Chapter I: The Indian Country (4)

This lasted for a day; after which, a perfect calm reigned throughout the camp. There was no excitement; for the guard had monopolised it. There was no squabbling, or howling; for the women were driven off, and the dogs knew better than to venture a second time within the reach of a cudgel, whose favours were bestowed with such an unsparing liberality.

The office now became a sinecure. The guard sat for hours upon the head of an empty pork barrel, drumming his heels against its sides, and trolling out some Indian ditty, or occasionally bellowing out a threat at some urchin who ventured to steal a distant look at the forbidden premises. When this became tedious, he stretched himself at full length on the grass, and resumed his old occupation of singing. An hour spent at this exhausted his patience. He then rose up, threw his blanket across one of his shoulders, and swaggered off to the village to hear the news, and to take a chat with the old folks, who treated him with the greatest deference, now that he was in office. After paying one of these visits, he always returned to his post, and regaled us, as well as he was able, with the news of the day. By degrees, his jurisdiction seemed to increase, until at last from the charge of our goods and chattels, it reached to the charge of ourselves; and none of the party could leave the tent without receiving a very inquiring look, as to what might be the nature of the business which called him forth. All these things tended vastly to raise him in the estimation of the village; though I verily believe that, at the bottom, he was one of the most arrant vagabonds breathing; and that the chief, acting upon the principle usually followed by politicians of the present day, had promoted him to office, because it was necessary that something should be done for him, and because there was no other way of doing it.

Great as had been his display of diligence for the first day, it soon disappeared; and at the end of three days, there was little difference in the appearance of the camp, from that which it wore previous to his appointment. According to his notions, he had performed all that was necessary to entitle him to his pay, and any further labour he considered as altogether superfluous. Before a week had elapsed, he was nearly as great an annoyance as any of the idlers, whom it was his business to remove.

CHAP. XXVI.

THE OTOE COUNCIL.

A day had been appointed for holding a council with the nation, for the purpose of forming a treaty, with respect to the lands lying in the neighbourhood of the Nemahaw river. The hour determined upon was three o’clock; and at that time, we proceeded from the tent to the town, with a string of children at our heels.

We found nearly the whole tribe assembled, and seated in circles, in the large lodge of the Iotan chief. At the far end of the building, was the Iotan; and by his side, were stationed those two worthies—the Big Kaw, and the Thief. Next them, were the stern forms of the older warriors and braves. There was something solemn in the unyielding features of these war-worn veterans. They sat as motionless as stone—moving not a single muscle of their dusky countenances. They had thrown aside their usual careless deportment, and all were prepared to listen, with intense interest, to the terms of the treaty. This was observable, not only in the principal braves, but throughout the whole assembly. Even the veriest scapegrace assumed an air of dignity befitting the occasion.

The lodge was excessively crowded. One ring was formed beyond another; one dark head rose behind another; until the dim, dusk outlines of the more distant were lost in shadow, and their glistening eyes alone could be seen. The passage which led to the air was completely crowded with women and children; and half a dozen curious faces were peering down through the round hole in the roof.

The most of them had adorned themselves for the occasion. Plumes were floating from their scalp locks; their heads and breasts were painted with vermilion, and long strings of wampum hung from their necks and mutilated ears. But at the present moment there seemed to be no thought of their appearance. Every sense was wrapped up in an intense interest in the approaching council; every breath was held; and every eye fixed with eagerness upon the face of the Commissioner, as he arose to address the meeting.

He stated simply and clearly the terms of the treaty. There was not a sound to interrupt his voice; not a limb stirred—not a muscle. Their chests seemed scarcely to move, so suppressed was their breathing: they were like statues: and their steady stare into the face of the speaker; and the eagerness with which every eye turned to the interpreter, as he translated each sentence; showed their deep interest in the scene. At length the speaker concluded; and a loud groan, or grunt of approbation, followed from the throats of the whole meeting.

