AN ABORIGINAL HOME
The terrifying walk of Otto Relstaub ended sooner and more agreeably
than he anticipated. He had in fact gone but a short ways when he
became aware that the Osage had a definite destination before him.
A light flashed out from the gloom in front, vanishing before the
boy could locate it. A few steps further and it reappeared, again
dropping from sight.
Otto was walking slowly, intently peering in the direction and
naturally wondering what it all meant, when, as he moved slightly to
the left, it once more came to view. This showed that it was
visible only when approached along a certain line. It was not an
ordinary camp-fire, but the light flitted in and out of sight, on
account of the objects intervening between it and the spectator;
there was absolutely but a single line of advance which would keep
it in view.
The Indian gave no expression to his views, but the rustling leaves
told that he was still treading on the heels of the lad, who knew
that so long as he walked straight toward the light, he was
following the wishes of his master.
Suddenly something flitted in front of the blaze, as though a person
had stepped quickly past. But Otto had secured the range, so to
speak, and so far as the trees and undergrowth permit, he advanced
in a direct line. The distance being short, the whole thing
speedily became clear to him.
The fire was burning within and at the further side of a wigwam, and
was first seen through the opening which served as an entrance.
Thus it was that when he diverged to the right or left it was shut
from sight.
"It ish, de vigvam of him," thought Otto, "ish going to takes me mit
dere, and pieces to makes de childrens laugh."
The boy softly returned the knife to its place, for he was anxious
that the chieftain should see no signs of fear on his part. A few
steps further and he stopped in front of the door of the lodge,
afraid to enter until something more was said by his master.
The entrance of Otto into the aboriginal home was anything but
dignified. The proprietor observing that he had halted, gave him
such a powerful shove that he sprawled headlong in the middle of the
"apartment."
"Oof!" grunted the sachem, bending his head so as to push his body
through the opening, which was not closed after him; "lazy dog!"
Otto did not think it wise to dispute the question. He was not hurt
by the fall, and rising, stepped back against the side of the lodge
and took a good view of his surroundings.
The wigwam of the Osage chieftain was similar to those which may be
found to-day on the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, in the depths of
the wilderness along the Assiniboine, on the shores of Athabasca
Lake in the far North, and beyond the Llano Estacado of the South.
It was modeled in the same style that was fashionable when Columbus
saw the lights of the New World twinkling through the gloom of the
night across the unknown sea, and which will prevail so long as the
American Indian roams the woods and wields the tomahawk.
A half dozen poles were pushed into the ground in a rude circle, so
as to include a space between four and five yards in diameter. The
tops of the poles joined, as do the bayonets of muskets when stacked.
This framework was covered with the skins of bison and deer, sewed
together with the sinews of the latter. At the peak of the roof was
an opening a foot in diameter, partly filled by the network of poles
there locked together. This answered for a chimney to the fire
kindled at one side of the lodge.
Directly opposite the fireplace (if it may be called that), was the
opening which served as a door, there being no other outlet except
the one named. The deer-skin could be flung back or allowed to hang
down. If the wind set it to flapping, it was pinned fast with a
knife or sharp stick.
The ground in most places was covered with bison-skins, so that in
moderately cold weather they were comfortable and pleasant to sit
and recline upon. The skins composing the sides of the wigwam were
soiled with smoke, grease and dirt for alas! nearly all the romance
and charm enveloping the American Indian is dissipated at first
sight by his frightful lack of cleanliness.
But Otto Relstaub had viewed the interior of Indian wigwams before,
and his interest was fixed upon the occupants, of whom there were
three beside himself. The squaw or wife of the chief was at the
further end, or rather the side opposite the door, busy broiling two
slices of venison on the coals. She had no kettle, pan, knife or
fork in the lodge, her sole implement being a sharpened stick,
scarcely a foot in length, which she used in turning and handling
the meat.
When Otto came tumbling through the door, the mistress was in the
act of lifting one of the slices from the coals. She was on her
knees, and paused for a second with the meat in air, while she
glanced around to see whether her lord and master had been imbibing
too much fire-water. One glance was enough, and she turned back and
gave her attention to the culinary operations.
She wore moccasins, leggings, and a species of loose hunting-shirt,
tied with a cord about the waist, and which protected her-body quite
well, though the deer-skin composing it looked as if it had served
as a part of the wigwam for a number of years. Her long, black hair
dangled about her shoulders, as did that of her husband, and she
was no more cleanly in her person than was he.
Perhaps the most interesting object in the place was an Indian
infant, less than a year old, which lay on a bison-robe not far from
the fire. It was a male, too young to walk, though it had been
freed from the coffin-like cradle in which the aboriginal babies are
strapped and carried on the backs of their mothers.
The little fellow was covered to his arm-pits, the bare arms lying
outside on the bison-robe. He kept these going in an awkward,
spasmodic fashion, which caused the infantile fist now and then to
land in his eye. On such occasions the organ winked very suddenly,
and the boy seemed to start with a gasp of surprise, but he did not
cry. Young as he was, he had been trained in the iron school which
makes the American Indian indifferent to suffering and torture.
