The description of the buffalo hunt, given by the hunter, made a deep
impression on the minds of the young people; and the manner of using
the long, thin lance called forth their wonder, and excited their
emulation. Austin became a Camanchee from the Mexican provinces, the
Camanchees being among the most expert lancers and horsemen; Brian
called himself a Sioux, from the Mississippi; and Basil styled himself
a Pawnee, from the Rocky Mountains.
Many were the plans and expedients to get up a buffalo hunt upon a
large scale, but the difficulty of procuring buffaloes was
insurmountable. Austin, it is true, did suggest an inroad among the
flock of sheep of a neighbouring farmer maintaining that the
scampering of the sheep would very much resemble the flight of a herd
of buffaloes; but this suggestion was given up, on the ground that the
farmer might not think it so entertaining an amusement as they did.
It was doubtful, at one time, whether, in their extremity, they should
not be compelled to convert the chairs and tables into buffaloes; but
Austin, whose heart was in the thing, had a bright thought, which
received universal approbation. This was to make buffaloes of their
playfellow Jowler, the Newfoundland dog, and the black tom-cat.
Jowler, with his shining shaggy skin, was sure to make a capital
buffalo; and Black Tom would do very well, as buffaloes were not all
of one size. To work they went immediately, to prepare themselves for
their adventurous undertaking, dressing themselves up for the
approaching enterprise; and, if they did not succeed in making
themselves look like Indians, they certainly did present a most
grotesque appearance.
In the best projects, however, there is oftentimes an oversight, which
bids fair to ruin the whole undertaking; and so it was on this
occasion; for it never occurred to them, until they were habited as
hunters, to secure the attendance of Jowler and Black Tom. Encumbered
with their lances, bows, arrows and hanging dresses, they had to
search the whole house, from top to bottom, in quest of Black Tom; and
when he was found, a like search was made for Jowler. Both Jowler and
Black Tom were at length found, and led forth to the lawn, which was
considered to be an excellent prairie.
No sooner was the signal given for the hunt to commence, than Black
Tom, being set at liberty, instead of acting his part like a buffalo,
as he ought to have done, scampered across the lawn to the shrubbery,
and ran up a tree; while Jowler made a rush after him; so that the
hunt appeared to have ended almost as soon as it was begun. Jowler was
brought back again to the middle of the lawn, but no one could prevail
on Black Tom to descend from his eminence.
Once more Jowler, the buffalo, was set at liberty; and Austin, Brian,
and Basil, the Camanchee, Sioux, and Pawnee chieftains, brandished
their long lances, preparing for the chase: but it seemed as though
they were to be disappointed, for Jowler, instead of running away,
according to the plan of the hunters, provokingly kept leaping up,
first at one, and then at another of them; until having overturned the
Pawnee on the lawn, and put the Sioux and Camanchee out of all
patience, he lay down panting, with his long red tongue out of his
mouth, looking at them just as though he had acted his part of the
affair capitally.
At last, not being able to reduce the refractory Jowler to obedience,
no other expedient remained than that one of them should act the part
of a buffalo himself. Austin was very desirous that this should be
done by Brian or Basil; but they insisted that he, being the biggest,
was most like a buffalo. The affair was at length compromised, by each
agreeing to play the buffalo in turn. A desperate hunt then took
place, in the course of which their long lances were most skilfully
and effectually used; three buffaloes were slain, and the Camanchee,
Sioux, and Pawnee returned in triumph from the chase, carrying a
buffalo-hide (a rug mat from the hall) on the tops of their spears.
On their next visit to the hunter, they reminded him that, the last
time he saw them, he had intended to speak about the prairies; but
that the history of Black Hawk, and the account of the buffalo hunt,
had taken up all the time. They told him that they had come early, on
purpose to hear a long account; and, perhaps, he would be able to tell
them all about Nikkanochee into the bargain.
The hunter replied, if that was the case, the sooner he began his
narrative the better; so, without loss of time, he thus commenced his
account.