The old chief remained in grave deliberation for a few moments; then lighting his pipe, he drew a few puffs, and passed it to his neighbour, until it had completed the round of the whole assembly. He then rose, and addressed the council. He spoke but a short time. The speech was intended as an answer to that of the Commissioner, though it was addressed principally to his warriors. He spoke warmly of the liberality of the whites. He threw out hints as to the contents of the heavy waggons which they had brought with them; and that the less difficulty they made in agreeing to the terms of the treaty, the greater would be their share of the presents. He then dilated upon the advantage to be derived from a friendly intercourse with the whites; and wound up his whole address, with a most pathetic lamentation about the distance between their village and the buffalo hunting grounds. What this last portion of his speech had to do with the rest of the address, I could not well make out; but it appeared to be received with keen satisfaction by his audience; and when he resumed his seat he was greeted with a grunt of applause, which would have done credit to a sty of full-grown porkers.

After him, one of the warriors rose up to address the meeting. He was a lean, sinewy old man; his hair, which was unshaven, was now beginning to whiten with the frost of years, and hung in long tangled locks upon his shoulders. He rose slowly until he had attained his full height; then gathering his robe closely round his waist, he commenced his harangue. At first he spoke in a low, tremulous tone; his gestures were feeble but impressive; but at length he grew warmed with his subject, and his voice rose from its weak tones, until it sounded through the building with a startling clearness. His withered face lighted up; and his filmy eye seemed to kindle with a new lustre, as he proceeded. The whole dusky crowd listened in silence to his words; but they did not last long. The eloquent spirit, which for a few moments illumined him, passed away. Like the last, leaping flash of a dying flame, it was transient, and expired. For a moment the old warrior seemed endeavouring to recall his train of thought, but without success. Then with a melancholy shake of the head, he drew his blanket over him, and sank into his seat.

None rose after him. The pipe was again passed round; and the terms of the treaty having been assented to, by the chiefs and principal warriors, the crowd poured from the lodge, and scattered through the town.

CHAP. XXVII.

DISTRIBUTION OF PRESENTS.

On the day following the council, the packages containing the presents for the tribe were given to the chief, who prepared to divide them among the different members of his village. A large circle, composed of every man, woman, and child, had collected in the prairie. In the centre of this sat the chiefs, and five or six of the principal warriors. The packages were opened, and they commenced separating the different parcels for the purpose of distribution.

There was a great anxiety evinced by the crowd. Every eye was strained with an expression of strong hankering towards the distributors, who quietly proceeded in the business of opening bundles of knives, boxes of kettles, tin cups, packages of beads, cloths, ribands, and other articles, without paying the slightest attention to the imploring, anxious looks of the restless bystanders. When this had been completed, the chief commenced cutting up the pieces of cloth, calico, and ribands, and sending off the warriors to distribute them.

Until this moment there had been silence; but now arose a deafening clamour. The young squaws begged; the old crones scolded, screamed, and poured out torrents of abuse. The boys whooped, and the pappooses bawled. Never was there such a scene of confusion. When a warrior approached the edge of the circle, a dozen hands were reached out to seize upon the article which he held. But those who had been appointed, had been carefully selected for their coolness. For, amid all the scrambling, they maintained the most philosophic calmness, and listened to the invectives of those who were disappointed, with the most composed indifference. The distribution was managed with great impartiality; though we observed that a low word or an imploring look from some of the young girls had their weight; and more than once changed the destination of a gaudy riband, or string of richly coloured beads. A loud outcry was always raised by the neighbours on each of these occasions; and a few hard epithets were bestowed by the old viragoes, who thought they had lost by this change of intention.

During the distribution, our attention was attracted by the manœuvres of one of the many antiquated squaws who crowded in the ring. She was a diminutive little being, clothed in a dirty flannel jacket, and a tattered piece of dress resembling a petticoat. As for her years, they must have been countless. There must have been a strong flavour of bitterness about her tongue; for we observed that all the warriors seemed to shrink from collision with her. Although they evidently neglected her, still their neglect was of a more deferential nature than that exhibited toward the rest; and whenever they passed her, it was with a shuffling, apologetic air. There was no more active being in the assembly. She flew round in every direction; at one moment she was at one part of the circle, and at another moment she was in the opposite. She scolded, screamed, and begged. She writhed, with an eel-like slipperiness, through the crowd. Whenever one of the distributors passed across the circle to present some peculiarly tempting article, a terrible hustling and jostling would be observed at the point to which he appeared to direct his steps; and before he could reach it, the convulsed face and straining eyes of the little squaw would force a passage through the mass; and her shrill voice would be heard above the general clamour. She never obtained the prize; but the donor, after disappointing her, always moved off, with a hurried step; until he had placed as much space as possible between himself and her vigorous tongue. As the distribution proceeded, finding herself no better off than before it had commenced, she grew furious, and the clamour of her tongue was incessant. At last one of the distributors, an old dried up Indian, with one eye, marched up to her, and either from compassion, or for the purpose of hushing her abuse, reached out a small piece of red riband towards her. She snatched it eagerly; but after looking at it for a few seconds with an air of deep chagrin, her face began to swell like a roasting pippin; and shaking the little fragment of a riband towards him, with an air of the greatest contempt, she opened a torrent of apparently bitter invective. This raised a loud shout of laughter, at the expense of the old man. He, however, did not wait to hear it, but walked off with a cool step, until he had got beyond the reach of her fire. At length another present was given her, but without effect. Her tongue was as inveterate as ever; and to get rid of her, she was finally presented with a large tin kettle, with which she marched off to the village, to the great relief of the whole assemblage. After her departure, the business went on with a degree of good humour, which had not previously existed.

