The first buffalo--Father excited--Mr. Woolsey lost--Strike trail of
big camp--Indians dash at us--Meet Maskepetoon.
I have noticed that while man's stomach seems to need a lot of
stimulating, yet there are circumstances when this organ, in turn,
becomes a great stimulator; and the slowest in our party seemed to me
to feel this that day, so we rode steadily and fast.
South-east was our course into the big bend of the Battle River.
In the afternoon we did sight a buffalo. There he stood in his
hugeness and ugliness, on a plain, without any cover.
The only way was to run him; so father and Peter made ready for the
race.
Father was tremendously excited, and rushed around like a boy, pulled
off his big riding-boots and left them on the prairie, then threw
down his coat, untied his waterproof from his saddle and flung that
down also, and putting on a pair of moccasins, he vaulted into the
saddle with all the spring and vigor of youth, and rode off with
Peter towards the bull, who presently noticed them, and lifting up
his big, shaggy head, snuffed the air, and pawed the ground, and then
started.
His legs seemed to have no bend in them, and his gait at first was
slow, but as the horses came near on the dead run his gait increased
in speed. As he ran he turned his head from side to side to catch a
glimpse of his pursuers.
At first I thought I could catch him on foot; then he spurted, and
the hunters drove their horses to their best. Still the brute was
too far ahead for them to shoot, and thus buffalo and hunters
disappeared in the hills from our view, and, after them, William;
only our pack-horses, and Mr. Woolsey and myself, were left.
I gathered up what remained, boots, coats, etc., tied them to my
saddle, and we followed slowly at Mr. Woolsey's pace.
"We are lost, John. We may never find our friends again." These
were the comforting sentences Mr. Woolsey addressed to me, but I
thought otherwise, and said so, and comforted my venerable companion,
all the while keeping my eye on the spot where I had last seen our
friends disappearing.
On into the rolling hills we rode, and I did wish Mr. Woolsey would
come faster. Repeatedly he broke out about our big loss. Then I
heard voices, and we came up to our hunters and found them skinning
the buffalo. Taking some of the meat, we pushed on.
And now the whole country gave signs that recently large herds had
been roaming and feeding here, and our guide said we might strike the
Indians very soon.
But it was not until Tuesday afternoon we came to a large trail;
indeed, too many large trails, for these paralleled each other. Thus
the large camp kept in a compact mass, which was wise, as the enemy
was always on the lookout for stragglers, and as our party was small,
we were constantly on the watch against surprise.
But in the early afternoon, notwithstanding all our watchfulness, we
were surprised by a troop of Indian cavalry dashing at us from out of
the bluff on one side, and another from the other side.
[Illustration: WE WERE SURPRISED BY A TROOP OF INDIAN CAVALRY]
With whoops and yells and fine horsemanship they bore down upon us,
and I did not know what to think for a while. But Peter did not seem
to mind them; he only sat his horse straighter than before, and soon
I knew these were friends sent out to escort us into camp.
Then, as we kept on the trail, presently we saw a flag, and coming up
over the hill a small body of riders, and in the centre a
"kingly-looking man."
"That is Maskepetoon," said Mr. Woolsey. We alighted as we met, and
the chief, addressing the Deity, expressed his thankfulness because
of father's coming, and invoked a blessing on our meeting. They all
shook hands, and in company with the chief and escort, we continued
on our way to the camp.
I was taking stock of the Indians around us, as also of their horses.
The men were fine specimens generally, a large percentage very
good-looking; their costumes were varied and unique, and ranged from
a breech-cloth and looking-glass on to perforated leather shirts and
leggings. Also fancy-colored calico was common for little shirts,
which were not more than waists, and the sleeves of which came a
little past the elbow. Most of the young men had their hair
"banged," and I believe that fashion, now so common everywhere,
originally came from the plains. Most of them had brass pendants
hanging from the hair and ears, also brass collars and armlets. Some
had sea-shells on their necks. All were armed with either bow and
quiver or flint-lock guns; nearly all were painted, red, yellow and
blue being the chief colors, red predominating.
The saddles were home-made--some with a bone and wood frame, covered
with rawhide; others a pad of dressed leather, stuffed with moose or
deer hair. Stirrups were wood, covered with rawhide; stirrup
leathers and girths were softened rawhide. Saddle-cloths were
home-made, consisting of the skins of bear, wolf, dog, buffalo, etc.,
and trimmed with strips of red and blue Hudson's Bay strouds (a
strong kind of cloth made for this trade).
Horses were of all colors and sizes, some very smart and frisky, and
many of them exceedingly handsome. The whole scene was harmonious
and picturesque, and highly interesting to me. All my previous life
had been spent among Indians, but they were canoe men, and wood
hunters, and fishermen, and for some generations at peace. Here were
plain hunters, and buffalo Indians, and warriors. Some of these rode
horses recently taken from the enemy. Some of them wore scalp-locks
dangling from arm or leg, which not many moons since were the pride
of the original owners, and on whose heads they had grown. But as I
took in these new surroundings, we were approaching the camp, and the
crowd around us had increased.
Many more men had ridden out to meet us, and crowds of boys, two and
three on one pony, were joining our _cortège_ all the while.
So far as I could see, the ponies were as full of fun as the boys.
Many of the latter were naked, except for the paint and brass
ornaments and beads with which they were bedecked.