_Hunter._ Though in our country there are dull, monotonous rivers,
with thick slimy waters, stagnant swamps, and pine forests almost
immeasureable in extent; yet, still, some of the most beautiful and
delightful scenes in the whole world are here.
_Austin._ How big are the prairies? I want to know more about them.
_Hunter._ They extend for many hundreds of miles, though not without
being divided and diversified with other scenery. Mountains and
valleys, and forests and rivers, vary the appearance of the country.
The name _prairie_ was given to the plains of North America by the
French settlers. It is the French word for meadow. I will describe
some prairie scenes which have particularly struck me. These vast
plains are sometimes flat; sometimes undulated, like the large waves
of the sea; sometimes barren; sometimes covered with flowers and
fruit; and sometimes there is grass growing on them eight or ten feet
high.
_Brian._ I never heard of such high grass as that.
_Hunter._ A prairie on fire is one of the most imposing spectacles you
can imagine. The flame is urged on by the winds, running and spreading
out with swiftness and fury, roaring like a tempest, and driving
before it deer, wolves, horses, and buffaloes, in wild confusion.
_Austin._ How I should like to see a prairie on fire!
_Hunter._ In Missouri, Arkansas, Indiana, and Louisiana, prairies
abound; and the whole State of Illinois is little else than a vast
prairie. From the Falls of the Missouri to St. Louis, a constant
succession of prairie and river scenes, of the most interesting kind,
meet the eye. Here the rich green velvet turf spreads out immeasurably
wide; breaking towards the river into innumerable hills and dales,
bluffs and ravines, where mountain goats and wolves and antelopes and
elks and buffaloes and grizzly bears roam in unrestrained liberty. At
one time, the green bluff slopes easily down to the water's edge;
while, in other places, the ground at the edge of the river presents
to the eye an endless variety of hill and bluff and crag, taking the
shapes of ramparts and ruins, of columns, porticoes, terraces, domes,
towers, citadels and castles; while here and there seems to rise a
solitary spire, which might well pass for the work of human hands. But
the whole scene, varying in colour, and lit up and gilded by the
mid-day sun, speaks to the heart of the spectator, convincing him that
none but an Almighty hand could thus clothe the wilderness with
beauty.
[Illustration]
_Austin._ Brian! Do you not wish now to see the prairies of North
America?
_Brian._ Yes; if I could see them without going among the tomahawks
and scalping-knives.
_Hunter._ I remember one part where the ragged cliffs and cone-like
bluffs, partly washed away by the rains, and partly crumbled down by
the frosts, seemed to be composed of earths of a mineral kind, of clay
of different colours and of red pumice stone. The clay was white,
brown, yellow and deep blue; while the pumice stone, lit up by the
sunbeam, was red like vermilion. The loneliness, the wildness and
romantic beauty of the scene I am not likely to forget.
_Basil._ I should like to see those red rocks very much.
_Hunter._ For six days I once continued my course, with a party of
Indians, across the prairie, without setting my eyes on a single tree,
or a single hill affording variety to the scene. Grass, wild flowers,
and strawberries, abounded more or less through the whole extent. The
spot where we found ourselves at sundown, appeared to be exactly that
from which we started at sunrise. There was little variety, even in
the sky itself; and it would have been a relief, (so soon are we weary
even of beauty itself,) to have walked a mile over rugged rocks, or to
have forced our way through a gloomy pine wood, or to have climbed the
sides of a steep mountain.
_Brian._ I hardly think that I should ever be tired of green grass and
flowers and strawberries.
_Hunter._ Oh yes, you would. Variety in the works of creation is a
gift of our bountiful Creator, for which we are not sufficiently
thankful. Look at the changing seasons; how beautifully they vary the
same prospect! And the changing clouds of heaven, too; what an
infinite and pleasurable variety they afford to us! If the world were
all sunshine, we should long for the shade.
_Austin._ What do you mean by bluffs?
