ready at a moment's notice. The runner said that when White Wolf started he wanted to be off very early in the morning, so as to make the Arkansas the first night.
Joe, all anxious for the exciting trip, persuaded his mother and sisters to bake up a lot of bread,and boil hard a couple of dozen eggs for him. He told them that that would be all he wanted, as they intended to depend upon the chase, Indian fashion, for everything else; and as the country they were going over was full of buffalo, antelope, and elk, they would not suffer from lack of food.
He cleaned his father's Spencer carbine, bought a box of cartridges for it, and told Kate that he intended to ride the roan which she got from the Indians and had given to him. He thought the animal was better than any the Pawnees had in their herd, though White Wolf had said that he could ride one of theirs.
The night of the third day after the runner had come to tell Joe to get ready, another one came to the ranche and said that White Wolf and the warriors would start in the morning. He told him that he had better come to the camp with him, and stay there that night, so that there would be no delay about getting off early in the morning. So Joe got his things ready, tied a couple of blankets to the cantle of his saddle, his lariat to the horn; slung his carbine over his shoulder, and buckled his belt of cartridgesaround his waist. He then bade good by to the family, jumped on his pony, which he had named Comanche, after the tribe which had captured Kate, and rode with the runner who had come for him, to the Pawnee camp a mile distant.
Arriving there, Joe found everything in confusion. Some of the warriors were picketing their riding animals near the tepees, allowing the loose ponies to run at large, as they will never leave the main bunch. Others were packing their wallets of par-flèche with dried meat for the journey. White Wolf was sitting in the door of his lodge, smoking his pipe and giving general directions to his warriors.
At last everything was straightened out to the satisfaction of the chief, and then all adjourned to their several tepees to make ready their arms and ropes for the work that was to be done when they reached the Cimarron.
Joe slept in the lodge of the chief that night, and before the dawn was fairly upon the world, the warriors were up, saddling their ponies, taking down their lodges, and packing their traps on the backs of the animals designated for that purpose. Then after a hastily swallowed breakfastof dried buffalo meat, at a signal from White Wolf, the party mounted, and the cavalcade rode southwest at a gentle lope, the pack animals in front, in charge of two warriors.
Joe rode alongside of White Wolf in the centre of the column, and they talked of the probability of finding the herd of wild horses on the salt marsh where they were going.
They pulled up about noon to graze their animals and to have a smoke, which is the first thing an Indian does when he halts: it is of more importance to him than eating.
The Big Bend where the Pawnees wished to cross the Arkansas was seventy-two miles from the Oxhide, near the famous Pawnee Rock, on the old Santa Fé Trail.
When the sun was about two hours high, they could see, three or four miles distant, the white contour of the sand hills which border the great silent, treeless stream, and the Indians knew that their camping-ground was near. It was to be in the timber at the mouth of the Walnut, less than two miles from the spot where they would strike the Arkansas.
Before it had grown fairly dark, the heavytimber on the Walnut was reached, and the party halted, turned their animals loose, took another smoke, and then prepared for the night.
Around the camp-fire, White Wolf and several of the oldest warriors told how that region once belonged to their tribe. Their largest village had been two hundred miles farther north, on the Republican, and many times they had come down to where they were now camped, to hunt the buffalo, or steal horses from the Cheyennes, their hereditary enemies. They told how they were once a powerful nation, but the white man had stolen their lands, and now, only a small band, they were obliged to live on a reservation set apart for them by the Government.
It was a wild region where Joe now found himself. All night long could be heard the cry of the lynx, which sounded like that of an infant. The wolves howled in the timbered recesses of the creek, but Joe slept well, rolled up in his blankets in the chief's lodge, and it was morning before he thought he had been asleep an hour.
At the first streak of dawn, the Indians wereout. White Wolf said that the mouth of the Walnut used to be a favorite place for elk. They might still haunt the stream; he would send out some of his hunters, and perhaps they would have elk for their breakfast.
He selected two of the warriors, who started out on foot to see if they could find any game. Joe, of course, accompanied them. They stalked cautiously as only an Indian can—Joe had mastered the art perfectly—along the bank of the stream, not a stick breaking under their feet, nor the sound of the rustle of a dead leaf being heard, so quietly did they tread.