During the distribution, we observed that those of the females who were troubled with large families of children, were particularly well provided for. They were presented with those articles most suited to their domestic economy. To the young squaws, were given only trinkets and ribands, which were of small value in themselves, but possessed the strongest attractions for them. The knives and guns were bestowed upon those of the young men who were most distinguished. The chiefs however were particular to lay aside one or two of the best of each article for their own private use.

In turning over the piles of blankets, a few small ones had been discovered. These were given to several of the wild-looking little fellows who were peering in through the ring. For a moment they seemed to doubt the reality of the gift; they appeared bewildered; then forcing a passage through the crowd, they raised a loud whoop, and started off for the town at full speed; occasionally looking back, as if they feared a change might have taken place in the intention of those who presented them, and that some one might be in pursuit to take away the prize.

After about an hour’s chattering, laughing, and scolding, the ceremony was finished, and the crowd dispersed—some with sour and sullen looks, some with an air of indifference—while the smiling, pleased countenances of others denoted they at least were fully satisfied with the portion allotted to them.

Most of the discontent was evinced by the old folks of both sexes. The men restrained themselves, and walked off with lowering brows. The women however gave full exercise to their tongues, and continued it, until the sound of their sharp, shrill voices was lost in the distance, as they travelled in Indian file towards the town. Notwithstanding the show of discontent, there were but few who had not obtained some trifle in the general distribution.

Shortly after this, we observed a troop of Indians coming from the village. They were fantastically dressed in buffalo skins, so as to bear a strong resemblance to that beast. They retained the head, beard, and legs of the animal entire; and were so well disguised, that several of them, at a little distance, might have been mistaken for the brute itself. They had prepared themselves to give us the buffalo dance. They drew up in a large circle, at a little distance from a skin tent, which had been lent to us by them, our own marquee having become much tattered in a heavy gale a few nights previous. The leader of this band was the Big Kaw, who frisked behind the grave head and beard of an enormous buffalo bull. In the centre of the circle were seated a number of buffaloes, whose business it was to sing, while the rest, consisting of chiefs, squaws, and pappooses, or, in other words, of bulls, cows, and calves, danced to their music. The chorus commenced with a low, mournful ditty, which set the whole herd of dancers in motion. They began moving slowly round the singers; but as the chant grew more and more animated, the vivacity of the herd increased. From a walk they quickened their pace to a trot; from a trot, it ambled off into a full gallop. Now the spirit of the beast began to show out. The cows bellowed; the bulls frisked, roared, and fought; they kicked up, they tore up the ground, and chased each other round the circle. This lasted some time, until they grew uproarious, and the butting of horns was furious. At this sight the cows drew off; and several calves, after bursting out into a loud bawl, raised up from all fours, and mounting upon their two hind feet, started for the village—too much frightened to take any further share in the day’s diversions. The dance lasted for about two hours, after which, the Big Kaw, under the form of a seven year old bull, came and seated himself upon a billet of wood, at our sides. He appeared perfectly satisfied with his performance, but was grievously out of wind.

After this followed several other dances of a similar character. They received their appellations from different animals; and the merit of a dance consisted in imitating, as nearly as possible, the actions of the beast from which it received its name. They continued until late in the afternoon, when the Indians, one after another, departed to their homes; and long before nine o’clock, the busy hum was entirely stilled, and a deep silence hung over our tent, and the surrounding prairie.