_Hunter._ Round hills, or huge clayey mounds, often covered with grass
and flowers to the very top. Sometimes they have a verdant turf on
their tops, while their sides display a rich variety of many-coloured
earths, and thousands of gypsum crystals imbedded in the clay. The
romantic mixture of bluffs, and hills, with summits of green grass as
level as the top of a table, with huge fragments of pumice stone and
cinders, the remains of burning mountains, and granite sand, and
layers of different coloured clay, and cornelian, and agate, and
jasper-like pebbles; these, with the various animals that graze or
prowl among them, and the rolling river, and a bright blue sky, have
afforded me bewildering delight. Some of the hunters and trappers
believe that the great valley of the Missouri was once level with the
tops of the table hills, and that the earth has been washed away by
the river, and other causes; but the subject is involved in much
doubt. It has pleased God to put a boundary to the knowledge of man in
many things. I think I ought to tell you of Floyd's grave.
_Austin._ Where was it? Who was Floyd.
_Hunter._ You shall hear. In the celebrated expedition of Clark and
Lewis to the Rocky Mountains, they were accompanied by Serjeant Floyd,
who died on the way. His body was carried to the top of a high
green-carpeted bluff, on the Missouri river, and there buried, and a
cedar post was erected to his memory. As I sat on his grave, and
looked around me, the stillness and the extreme beauty of the scene
much affected me. I had endured much toil, both in hunting and rowing;
sometimes being in danger from the grizzly bears, and, at others, with
difficulty escaping the war-parties of the Indians. My rifle had been
busy, and the swan and the pelican, the antelope and the elk, had
supplied me with food; and as I sat on a grave, in that beautiful
bluff in the wilderness--the enamelled prairie, the thousand grassy
hills that were visible, with their golden heads and long deep
shadows, (for the sun was setting,) and the Missouri winding in its
serpentine course, the whole scene was of the most beautiful and
tranquil kind. The soft whispering of the evening breeze, and the
distant, subdued and melancholy howl of the wolf, were the only sounds
that reached my ears. It was a very solitary, and yet a very
delightful hour.
_Basil._ I should not like to be by myself in such a place as that.
_Hunter._ There is another high bluff, not many miles from the cedar
post of poor Floyd, that is well known as the burial-place of
Blackbird, a famous chief of the O-ma-haw tribe; the manner of his
burial was extremely strange. As I was pulling up the river, a
traveller told me the story; and, when I had heard it, we pushed our
canoe into a small creek, that I might visit the spot. Climbing up the
velvet sides of the bluff, I sat me down by the cedar post on the
grave of Blackbird.
_Austin._ But what was the story? What was there strange in the burial
of the chief?
_Hunter._ Blackbird on his way home from the city of Washington, where
he had been, died with the small-pox. Before his death, he desired his
warriors to bury him on the bluff, sitting on the back of his
favourite war-horse, that he might see, as he said, the Frenchmen
boating up and down the river. His beautiful white steed was led up to
the top of the bluff, and there the body of Blackbird was placed
astride upon him.
_Brian._ What a strange thing!
_Hunter._ Blackbird had his bow in his hand, his beautiful head dress
of war-eagle plumes on his head, his shield and quiver at his side,
and his pipe and medicine bag. His tobacco pouch was filled, to supply
him on his journey to the hunting-grounds of his fathers; and he had
flint and steel wherewith to light his pipe by the way. Every warrior
painted his hand with vermilion, and then pressed it against the white
horse, leaving a mark behind him. After the necessary ceremonies had
been performed, Blackbird and his white war-horse were covered over
with turf, till they were no more seen.
_Austin._ But was the white horse buried alive?
_Hunter._ He was. The turfs were put about his feet, then piled up his
legs, then placed against his sides, then over his back, and lastly
over Blackbird himself and his war-eagle plumes.
_Brian._ That was a very cruel deed! They had no business to smother
that beautiful white horse in that way.
_Basil._ And so I say. It was a great shame, and I do not like that
Blackbird.