At last, arriving at a bend of the creek, where the timber grows the thickest, the Indian in the lead stopped abruptly, put his hand out behind him, the sign for the others to halt, and taking Joe's carbine from the boy's shoulder, got down on his belly and crawled forward as noiselessly as a snake. Suddenly he raised the gun, and seeming to take a careless aim, pulled the trigger, and immediately Joe and the other warrior saw four elk rush past them, down the prairie, and out of sight.
As he turned to Joe and the other warrior,telling them at the same time to come on, the Indian who had fired said in his own language, "We'll have elk for breakfast now."
They followed him into the timber, and there, not thirty yards from where he had stood when he fired the carbine, was an elk, about two years old, dead as a stone wall!
The work of skinning the elk did not take more than ten minutes, and it was cut up into conveniently sized pieces, and each one of the hunters packed his portion to camp, less than a mile distant.
When they arrived they found the fire burning briskly, for White Wolf and the other warriors had heard the report of the gun, and they knew that something in the shape of game had been secured, for Mazakin and Trotter, the two Indians whom the chief had sent out, were unfailing shots. The meat was soon cut into slices, and each man cut a twig fork upon which he stuck a slice, and every one became a cook for himself. Joe produced a loaf of his bread, and with water alone for drink they made an excellent meal.
When they had finished, the sun was just rising like a great molten ball out of the horizonof the far-stretching level prairie. The ponies, standing ready, were mounted, and the party moved out, crossed the Arkansas at Pawnee Rock, and continued a southwesterly course all day.
By sundown they arrived at the Cimarron, a clear, babbling stream, where the water was a little brackish, and which the Cheyennes call Ho-to-oa-oa (Buffalo).
There were no trees at this part of the Cimarron in those days, and they were obliged to pitch their camp on the sandy bank of the river. The grass was luxurious, and their animals fairly revelled in it. They soon filled themselves and lay down, as if they realized the hard work which would be their portion for the next few days.
There were plenty of fish in the river, and as Joe had thoughtfully brought some hooks and lines, he and White Wolf with two of the other warriors took dried buffalo meat for bait, and soon caught all they wanted for their supper.
The next morning they broke camp at daybreak, and rode for a grove of timber just visible in the far-distant western horizon, where White Wolf said he believed they would find some wildhorses. They always take shelter at night in timber if any is to be found, and wander out on the prairie in the morning to graze.
The party arrived at the grove by two o'clock, and established their permanent camp, as they saw the unmistakable signs that a herd of wild horses made it their nightly rendezvous. Their lodges were put up in the southern edge of the grove, away from the trails of the animals.
The Indians kept very quiet all day, sitting in the shadow of their lodges, smoking and talking. They did not even build any fires, but contented themselves with their dried buffalo meat and the bread which Joe had brought, for fear of making the slightest disturbance, and thus preventing the wild horses from returning to their usual nightly resting-place. Every once in a while, either White Wolf himself or some of the other warriors would venture out of the timber and gaze long and anxiously over the vast prairie, in hope of seeing something of the bunch, which they knew was grazing somewhere not many miles away. Once the chief thought he saw in the distance, moving objects which he took for horses, for he was noted far beyond any othermember of his band for his keen sight. He was right in his conjectures, for before half an hour had passed from the time he had first riveted his attention, the bunch—for such it was—had swung around, broadside to, and, approaching nearer the timber, could be counted. There were over forty animals, led by a magnificent black horse which the chief said he would try to capture.
It was a beautiful sight, and Joe stood transfixed as they kicked up their heels, and raced after one another like a group of school children, little suspecting that, before the sun went down the next evening, many of them would be ridden by the Indians who were now gazing at them so covetously.
Night seemed to be very slow in coming to the band of Pawnees, who smoked and smoked incessantly, to pass the long hours before darkness would invite the herd to seek its bed-ground. At last after dark, by the light of the crescent moon, they saw the animals, led by the coal-black stallion, cautiously walk into the timber about a mile from the Pawnee camp. When the neighing and pawing had ceased, the hunters wrapped themselves in their blankets and buffalo robes,intending to be up before it was light, and surprise the herd before it was ready to go out to graze.
The ponies were securely picketed, saddles, girths, and bridles examined, buffalo-hair lariats overhauled, and all made ready for an early start on the hard day's ride.