CHAP. XXVIII.

DEPARTURE OF OTOES FOR THE HUNTING GROUNDS.

Several days had elapsed, and the growing coldness of the weather warned us that it was time for the expedition to be on its move towards the Pawnee villages.

The Otoes had consumed their supply of provisions, and were preparing to desert their town and start for the hunting grounds. The Iotan offered to accompany us, with about twenty of his principal warriors, that he might exert his influence with the Pawnees, to prevent any hostility towards us. Although chief of a different and but a small tribe, still his influence with these wild hordes was equal to that of any of their own leaders. His desperate courage had rendered him popular with the chiefs, and older warriors; and his sociable manners, though tinged with a dash of grimness, had rendered him a favourite with the less distinguished of the nation. In addition to this, the character of the Otoe tribe for furious courage, and pre-eminent skill with the rifle, gave great consequence to their chieftain.

It was for this reason that the proposition of the Iotan was gladly acceded to. And our preparations for departure were forthwith commenced.

In the meantime, a change took place in the village. Every family was busily engaged in making ready for its departure, to the distant haunts of the buffalo. Large droves of horses poured in from every direction. The town rang with noises of all descriptions. Squaws were scolding; children were squalling; pappooses, too young to shift for themselves, like so many little mummies, were suspended in baskets round the inside of the lodges, where they would be out of harm’s way, while their mothers were engaged in packing up. The dogs had probably learned, from disagreeable experience, that this was one of the ill-humoured seasons of the tribe. Many of them had withdrawn to a short distance in the prairie, where they sat, demurely waiting till the bustle should be finished, and good humour restored to the town. The warriors laid aside their usual indolence, and assisted their wives in loading the horses. The only idlers in the town were children and old men. The first stood in droves, looking on, equally aware with the dogs, of the souring effect of all this bustle upon the tempers of the grown-up portion of the community; and equally cautious in avoiding all contact with them. The last strolled up and down; kicking every stray cur they chanced to meet, and bellowing out advice to all who chose to listen.

Here and there, a long train, who had finished their labours, were slowly wending their way, over the western hills, towards the wished-for hunting grounds. A long suite of dogs lounged after them, and disappeared, with them, behind the distant ridges.

As one family after another dropped off, the town began to wear a lonely air. Wild and uncouth as were its inhabitants, we had formed a companionship with them. When, however, we entered their lodges, found the fires extinguished, the buildings stripped, and silence and solitude reigning where we had been greeted with kind looks and smiling faces, we experienced a dreary feeling, which increased our desire to be once more on the wing towards our still distant goal.

CHAP. XXIX.

DEPARTURE FROM THE OTOE VILLAGE.

It was about ten o’clock, on a rich golden morning, that we started from the Otoe village. The baggage waggons had left it some hours previous, and had long since passed the hills which rose behind the town. A crowd of gazers collected round us as we saddled our horses. At length every thing was completed, and, bidding farewell to the dusky group, we mounted, and galloped off in the direction taken by the waggons.

Our course lay along the borders of the Platte, which soon began to lose the luxuriant verdure that had fringed its banks in the neighbourhood of the Otoe town. Scarcely a tree or shrub grew upon its borders, or threw a shade upon the glare of its waters. It moved sullenly along, with now and then the floating trunk of some ponderous tree, drifting towards the still more murky waters of the Missouri.

Our party now counted about thirty, including Indians; and although, on account of the scarcity of provisions, four of the soldiers had been sent back to the garrison, still the reinforcement of Otoes more than compensated for their loss. They were a noble race of men, with more pride of character than we had observed in any of the Indians we had as yet met with. They had all prepared themselves for the journey. Their blankets were thrown over their shoulders and strapped round their waists, in such a manner as to leave a short skirt extending half way down to the knee. Their legs were protected by coarse leggings of buffalo skin. Each man carried a short scabbard, containing a knife; and several pair of mocassins were strapped upon the back of each. They had left their rifles at the village; and a short thick bow, with a well-stocked quiver of arrows, supplied their places. This was the usual equipment of an Indian warrior when starting on a peaceful journey.