This aboriginal youth showed more interest in the new arrival than
did any one else. His fists became motionless, his head flapped
over on one side, and the twinkling black eyes were fixed upon Otto
as though they would read him through. If we could recall the
fancies that flitted through our brains at that early stage of
existence, what a wonderful kaleidoscope it would present!
The limits of the wigwam were so moderate that the sachem was
compelled to lay aside most of his dignity. Seating himself on a
robe, just across from their guest, he said something to his squaw,
and then, leaning back, with his legs crossed and his arms folded,
he placidly smoked his pipe and awaited supper. The wife answered
with what sounded like a half dozen grunts, but did not look around
or cease giving her full attention to the broiling venison.
The prisoner observed a long, fine-looking rifle leaning against one
side of the wigwam, the powder-horn and bullet-pouch on the ground
near the stock. Beside them, a bow as long and powerful as that of
Deerfoot; and a quiver half full of arrows also lay on the earth.
Like the Shawanoe, the Osage was an adept in the use of both
weapons.
In addition to the furniture referred to, a few cast-off garments of
the owners were flung on one side, while some additional pieces of
venison lay upon, or rather among, a mass of leaves, where they
could be found when needed. The smoke from the fire found its way
through the opening in the roof, and the vapor from the pipe of the
Osage, after slowly winding above his head, seemed to lean off to
one side and grope its way toward the same vent. A partial draught
was created through the door of the wigwam, by which the impure air
was carried away, and the interior rendered much more pleasant than
would be supposed.
Like a true native American gentleman, the chieftain sat calmly
enjoying his pipe, while his wife did the work of the household, and
she, in accordance with universal law, accepted the drudgery as one
of the necessities of existence.
There were some facts respecting the Indian wigwam and its owner
which may as well be stated in this place. The red man had been a
chief of the Osage tribe, but a violent quarrel with his people
caused him to withdraw, and he was living entirely alone in the
woods with his family. The village where he had reigned so long was
miles distant. He had a number of partisans who occasionally called
at his "residence" to see and urge him to return, but he continued
sulking in his tent, smoked his awful pipe, and shook his head to
all their appeals.
The wigwam, while similar in shape to the hundreds still to be found
in the wilderness of the North American continent differed in some
respects, while retaining the same general form. Many a lodge
contains but the single ridge-pole, standing in the centre of the
structure, which, in the shape of a cone, is gathered at the top and
spreads out at the bottom, where it is fastened in place by pegs,
similar to those of the ordinary army tent.
Otto Relstaub, being relieved from his fear of instant death, became
sensitive to the appetizing odor of the broiling deer-steaks, and
looked longingly toward the unattractive cook, whose only redeeming
feature was the beauty of her teeth, which were as regular and
almost as white as those of Deerfoot.
When, a few minutes later, the slices of meat were ready, the squaw
flung one to her master, who dextrously caught it with his right
hand while he removed the pipe with the other. Laying the latter on
the ground beside him, he began eating his supper, using both hands,
much as a bear employs his paws.
The wife devoured her share in the same manner, the two forming a
striking, but by no means attractive, picture. The meat was
obviously tough, but their teeth were equal to the work, and plates,
knives and forks would have been only an encumbrance.
While the mother was thus occupied, she kept looking across at her
baby, who seemed to be watching her with comical wishfulness.
By-and-by, the parent gave a flirt of her hand, and a piece of the
venison, which she had bitten off, went flying toward the head of
the youngster. He made an awkward grab with both hands, but it
landed on his pug nose. He quickly found it, and shoving it between
his lips, began fiercely sucking and tugging, as though it afforded
the most delicious nourishment, which undoubtedly was fact.
"I dinks they have forgot me," Otto said himself, with a sigh; "I
vish dot she would fro me a piece of dot, and see whedder she could
hit mine nose; yaw--Id just open mine mouth and cotch him on de
fly."
The lad had seated himself with his back against the side of the
wigwam, and no one could have looked at his face and failed to know
he was as hungry as one of his years could well be. Had the people
possessed more food than they wished, and had it been cooked, it is
possible they would have tossed him a piece, but, as it was, they
had no intention of doing anything of the kind, as Otto plainly saw.
"They am pigs," he said, taking care that the huge chief did not
overhear his muttered words; "if I starve, dey will sot dere and
laugh at me till they dies."
The meat soon vanished, and then the squaw began fumbling among the
leaves where the uncooked venison lay. Otto's eyes sparkled with
hope.
"She is going to cook mit a piece for meawh!"
Instead of food, she fished out a pipe, similar to that of her
master. Walking to him she held out her hand, and he passed over a
pouch of tobacco, from which she filled the bowl of her pipe,
punching in and compressing the stuff with her forefinger. Then it
was lighted, with a coal of fire which she deftly scooped up, and
sitting, so that she faced her guest, she crossed her feet, and
leaning her elbows on her knees, stared at him, the picture of
enjoyment, as she puffed her pipe. At the same time, the baby
eagerly sucked and chewed his bit of meat, and, no doubt, was as
happy as its parents.
But this had continued only a few minutes, when all the adults
started, for footsteps on the outside showed that some one was
approaching the wigwam.