Long before the sun had showed the faintest indication of his coming; while the stars were still shining brilliantly, the Indians and Joe were up, and hastily breakfasting, or taking their matutinal smoke. They then mounted their ponies, and stealthily walked the animals in the direction of the slumbering bunch of wild horses.
When they had arrived within a few hundred yards of the place where the handsome creatures were still unconsciously resting, one of the Indians and Joe, who was as good as the best man among them, dismounted and crawled forward in the brush to reconnoitre. They returned in a few moments and reported to White Wolf that all was quiet, not a single horse's ear had they seen pricked up, so the animals had not as yet been warned of danger.
White Wolf then gave his orders, making suchdisposition of his forces as would cause the herd to be surrounded when the warriors had approached near enough to use their lassoes. So quietly did the ponies do their duty, that when the herd was awakened to hear and see their enemies almost upon them, the lassoes of several of the warriors had done their work.
As the others bounded away with astonishing speed, out of the timber and over the prairie, a spirited chase commenced. The Pawnees urged their ponies to their greatest capacity, the manes and tails of the wild horses in front were flying wildly in the air, while their hoofs were beating the hard sod, showing how tightly strung were the muscles of the frightened animals.
The Pawnees were obviously gaining upon the fugitives, quick-footed though they were. The chief came up with the leader, the splendid black stallion, and began to swing his lasso around his head, gradually enlarging the circles by permitting the rough buffalo-rope to slip gently through his fingers. A sudden movement at the same instant plunged the stallion into an increased speed, when, White Wolf thumping the flanks of his mettlesome pony, it dashed quickly forward,and the Pawnee threw his lariat with unerring skill around the neck of the black horse. The bunch was thrown into a panic, when the members of it saw their leader tumble to the ground, and wheeling round in their course, they were completely surrounded by their pursuers. At least ten were lassoed by the same number of Pawnees, including Joe, who had long ago become an expert with the rope. The remainder of the bunch not yet caught were kept together by the rest of the Indians, who were continually circling around them, so that not one escaped, and at the end of an hour the whole forty were lassoed, and tied fast by the legs. Some fifteen of them were not desirable animals, and these were turned loose again.
The business of breaking them in began when they had driven the remaining twenty-five to their camp down on the farther edge of the grove. The frightened animals, notwithstanding their fetters of rawhide, kicked up the earth, shook their heavy manes, curved their necks, and, with eyes that seemed all afire, gazed tremblingly at their captors.
As White Wolf wanted the black stallion forhis own riding, he began with him. It took four of the stoutest Pawnees to hold the fiery creature by a long lasso; this had the effect of partial strangulation, which weakened and temporarily overcame the wonderful power of the spirited creature. Violent were his plunges as he tried to free himself from the grasp of his captors. His terrific leaps only served to draw the lariat tighter around his neck; his breathing became more and more difficult, and might have been heard for the eighth of a mile. His heart beat as if it would burst from his heaving chest, and his veins stood out in great ridges along his quivering flesh.
At last, overwhelmed by his agony and fear, powerless with suffocation, he fell, and for an instant lay upon the ground without sense or motion. The lariat was immediately loosened around his neck, and as consciousness returned to him, his already glazed eyes became bright again, the fresh air dilated his nostrils, and his tremendous chest rose and fell.
In ten minutes he was on his feet, but how different he appeared from the magnificent animal which had stood in all his native pride anddignity at the head of his band. He was weak, hardly able to stand, his great head drooped, and his eyes were without that natural brilliancy which had so markedly characterized them; he appeared only the ghost of his former self. Like a monarch who had been dragged from his throne, who has been scoffed at by those whom he had previously despised, he was destined to become the slave of man.
As soon as the horse somewhat recovered from his exhaustion, he was mounted by White Wolf, who kept his seat, notwithstanding the animal's terrific efforts to throw him, and forced him to run round and round in a circle. If for a moment the horse showed the slightest manifestation of flagging or obstinacy, White Wolf would give him an awful blow over the head with his heavy buffalo-hair rope. Gradually he became more passive, and in less than half an hour from the time when the chief had mounted him, he was declared broken, and was led away to be picketed with the rest of the Indian ponies.
The remaining twenty-four horses were all subjected to the same course of discipline; some giving up in a few moments, others as obstinateas was their leader. Before dark all had been sufficiently subdued to suit a savage's idea of gentleness, and the party went to bed that night elated over their wonderful success.