The leader of the band was the Iotan chief. Next followed the short, thick figure of the Big Kaw, succeeded by the long form of the Thief; and after them came the inferior warriors. They moved in front of us, with limbs that seemed not to know fatigue; and although we travelled over many miles of prairie before nightfall, their pace was the same, and their step as unflagging as ever.

Take an Indian upon the prairies, and he is in his element. An air of wild freedom breathes around him. His head droops not; his eye quails not; and not a single feature yields in submission to his fellow man. He is unrestrained in body, unfettered in spirit, and as wayward as the breeze which sweeps over the grass of his own hills.

CHAP. XXX.

THE ALARM.

On the fifth night after our departure from the Otoe town, we encamped upon the banks of the Platte river. The night was clear and cool, and the reflected stars sparkled in the neighbouring river.

The prevailing silence was now and then broken by the neigh of our horses, who were pasturing at a short distance; or by the trumpet-toned cry of some wild goose, the leader of a flock, on their way to the north. Far to the south, a faint red light was reflected in the heaven, which one of the hunters attributed to the burning of a prairie, some twenty miles off.

A large fire of heavy logs had been built in front of the tent, and the party had gradually gathered round it. Two or three of our dusky companions mingled with the group—grave, but observing, spectators of the actions of the whites. Half of a large deer was roasting before the fire; and the Black Bear, with a face of vast importance, was busily engaged in concocting our evening’s supply of coffee in a large tin bucket, which swung from a pole, inclined over the fire. The interpreter was called upon for a story, and had just discharged a large roll of tobacco from his mouth to make room for the full play of his tongue. “Ugh!” exclaimed one of the Indians.

“What’s the matter now, _Hah-che-kah-sug-hah_?”[H] asked the doctor, addressing the Indian by his native name. The Indian glanced his eye towards the speaker as he heard his name uttered; but, after standing for a moment, he walked off a few steps and placed his hand behind his ear in the attitude of one engaged in earnest listening.

[H] This Indian was one of the principal braves of the Otoe nation, and has since become a chief. The name Hah-che-kah-sug-hah was given to him on account of his deadly success in the war parties against the Osages. It signifies, _the man who slays the Osages_. Though distinguished for ferocity in battle, yet in private life he was one of the most joyous, pleasant fellows I ever met with.

“What does he hear, D——?” said the doctor, turning to the Indian agent.

“We will know presently,” returned the other quietly, without evincing more curiosity than the red companion with whom he had so long taken up his residence.

For a moment the Indian stood with his brows knit, his eyes bent to the ground, his head inclining a little forward, his nostrils expanded, and every sense apparently on the _qui vive_. He remained so for a few seconds; then, throwing himself upon the ground, pressed his ear closely against the sod.

“What do you hear, Hah-che-kah-sug-hah?” asked the agent, in the Otoe tongue.

“There is an Indian on the prairie,” was the answer.

This annunciation, being interpreted, drew forth loud expressions of surprise from the whites: but the Indians were perfectly quiet; they asked no questions and made no remarks. They appeared to have the greatest reliance upon the Indian, whose keen hearing had been first attracted by the sound. They watched him earnestly, but calmly, as he lay upon the ground. After continuing in this position for some time, he slowly rose up, and placed his hand again behind his ear—the very image of the most intense attention. Then taking up a pouch and rifle, belonging to one of the hunters, he stole off until he was lost in the gloom which hung over the prairie.

The contrast between the whites and Indians was now clearly observable. The former immediately commenced a conversation, teeming with suppositions, suggestions, and all that out-pouring of confused ideas, usual when a dozen persons, altogether ignorant of a subject, attempt to throw a little light upon it for the benefit of their neighbours. The Indians, on the contrary, remained perfectly cool; so much so, that one of them quietly turned the attention of the cook to a large piece of meat which he was frying to a cinder, in his eagerness to listen to the comments of the party. They appeared to take the matter with as much quietness as if they had been in the heart of their own town, instead of a large prairie, infested by bands of hostile tribes.

Nearly ten minutes had elapsed, when a loud shrill cry arose in the prairie from two different quarters.

“Ugh! Otoe!” repeated several of the Indians, but without moving.

At that moment another long quavering whoop sounded in the air.

“Hah-che-kah-sug-hah!” ejaculated one of the Otoes.

A few moments elapsed, and two strange Otoes appeared in the camp, followed by the dusky form of our Indian friend.