_Hunter._ Indians have strange customs. Now I am on the subject of
prairie scenes, I ought to speak a word of the prairies on the Red
River. I had been for some time among the Creeks and Choctaws,
crossing, here and there, ridges of wooded lands, and tracts of rich
herbage, with blue mountains in the distance, when I came to a prairie
scene of a new character. For miles together the ground was covered
with vines, bearing endless clusters of large delicious grapes; and
then, after crossing a few broad valleys of green turf, our progress
was stopped by hundreds of acres of plum trees, bending to the very
ground with their fruit. Among these were interspersed patches of rose
trees, wild currants, and gooseberries, with prickly pears, and the
most beautiful and sweet-scented wild flowers.
_Austin._ I never heard of so delightful a place. What do you think of
the prairies now, Basil? Should you not like to gather some of those
fruits and flowers, Brian?
_Hunter._ And then just as I was stretching out my hand to gather some
of the delicious produce of that paradise of fruit and flowers, I
heard the sound of a rattlesnake, that was preparing to make a spring,
and immediately I saw the glistening eyes of a copper-head, which I
had disturbed beneath the tendrils and leaves.
_Basil._ What do you think of the prairie now, Austin?
_Brian._ And should you not like to gather some of those fruits and
flowers?
_Austin._ I never suspected that there would be such snakes among
them.
_Hunter._ The wild creatures of these delightful spots may be said to
live in a garden; here they pass their lives, rarely disturbed by the
approach of man. The hunter and the trapper, however thoughtlessly
they pursue their calling, are at times struck with the amazing beauty
of the scenes that burst upon them. God is felt to be in the prairie.
The very solitude disposes the mind to acknowledge Him; earth and
skies proclaim his presence; the fruits of the ground declare his
bounty; and, in the flowers, ten thousand forget-me-nots bring his
goodness to remembrance. "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be
praised; and his greatness is unsearchable."[3]
[Footnote 3: Ps. cxlv. 3.]
_Austin._ I could not have believed that there had been such beautiful
places in the prairies.
_Hunter._ Some parts are varied, and others monotonous. Some are
beautiful, and others far from being agreeable. The Prairie la Crosse,
the Prairie du Chien, and the Couteau des Prairies on the Mississippi,
with the prairies on the Missouri, all have some points of attraction.
I did intend to say a little about Swan Lake, the wild rice grounds,
Lover's Leap, the salt meadows on the Missouri, the Savannah in the
Florida pine woods, and Red Pipe-stone Quarry; but as I intend to
give you the history of Nikkanochee, perhaps I had better begin with
it at once.
_Austin._ We shall like to hear of Nikkanochee, but it is so pleasant
to hear about the prairies, that you must, if you please, tell us a
little more about them first.
_Basil._ I want to hear about those prairie dogs.
_Brian._ And I want to hear of Lover's Leap.
_Austin._ What I wish to hear the most, is about Red Pipe-stone
quarry. Please to tell us a little about them all.
_Hunter._ Well! If you will be satisfied with a little, I will go on.
Swan Lake is one of the most beautiful objects in the prairies of our
country. It extends for many miles; and the islands with which it
abounds are richly covered with forest trees. Fancy to yourselves
unnumbered islands with fine trees, beautifully grouped together, and
clusters of swans on the water in every direction. If you want to play
at Robinson Crusoe, one of the islands on Swan Lake will be just the
place for you.
_Basil._ Well may it be called Swan Lake.
_Hunter._ The first time that I saw wild rice gathered, it much
surprised and amused me. A party of Sioux Indian women were paddling
about, near the shores of a large lake, in canoes made of bark. While
one woman paddled the canoe, the other gathered the wild rice, which
flourished there in great abundance. By bending it over the canoe with
one stick, and then striking it with another, the grains of rice fell
in profusion into the canoe. In this way they proceeded; till they
obtained full cargoes of wild rice for food.
_Brian._ I wish we had wild rice growing in our pond.
_Hunter._ What I have to say of Lover's Leap is a little melancholy.