The next morning they started for home, camping at the same place on the Walnut. From there to the Oxhide, they made two night halts instead of one, as on their outward trip.
Joe's share of the capture was three beautiful ponies. Under the discipline of the kindness which always prevailed at Errolstrath, these were made in a few weeks almost as gentle as tame horses.
THE LAST HERD OF BUFFALO—THE STAMPEDE—THE SOLDIERS IN FULL CHASE—JOE GETS TWO COWS—HAULING IN THE MEAT—RATTLESNAKES
Thelast big herd of buffalo ever seen in the valley of the Oxhide visited their ancient feeding-grounds during that same spring of 1869, when Joe hunted wild horses on the Cimarron with the Pawnees. One morning, shortly after his return to Errolstrath, an immense number of the shaggy ruminants came tearing across the Smoky Hill, below the fort. They rushed up toward the soldiers' barracks, and dashed wildly through the post, over the parade-ground, and on toward the Oxhide.
In a moment the whole garrison was in full chase, enlisted men and officers, and a fusillade ensued, which sounded at a distance like a general engagement of troops. The firing was heard on the Oxhide, and several of the Pawnees who happened to be out on the highest bluffs saw theherd coming. One of their number hurried to their camp and notified the other warriors, who immediately mounted their ponies and got ready for the chase. Joe and Rob were hunting rabbits with their hounds that morning on an elevated plateau, and they, too, saw the cloud of dust raised by the great herd, as it came thundering through the Smoky Hill bottom. Forgetting all about rabbits and everything else, they rushed to the house for their guns. In a few moments they joined the Indians, who were coming at a breakneck gait toward the on-rushing mass. The buffalo, wild with fear and excitement at their proximity to the cabins of the settlers, were on a general stampede.
When buffalo are stampeded, they become absolutely blind, and rush without any aim into anything that is in their path. Some of the frightened beasts that now had reached Errolstrath ranche, dashed through the front yard, leaping over fences and gates as easily as a greyhound. In their mad career they knocked down the milk-pans, water-buckets, and other things that stood near the kitchen door.
Kate was standing on the wash-bench, tryingto get a good look at the buffalo as they came tearing along, and before she was aware of the fact, she found herself sprawling on the ground. An old bull that was separated from the rest of the herd had come dashing round the corner of the house, and striking the end of the bench with his leg, sent Kate headlong. She picked herself up unhurt, and rushed into the house, almost as badly scared as when the Cheyennes had swooped down on her.
She gathered her wits in a moment, and with her mother and sister stood on the back veranda, where they could all see the herd now far up on the hills, and still running in their madness. The Indians, soldiers, and officers were shooting at the frenzied beasts as they ran among them, regardless of consequences. Now and then they toppled one of the huge animals over, but the white men in their excitement missed oftener than they hit, while the Pawnees rarely failed to bring down their game.
The party on the porch at Errolstrath watched the herd and hunters until nothing but a cloud of dust could be seen far in the distance, yet the yelling of the Pawnees could still be faintlyheard long after the buffalo had vanished from sight.
By noon, Indians and whites slowly retraced their course down to the creek bottom, the Pawnees going to their camp, the soldiers to the fort, and the boys, Joe and Rob, home.
"How many of the buffalo were killed after all that terrible yelling and shooting?" asked their mother.
"Well, not nearly as many as ought to have been," answered Joe. "I never saw such a mixed-up mess in all my life. Enough cartridges were used to have killed five hundred, but the men from the fort were as excited as the buffalo, and they didn't hit an animal once in a hundred shots, and then when they did, half the time the ball struck them where it had no more effect than if you had hit them with a stick!
"The Pawnees killed more than all the others; they got twenty-five, and have gone to camp for ponies to pack the meat on. I don't think that fifty buffaloes were killed in all. I got two, both of 'em cows, and I must take the wagon out and haul 'em in. We will have enough meat to last us a long while, but we shall have to smoke most of it."
"Where did the herd go?" inquired Kate.
"Most of the animals kept right on toward the east, while some of them turned round and travelled south. I suspect that the settlers on Plum Creek flats will have a good time with them, as a part of the herd that went south was headed for there. I tell you," continued Joe, "you've got to keep a clear head on your shoulders when you go after buffalo. Most of those fellows from Fort Harker are recruits, and are fresh from the East; they never saw a buffalo before, and I don't wonder they were excited."