In a few words they told their story. They had been to the Pawnee village, which was about ten miles off, and had left it that evening. About an hour previous they had been espied by a party of Sioux Indians, who had pursued them. Seeing a light, they fled for it. Their enemies followed; and they believed that, even now, they were lurking in the prairie, at but a short distance from the camp.

In an instant all was uproar. Some ran for their guns; some loaded; others filled their powder-horns; others swore at their comrades, on account of the loss of some article of equipment; but all were busily employed in suggesting to their neighbours what was best to be done in the present emergency, and all followed their own inclinations. “Raise the flag!” at last cried one, “and let them see that there are whites in the party; the fear of their rifles may keep them off.”

This was no sooner proposed than executed. A tall pole, with a striped flag floating from the end of it, was reared in front of the tent, in the full light of the fire.

The old Iotan saw the flag hoisted, and though he did not exactly understand why it was done, still he supposed that there was some meaning in it. So he followed the example of the whites, and erected a pole among a pile of kettles, marking his place of encampment. He then decorated the end with a striped flag, which he had hitherto used as a wrapper on state occasions.

“But, Major,” said one, looking rather wild, and walking up to the Indian Agent, “we are representatives of government—will the Sioux dare to fire on the United States?”

“If the people of the United States were _all_ assembled, I presume they would not,” was the quiet answer. “But you had better get back from the fire. The Otoes have done so already. They know that an Indian can pick a man off easier if he stands in the light of the blaze than if he keeps in the shade. You had better join them in the grass yonder; there is no chance for running, for there’s no place to run to.”

This was satisfactory, and in another moment the questioner had followed the example of the savages.

The confusion lasted for a short time; but at length each man had prepared himself. When this was completed, there was nothing more that could be done. There might be an enemy within a few yards, and they might be at the distance of many miles. The darkness was so great that it was impossible to see more than ten yards beyond the fire. Our foes, on the other hand, if any there were, would be able to catch sight of our forms moving between them and the flame, at twenty times that distance. At length a young Indian rose up, and, moving swiftly past the fire, threw himself on the ground beyond. For a moment he remained stationary, and then, raising his head, commenced worming his way through the long grass, until he was lost in the darkness. He returned after an absence of nearly half an hour. He had made a long circuit round the camp, but had discovered nothing. He had seen no signs of an enemy; and he gave it as his opinion, that they had abandoned the pursuit, and that no other human beings besides ourselves were in the neighbourhood. As he concluded he took his seat at the fire, with the confident air of a person who felt that there was nothing to be apprehended from this exposure. He was soon followed by the rest, and in a short time the camp was as merry and noisy as if nothing had taken place to excite their fears.

CHAP. XXXI.

PREPARATIONS FOR RECEPTION.—RECEPTION BY GRAND PAWNEES.

During the evening previous to our arrival, several half-breeds, who had been sent out by the Commissioner to gain information of the probable reception which awaited us, came dropping in, all bearing promises of a friendly welcome from the Pawnee chiefs. At sunrise the next morning, the tents were struck, and placed in the heavy baggage waggons; and a more than usual bustle and note of preparation was heard in the camp. The soldiers seated themselves upon the grass, to examine and prepare their arms; and the Otoe Indians were busily engaged in ornamenting themselves for the meeting. Some had spread their blankets upon the prairie, and were anxiously employed in tracing various figures in vermilion upon their woolly surfaces. Some, eagerly bending over the small pools of still water left in the dry bed of the river, were painting their faces with vermilion, manifesting as much interest and anxiety in the choice of their ornaments, as a young belle preparing for her first ball. Paint was placed on and rubbed off. Faces were striped first in one direction, then in another; and the advice of those who were sitting round was asked, and given, with all the gravity befitting so important an operation. In the meantime, two or three finished their toilets, and seated themselves at a short distance to serve as models for the rest. Several who had acquired some reputation for skill in this art, were busily engaged in painting up the less gifted of their companions. Whilst this was going on in one quarter, in another, five or six Indians, who either had no paint, or cared not about the opinion of those they intended to visit, lay stretched at full length in the grass. Here they kept up an incessant drumming upon their breasts with their fists, in exact time to a chant, which they were letting out at the top of their lungs, and which always wound up with a loud yell, by way of chorus.