On the east side of Lake Pepin, on the Mississippi, stands a bold
rock, lifting up its aspiring head some six or seven hundred feet
above the surface of the lake. Some years since, as the story goes, an
Indian chief wished his daughter to take a husband that she did not
like. The daughter declined, but the father insisted; and the poor,
distracted girl, to get rid of her difficulty, threw herself, in the
presence of her tribe, from the top of the rock, and was dashed to
pieces.
_Basil._ Poor girl, indeed! Her father was a very cruel man.
_Hunter._ The chief was cruel, and his daughter rash; but we must not
be too severe in judging those who have no better standard of right
and wrong than the customs of their uncivilized tribe. It was on the
Upper Missouri river, towards the mouth of the Teton river, that I
came all at once on a salt meadow. You would have thought that it had
been snowing for an hour or two, for the salt lay an inch or two thick
on the ground.
_Austin._ What could have brought it there?
_Hunter._ The same Almighty hand that spread out the wild prairie,
spread the salt upon its surface. There are salt springs in many
places, where the salt water overflows the prairie. The hot sun
evaporates the water, and the salt is left behind.
_Brian._ Well, that is very curious.
_Hunter._ The buffaloes and other animals come by thousands to lick
the salt, so that what with the green prairie around, the white salt,
and the black buffaloes, the contrast in colour is very striking.
Though Florida is, to a great extent, a sterile wilderness, yet, for
that very reason, some of its beautiful spots appear the more
beautiful. There are swamps enough, and alligators enough, to make the
traveller in those weary wilds cheerless and disconsolate; but when,
after plodding, day after day, through morasses and interminable pine
woods, listening to nothing but the cry of cranes and the howling of
wolves, he comes suddenly into an open plain covered with a carpet of
grass and myriads of wild flowers, his eye brightens, and he recovers
his cheerfulness and strength. He again feels that God is in the
prairie.
_Basil._ Remember the alligators, Austin!
_Brian._ And the howling wolves! What do you think of them?
_Hunter._ The Red Pipe-stone Quarry is between the Upper Mississippi
and the Upper Missouri. It is the place where the Indians of the
country procure the red stone with which they make all their pipes.
The place is considered by them to be sacred. They say that the Great
Spirit used to stand on the rock, and that the blood of the buffaloes
which he ate there ran into the rocks below, and turned them red.
_Austin._ That is the place I want to see.
_Hunter._ If you go there, you must take great care of yourself; for
the Sioux will be at your heels. As I said, they hold the place
sacred, and consider the approach of a white man a kind of
profanation. The place is visited by all the neighbouring tribes for
stone with which to make their pipes, whether they are at war or
peace; for the Great Spirit, say they, always watches over it, and the
war-club and scalping-knife are there harmless. There are hundreds of
old inscriptions on the face of the rocks; and the wildest traditions
are handed down, from father to son, respecting the place. Some of the
Sioux say, that the Great Spirit once sent his runners abroad, to call
together all the tribes that were at war, to the Red Pipe-stone
Quarry. As he stood on the top of the rocks, he took out a piece of
red stone, and made a large pipe; he smoked it over them, and told
them, that, though at war, they must always be at peace at that place,
for that it belonged to one as much as another, and that they must all
make their pipes of the stone. Having thus spoken, a thick cloud of
smoke from his great red pipe rolled over them, and in it he vanished
away. Just at the moment that he took the last whiff of his great,
long, red pipe, the rocks were wrapped in a blaze of fire, so that the
surface of them was melted. Two squaws, then, in a flash of fire, sunk
under the two medicine rocks, and no one can take away red stone from
the place without their leave. Where the gospel is unknown, there is
nothing too improbable to be received. The day will, no doubt,
arrive, when the wild traditions of Red Pipe-stone Quarry will be done
away, and the folly and wickedness of all such superstitions be
plainly seen.
Here the hunter, having to attend his sheep, left the three brothers,
to amuse themselves for half an hour with the curiosities in his
cottage; after which, he returned to redeem his pledge, by relating
the history he had promised them.
[Illustration: Indian Pipes.]
[Illustration]