"I never saw so many rattlesnakes," said Rob, "as I did on that big stony prairie where we killed the majority of the buffalo. I guess I counted fifty if I did one. I think that the stamping of the buffalo must have frightened them out of their holes."
"It's very lucky that the rattlesnakes out here are not so venomous as those back East," said Mrs. Thompson; "more than twenty persons have been bitten by them in the neighborhood since we've lived here, and a little whiskey soon cures it."
"Do you remember, Gert," said Kate, "when you nearly sat down on one that was curled upon that stump you were going to take for a seat in the woods last autumn, and he rattled just in time?"
"I guess I do," answered her sister. "There's one thing I like about a rattlesnake: he always gives you good warning that he is around. He doesn't ever take you unawares, like some animals, a bull dog for instance, that says nothing, and takes hold of you before you know it."
"Their skins make pretty belts and hatbands," said Rob. "The cowboys on the big cattle ranches kill hundreds of them while they are out herding, and tan the skins to put around their hats. I saw a whole set of jewelry that was made out of the rattles and mounted with gold wire. One of the boys was going to send it to Texas to his sister."
"Well, they may be odd," said Mrs. Thompson, "but I certainly shouldn't like to wear them."
"I like the furs of animals better than anything for ornament, either to wear or to have in my room," said Kate. "I guess it would make a city girl envious to see my chamber with all its beautiful skins that Joe and Rob have given me. One of these days I mean to havepapa send some of those otter and beaver skins to Kansas City, and get them made up into a cape and muff."
"He will," said her mother. "I was telling your father only the other day when we were up in your room, that it was a pity so many magnificent skins should be tacked around the walls, and lying on the floor, just for ornament, when there are enough there to make us all a set of winter furs. He said he would send them off in a few days, so I think you will have your wish gratified before long."
The boys were sent with the wagon to bring back the meat of the two cows that Joe had killed, and about noon they returned. The robes were very fine ones. Joe asked the Pawnees to tan them for him, and when they were finished, which would be in about a week, he intended to make them a present to his father and mother for their bedroom.
The buffalo meat was cut up that evening, by Mr. Thompson, and on the next day was smoked with corn-cobs, which are always used for that purpose out West.
While getting the meat ready, Mr. Thompsontold the boys that he wouldn't be at all surprised if, when they wanted buffalo again, they would have to go miles away for them, as the country was becoming so thickly settled that the herds might never come as far east as the Oxhide. "Of course," continued he, "the antelope will remain with us a long time yet, but even they will become scarcer each year, and then they, too, will disappear, for it seems that the great ruminants of the plains cannot live with the white man as they can with the savages. The latter have no permanent home, but congregate in temporary villages in the winter, and as soon as spring opens, they are off again, living on horseback and depending upon the chase for their existence. It has ever been so with the Indian since the landing of the Pilgrims, in 1620. The white man has dogged their footsteps as they themselves follow the deer. One of the facetious old bishops of New England, I forgot his name now, said: 'The Puritans, when they landed on Plymouth Rock, first fell upontheir knees, and then upon theaboriginees!' It appears to be the fate of the red men to vanish before the onward march of the whites."
"I feel sorry for the Indians, father," said Joe. "I tell you it would have made you almost weep to hear White Wolf, that night we camped on the Walnut, relate in his sorrowful manner how powerful his tribe once was, before the white man took their lands away from them."
"I have a warm spot in my heart for the Indian," said Mr. Thompson, "but it is their fate, I suppose, and cannot be helped. You cannot civilize the old ones, and the only hope is in taking the rising generation away from their tribal affiliations when young, and teaching them to live like the whites."
THE INDIAN HORSE-RACE—KATE'S PONY WINS—THE TRADE WITH THE PAWNEES—THE DANCES AT NIGHT—THE INDIANS SAY GOOD BY TO THE FAMILY—NOBLE ACTION OF WHITE WOLF
ThePawnees having remained on the Oxhide much longer than in any previous season, they began to make preparations for departure. Joe asked the chief to give a dance with his warriors at the ranche, for his parents and his sisters to see how the Indians enjoy themselves.
White Wolf said he would be sure to do so the night before they left. To-morrow, they were going to have a horse-race, and, should his father be willing, they would use that long, level stretch of prairie between the house and the creek. It was a distance of about four miles, the usual length of a race-course with the Indians.