But there must be an end of all things, and in due time there was an end of the preparations. The tents were packed; the Indians were painted and striped to resemble any thing but men; the soldiers had adjusted their arms; the horses were saddled; the oxen were secured before the heavy baggage waggons, and the party commenced slowly moving towards the village.

It was a fine sunny morning; the clumps of trees which clustered on the low banks of the river, and the numberless islands which dotted its broad, shallow waters, were alive with woodpeckers of every size and hue. In every direction they darted among the tall dead trees which overhung the muddy stream, making the trunks resound with the incessant hammering of their small but powerful beaks. Large flocks of gaily plumed parroquets whirled screaming past us, with a surprising velocity.

At ten o’clock the party had travelled several miles across the prairie, and our vicinity to the village was becoming more perceptible. Mounted Indians, sent out to watch for our approach, were seen here and there flying across the hills in the direction of the village, to give notice of the arrival to their chiefs. At a distance we could perceive several bands of Indians in pursuit of large droves of their wild and fiery horses, which they were urging at a headlong speed in the direction of the town. In another quarter, on the top of a ridge of small hills, groups of five or six were standing, intently watching the motions of the party, which, from the jaded state of the oxen, were necessarily slow. The soldiers, who had been lazily lounging across the prairie, were now called in, and formed in a compact body round the baggage waggons. An hour more brought us in sight of the village.

Upon our near approach, we could perceive that the hills surrounding it were black with masses of mounted warriors. Though they swarmed upon their tops, to the number of several thousands, yet they stood motionless and in silence, watching the approach of the mission. At length a single horseman detached himself from the mass, and came galloping down the hill and over the prairie to meet us. As he approached, there was a wild, free air about him, and he governed his gigantic black horse with the greatest ease. I could not but think that if the rest of these warriors were of the same mould, any resistance of our band, however desperate, would avail but little against an attack of these proud rulers of the prairie.

Upon reaching the party, he sprang from his horse, and shook hands with Mr. E——. He then gave directions, through the interpreter, that the band should be drawn up in as small a compass as possible, to avoid all contact with his warriors. After spending some time in completing his arrangements, he galloped back, and gave the signal to the rest. In an instant the hills were deserted, and the whole mass of warriors were rushing towards us, across the broad bosom of the prairie. It was a moment of intense and fearful expectation. On they came; each mad horse with erect mane and blazing eye, urged forward by the bloody spur of an Indian master. They had reached within two hundred yards of the party, but still the speed of their horses was unchecked, and the powerful tramp of their hoofs rang like thunder upon the sod of the prairie. At a signal, however, from the chief, the band separated to the right and left, and commenced circling round us, in one dark, dense flood. Their whoops and yells, and the furious and menacing manner in which they brandished their bows and tomahawks, would have led a person unacquainted with their habits to have looked upon this reception as any thing but friendly. There is something in the fierce, shrill scream of a band of Indian warriors, which rings through the brain, and sends the blood curdling back to the heart. Their ornaments, though wild, were many of them beautiful. The closely shaved heads of some were adorned with the plumage of different birds. Others wore an ornament of deer’s hair, bound up in a form resembling the crest of an ancient helmet; and a plume of the bald eagle floated from the long scalp-locks of the principal warriors.

Some few wore necklaces of the claws of the grisly bear hanging down upon their breasts. The bodies of some were wrapped in buffalo robes, or the skin of the white wolf; but the most of them wore no covering, save a thick coat of paint. This they had profusely smeared over their bodies and arms, and many had even bestowed it upon the heads and limbs of their horses. After dashing round us for some time, the chief waved his hand, and the turmoil ceased. The warriors sprang from their horses, and, seating themselves round in a large circle, waited for the arrival of the chief of the Grand Pawnees. In a few moments he advanced to meet Mr. E——, accompanied by the different chiefs of Tappage Pawnee, Pawnee Republican, and Pawnee Loup villages. He was a tall, powerful Indian. A fillet of the skin of the grisly bear, ornamented with feathers, was bound round his head. Over his shoulder was thrown a large mantle of white wolf-skin, also adorned with feathers. His legs were cased in black leggings of dressed buffalo hide, worked with beads, and fringed with long locks of human hair. These were taken from scalps won in his various war expeditions, and hung down over his knees, trailing upon the ground as he walked. He first advanced and welcomed Mr. E——, and afterwards the rest. The chiefs of the three different villages were then introduced, and repeated the words of welcome uttered by the first.