White Wolf said that the wagers would be ten horses, and that if Young Panther wanted to bet, he would make one with him. Joe replied that neither he nor his father approved of betting, butthat both of them dearly loved to see horses run. "If I believed in betting, though," said Joe to the chief, "I would bet that my sister's pony, Ginger, can outrun any pony you have." The chief smiled, and told Joe that if he would not bet, he might ride that pony in the race, and if he came out ahead, then he would know whether his sister's animal was the fastest. Joe agreed to it, and when he returned to Errolstrath he obtained Kate's permission to ride Ginger in the race the following day. Mr. Thompson had readily given his consent to the Indians to use the trail in front of the house as a race-course.
Joe went down to the camp that evening and told the warriors that they might have the use of the course. White Wolf then said: "We will be up there by the time the sun is so high," pointing with his hand to where the sun would be at eight o'clock.
"All right," replied Joe; "we will be ready for you. The folks can sit on the porch and see the whole length of the course. Be sure to come promptly."
When Joe returned to the ranche, he announced that he wanted to get up very early inthe morning, and as Rob was always the first one in the house out of bed, he asked him to call him the moment he awoke.
Rob, as usual, was out before sunrise. He promptly called his brother, who lost no time in dressing, washing at the spring, and going out to the pasture to catch Ginger. He led him to the corral, gave him a most vigorous currying, after which he fed the pony an extra ration of oats, to give him heart for the race.
Shortly after breakfast was out of the way, Kate, who was on the veranda, feeding the mocking-birds, came rushing into the sitting-room, crying, "The Pawnees are coming; I can hear their tom-toms beating; they will soon be here!"
All the family went out, and sure enough, there were the Indians all dressed up in feathers, and painted in every imaginable savage manner. White Wolf had a row of white dots on one cheek, flanked on each side by a streak of vermilion, while the other was green and blue. He had on a war bonnet with eagle feathers sticking in it around the upper edge, making it look like a grotesque crown. Down his back dragged a long trail of buffalo hair plaited into his own,and at every few inches for its whole length (it reached the ground when he walked) there were fastened bright metal disks nearly as big as the top of a tomato can. Around his wrists were a dozen or more brass rings, and on his bare ankles he wore as many rings of the same material. He had an embroidered buffalo robe thrown gracefully over his shoulders, half concealing his coat of beaded buckskin. His leggings were of the same stuff, and were also gayly decorated with colored porcupine quills deftly woven in them. The other warriors were similarly dressed and painted, but wore only one eagle feather in their bonnets, which was the distinguishing feature between them and their chief.
Following the warriors were the boys of the band, each riding a pony, and leading others which had been wagered on the race.
The race animals were ridden by their owners, and came after all the others; among them was the wild coal-black stallion that White Wolf had captured on the Cimarron. He looked like himself now, as he proudly pranced along, his mouth frothing as he champed on his rawhide bit, andhis neck arched as he stepped like a thoroughbred over buffalo-grass turf leading to the house.
Several of the warriors had tom-toms in front of them, which they were beating vigorously with a stick as they rode proudly along. The tom-toms, or drums, are made of tanned buffalo hide stretched over a willow hoop, and the sound resembles that of a drum, but as the pounding is simply a continuous series of strokes without any variation, it is not music, but a very monotonous noise.
When the band had arrived at the house the Indians dismounted, and after a series of "Hows?"—their customary salutation—to the family on the veranda, they dismounted and began to converse among themselves in an excited manner. Presently one of the warriors started on a run toward the creek. He soon returned with some sticks, and then he and another warrior began to mark out the course.
This took them some time, and while they were at the work, the boys who were to ride the race began to cinch up their buffalo-hide saddles, and prepare themselves for the impending struggle.
Joe was already prancing about on Ginger, and he could hardly hold the spirited little beast, so anxious was it to be off, as if it perfectly understood the meaning of all the preparations. The Indian ponies, too, seemed to enter into the spirit of the thing, for they also commenced to cavort around, and it was with much difficulty that their riders could restrain them from bolting down the track.
At last everything was in readiness, the animals in place, Joe on the outside of the four who were to run. The animals were all jumping up and down, stiff-legged, and bucking with all their strength to throw their riders.