This ceremony was scarcely finished when a movement was observed among the crowd; and a powerful roan horse, mounted by an armed Indian, bounded forward to the middle of the circle, where the rider sprang from his back. He was a stranger among the tribe, and spoke not their language—a Kioway[I] Indian, from the borders of Mexico—a member of those wild tribes who, like the Arabs, rove the immense plains of the west, and carry destruction to all who are not strong enough to resist them. After pausing and looking around him for a moment, with a glance that seemed to challenge opposition from the assembled warriors, he walked up to Mr. E——. He was slight, and beautifully formed; but there was a fire in his eye, a swell of the nostril, and a proud curve of the lip, which showed a spirit that brooked no opposition, shunned no danger, and could only be quenched by the chill of the grave. His long black hair, which trailed behind him on the ground, was plaited together, and ornamented with about twenty plates of massive silver. A band of silver was fastened round his throat, and several large medals of the same metal hung upon his breast. Upon his arms were several bands of silver, and rings of the same upon his fingers. His leggings, though more finely wrought, like those of the chiefs, were fringed with scalps. A scalp, consisting of the entire upper part of a human head, hung from the bit of his fiery horse. Upon coming up, he offered his hand to Mr. E——, and in succession to the rest; and after pausing and gazing upon us for a short time, with some curiosity, he sprang upon his horse, and, riding through the circle, was lost behind the more distant crowd of warriors.

[I] We afterwards learned that this Indian had become enamoured of a young girl of his own tribe, the wife of another; but her husband having gone upon some expedition, she had taken advantage of his absence to leave her nation with her lover; and together they had fled to the Pawnee village, which they reached a week previous to our arrival.

For a short time after the introduction of the various chiefs, the mass of grim beings hemmed us in, sitting upon the ground like so many dark forms of statuary, without voice or motion. Several at length arose, and, coming towards Mr. E—— and Major D—— (the United States agent for the Pawnee Indians), extended the stem of their pipes to the lips of each; then, instantly retiring, resumed their station in the crowd. By this action, we afterwards learned, that each pledged himself to present a horse to the person to whom he extended his pipe. In the meanwhile, two old men, who had no horses to lose by the free indulgence of liberal feelings, rose up, and, by loud and vehement harangues, endeavoured to pique the liberality of the rest. They boasted of the number they would bestow, _if they but had them_; and recounted, as examples, the acts of generosity which they had performed in their youth. As that youth ran far back, beyond the memory of the oldest inhabitant, there was little probability of their being contradicted.

After they had finished, the Wild Horse (I do not recollect his Indian name), the principal warrior of the nation, stood up and harangued the assembled multitude. He launched out in a long panegyric upon the whites, which was delivered with a warmth of expression no doubt greatly increased by the sight of the waggons laden with presents. This warrior was one of the most singular, as well as ferocious, of the tribe; and many were the tales of his war expeditions, afterwards related to us by the trappers, as we lay stretched around our night-fires. His height could have been but little short of seven feet, and every limb was in proportion. Unlike the rest of his tribe, his hair remained unshaven, and hung in long tangled locks, which reached nearly to his waist, and were profusely smeared with red ochre. His low, retreating forehead was almost buried in wrinkles; and his eyes, deep set in his head, glowed like living coals. His nose was large and prominent; and the size of an enormous mouth was not at all diminished by two streaks of vermilion, which he had drawn from each corner to his ears. He wore neither covering nor ornament, unless the profusion of black clay and red ochre, which covered his body, deserved that name. He stood out, in his naked proportions, a giant among those who surrounded him; and the wild energy of his gesticulation, as he delivered his harangue, showed the prodigious strength hidden in his form, and which only required an occasion to bring it into action. From his youth upward he had been the leading warrior in the nation, and his deeds had spread a terror of his name through all the hostile tribes. Though no chief, his influence in the village was equal to theirs, rendering him as much an object of jealousy to them, as of dread to their enemies.

When he had finished his address, the chief rose and spoke to his men. After this, the circle opened; and, forming into two lines, one on each side, the warriors prepared to escort us into their village.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

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Transcriber’s Note - Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation have been standardized but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged. - Footnotes placed at end of their respective paragraph.