In a few moments White Wolf gave the signal, and away they darted like meteors. Ginger kept his place well, the black stallion leading for the first half-mile until a big roan of one of the warriors took the lead; then Ginger made a dash ahead. For a moment it was nip and tuck which would keep the lead, but when the second mile was half run, the animals began to show their powers of endurance. Some flagged, others were far behind, and Ginger and the roan were going relatively slower;when all at once, just as the home stretch was reached, Ginger took a spurt and seeming to gain his second wind, like a pugilist in the ring, came in forty feet in advance of the roan, the black stallion twenty feet behind him. The other ponies were so far away, that if they had been running on a white man's course they would have been declared "distanced."
Such a shout went up from the veranda of the house, where the family were sitting, as they saw Ginger dash ahead, and Joe caught the sound of it as the wind wafted the pæan of victory to his ears.
White Wolf was disappointed in the result. He thought that his black horse had great powers of endurance, and as soon as they were assembled in front of the veranda, he offered Kate five of the best and youngest of his horses in exchange for Ginger. Kate hesitated for a moment, but considering that Ginger was now nearly eight years old, and after consulting with her father and Joe, she decided to make the swap.
As the chief owned the roan that had really won the race,—Ginger being a mere outsiderjust to test Joe's belief that he was the fastest animal,—White Wolf was, in fact, the winner, and took the ten ponies that were wagered.
With the assistance of her father and brothers, Kate selected five of the best and youngest of the chief's bunch, including the roan. The Indians then returned to their camp, promising to come up that evening and give a series of dances, as they intended to start for their reservation the next morning.
After they had left the front of the house, and Joe had taken the five new ponies to the corral, he told Kate that he would now let her have Cheyenne back, and he would take the roan, as the latter was too large a horse for her to ride. Kate agreed readily to the proposition, so she once more owned the little animal that had brought her so safely from the Indian village.
When the family had finished their supper, Joe and Rob, with a team of work horses, dragged several large logs from the creek to the front of the house to make a big bonfire, for the Pawnee dance.
Shortly after dark the redskins came up with their best toggery on, and when Joe, whohad donned his Indian suit for the occasion, told White Wolf he was ready, the Indians commenced to circle around the great fire of logs, in their savage fashion. Some of them jumped stiff-legged like an antelope when he is first startled. Others, bending nearly double, shuffled in pairs, each one on his own hook, trying to see which could make the most ridiculous postures, for they have no regular figures, but keep admirable time to the drumming on the tom-toms.
When the first dance was finished, they gave a representation of the scalp dance. The chief crept along the ground, putting his ear close to it, in the attitude of listening on the trail of the enemy, then waving his hand for his warriors to come on, they rushed into a supposed Indian camp, and went through the simulation of killing their victim, and wrenching off his hair with their knives. The motions, which at times were really graceful, were carried on in perfect unison with the monotonous pounding of the drums.
The next dance was named "Make the buffalo come." The medicine-men, who claim to possess mysterious powers, tell the warriors to dance, forthat will make the buffalo come, and then they can get their meat. The crafty old fellows are sure never to order the dance until about the season that the animals come to that part of the country where the tribe may happen to be. They are kept dancing night after night until the buffalo really make their appearance, then the medicine-men claim that they brought them by their incantations and the wonderful power of their medicine.
For this dance, White Wolf's warriors and himself covered their heads with the skin of a buffalo's head, horns and all, so that they looked like a lot of men with the heads of that animal as part of their anatomy. It was a long dance, and during its performance, the most indescribable antics were gone through.
The family were well pleased with the entertainment, and when it was over, Mrs. Thompson invited the Indians into the sitting-room, where the girls had prepared a little supper for them, consisting of cake and lemonade. The latter was new, and created quite a sensation, but Joe told them it was not fire-water, and they might drink a barrel full without becoming crazy.
At midnight when the dances and the supper were over, the Pawnees rode back to their camp, delighted with their evening's entertainment.
The next morning Joe was down at the Indian camp very early to see his dusky friends make ready for their departure. The chief told him that they had camped on the Oxhide for the last time; the whites had taken up all the country, and the buffalo would come there no more. Now when they needed buffalo meat, they would be obliged to go out as far as the Walnut, and in a few more years there would be no buffalo at all. His people would have to take the "white man's road" if they expected to live. He and the other warriors made their youthful friend some presents, and told him that they had to go by the house to take the trail down the Smoky Hill Fork to their distant home. He said that they would stop a moment at the ranche to say good by to all the people who had been so kind to him and the tribe every year since they had camped on the creek.
Joe returned to Errolstrath, feeling very sad, because he had become much attached to the Indians, and he knew that he would miss themso much, and feel lonely for a long time. He told the family that the Pawnees would come soon to say farewell, and that they must be sure to be out on the veranda when they came.
By nine o'clock, Kate, whose ears were well trained to faint sounds, through her vigilance when a captive in the Cheyenne camp, came into the house from the porch where she had been attending to her birds as usual, and said the Pawnees were coming; she could hear the tread of their ponies' hoofs.
Then the family took their places on the veranda, as they had promised Joe. Presently, slowly coming up the trail, with White Wolf in the lead, the band of Pawnees were seen approaching the house. Arrived in front, they all halted, and with their usual "How? How?" saluted the family.
All came down from the porch to shake hands, when Ginger, who with the other ponies was running loose in the bunch, came up to Kate and, neighing affectionately, began to rub his nose against her arm and shoulder. The salutation of her once favorite pony was too much for the warm-hearted girl, and she burst into tears asshe returned the animal's love for her by throwing her arms around his neck.
"Oh, father!" said she, "why did I ever consent to part with Ginger? I am so sorry now. I would give worlds to have him back again."
White Wolf, noticing her weeping, asked in his own language why the little squaw was feeling so badly. Joe told him how she loved Ginger and how sorry she was she had ever consented to give him up.
White Wolf then said: "Tell her she shall have her pony again. I am a chief and do not like to see the white squaws cry." He dismounted from his animal, and going up to Kate, took Ginger's foretop in his hand; then taking hers, he pressed into it the bunch of hair.
Ginger neighed when the rude ceremony of returning him to his former mistress was over, seeming to understand just what had been effected.
Kate took the chief by the hand and thanked him as earnestly as she could find language to express herself, which, of course, had to be interpreted by Joe.
Then Rob brought from the stable the fiveother ponies that had been given for Ginger, and after a few more parting salutations the Pawnees rode down the trail.
Ginger was restored to his stall in the stable, and Kate was the happiest girl in the settlement that day.
CONCLUSION
RETROSPECTIVE—THE OLD TRAPPER PASSES AWAY—MR. AND MRS. THOMPSON ARE DEAD—GENERAL CUSTER AND COLONEL KEOGH ARE KILLED—ERROLSTRATH BELONGS TO JOE AND ROB
Twenty-nineyears have elapsed since the events related in this story. The Indians, buffalo, and antelope have all disappeared. There is no longer any frontier. Granite monuments mark the dividing line between great states. The children of this generation will never know by experience the hardships, the perils, and the amusements which so conspicuously characterized the life of Joe, Rob, Gertrude, and Kate at Errolstrath.
General Custer, Colonel Keogh, and nearly all of the famous cavalry regiment commanded by the great Indian fighter went down to their death in the awful massacre at the battle of theLittle Bighorn, or Rosebud, as it is sometimes called.
The old trapper, Mr. Tucker, who was such a warm friend of the family, has long since passed away. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are buried in the quiet cemetery on the hill, near the ranche. Kate and her sister have been married for many years and still live in Kansas, but not at the dear old home. Errolstrath belongs to Joe and Rob. It is now a large ranche, comprising many thousand acres. Where the buffalo and the antelope used to roam in such vast herds are to be seen, peacefully grazing, hundreds of mild-eyed Jerseys and the broad-backed Durhams. A new house with all modern improvements has been erected on the site of the old one. On its broad veranda may be seen every evening in summer the children of the two brothers, to whom, as the shadows lengthen, they tell of their own early experiences when they too were children and when the ranche was far out in the wilderness of the great central plains.
The shrill whistle of the locomotive may be heard at the ranche as the palace trains with their load of living freight dash along the bank of theSmoky Hill, toward the Rocky Mountains. Ellsworth has grown to be a beautiful town with electric lights and all the appliances of our wonderful nineteenth century civilization.
The moon shines as brightly and the birds sing as sweetly as of yore around Errolstrath, but of all the familiar faces that knew it so many years ago, only those of Joe and Rob may be seen. Even they are bearded, their hair is slightly mixed with gray. They are growing old; but the laughter of their merry children serves to keep green the memory of their own happy childhood.