Buffaloes, bears, wild horses, wolves, deer, prairie-dogs and
musk-rats, were a fruitful source of conversation to the young people
in their leisure hours, until such time as they could again visit
their interesting friend at the cottage. Various plans were formed to
attack grizzly bears, to catch wild horses, and to scare away
half-famished wolves; in all of which, Jowler, notwithstanding his bad
behaviour at the buffalo hunt, was expected to act a distinguished
part. Black Tom was scarcely considered worth thinking about, he being
too wild by half for a wild horse, and too faint-hearted for a grizzly
bear. At one time, it was so far determined for him to play the part
of a prairie-dog, that Austin set about digging a hole for him:
before it was finished, however, the plan was abandoned; Brian and
Basil both feeling positive that, let Austin dig a hole as deep as he
would, Black Tom would never be persuaded to run into it.
After much deliberation, catching wild horses being given up--on the
score that Black Tom would run away too fast, and Jowler would not run
a way at all--a bear hunt was resolved on, having, as Brian observed,
two especial advantages: the first, that all of them could enjoy the
sport at once; and the second, that Jowler would be sure to attack
them all, just like a grizzly bear.
No time was lost in preparing their long spears, and in dressing
themselves as much like renowned chiefs as their knowledge and
resources would allow. And, in order that Jowler might the more
closely resemble a grizzly bear, a white apron was spread over his
broad back, and tied round his neck. The lawn was, as before, the
scene of their exploits, the prairie on which the fearful monster was
to be overcome; and, to the credit of their courage be it spoken,
neither Austin, Brian nor Basil, manifested the slightest token of
fear.
Jowler was led by them among the bushes of the shrubbery, that he
might burst out upon them all at once; and this part of the
arrangement answered excellently well, only that Jowler arrived on the
prairie first instead of last; add to which, the bushes having so far
despoiled him of his grizzly hide, the white apron, as to have pulled
it off his back, he set to work mouthing and tearing at it, to get it
from his neck. At last, in spite of a few untoward and unbearlike
actions on the part of Jowler, the attack took place. With undaunted
resolution, Austin sustained Jowler's most furious charges; Brian
scarcely manifested less bravery; and little Basil, though he had
broken his lance, and twice fallen to the earth, made a desperate and
successful attack on his fearful antagonist, and caught him fast by
the tail. It was on the whole a capital adventure; for though they
could not with truth say that they had killed the bear, neither could
the bear say that he had killed them.
The bear hunt being at an end, they set off for the cottage; for the
hunter had promised to describe to them some of the games of the
Indian tribes, and he was soon engaged in giving them an account of
the ball-play of the Choctaws. "At the Choctaw ball-play thousands of
spectators attend, and sometimes a thousand young men are engaged in
the game."
_Hunter._ It is played in the open prairie, and the players have no
clothes on but their trowsers, a beautiful belt formed of beads, a
mane of dyed horse-hair of different colours, and a tail sticking out
from behind like the tail of a horse; this last is either formed of
white horse-hair or of quills.
_Brian._ And how do they play?
_Hunter._ Every man has two sticks, with a kind of hoop at the end,
webbed across, and with these they catch and strike the ball. The goal
on each side, consisting of two upright posts and a pole across the
top, is set up twenty-five feet high; these goals are from forty to
fifty rods apart. Every time either party can strike the ball through
their goal, one is reckoned, and a hundred is the game.
_Basil._ What a scuffle there must be among so many of them!
_Hunter._ When every thing is ready for the game to begin, a gun is
fired; and some old men, who are to be the judges, fling up the ball
in the middle, half-way between the two goals.
_Brian._ Now for the struggle.
_Hunter._ One party being painted white, every man knows his opponent.
No sooner is the ball in the air, than a rush takes place. Every one
with his webbed stick raised above his head; no one is allowed to
strike or to touch the ball with his hands. They cry out aloud at the
very top of their voices, rush on, leap up to strike the ball, and do
all they can to help their own side and hinder their opponents. They
leap over each other, dart between their rivals' legs, trip them up,
throw them down, grapple with two or three at a time, and often fall
to fisticuffs in right earnest. There they are, in the midst of clouds
of dust, running, striking and struggling with all their might; so
that, what with the rattle of the sticks, the cries, the wrestling,
the bloody noses, the bruised shins, the dust, uproar and confusion,
such a scene of excitement is hardly to be equalled by any other game
in the world.
_Brian._ How long does the game last?
_Hunter._ It begins about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and
sometimes is scarcely finished by sunset. A minute's rest is allowed
every time the ball is urged beyond the goal, and then the game goes
on again till it is finished. There is another ball-play somewhat
resembling this, which is played by the women of the Prairie du Chien,
while the men watch the progress of the game, or lounge on the ground,
laughing at them.
_Austin._ Do they ever run races?
_Hunter._ Yes, and very expert they are. Many of the tribes are
extravagantly fond of horses. You see an Indian, with his shield and
quiver, his ornamented shirt, leggins, and mocassins; his long hair
flowing behind him, or his head-dress of the war-eagle tailing
gracefully nearly to his heels; his lance in his hand; and his dress
ornamented with ermine, shells, porcupine quills and a profusion of
scalp-locks; but you see him out of character. He should spring on a
horse wild as the winds; and then, as he brandished his lance, with
his pendent plumes, and hair and scalp-locks waving in the breeze, you
see him in his proper element. Horse-racing among the Indians is an
exciting scene. The cruel custom, of urging useful and noble animals
beyond their strength, is much the same in savage as in civilized
life; but the scene is oftentimes more wild, strange, and picturesque
than you can imagine.
_Austin._ Ay, I remember that the Camanchees are capital riders. I was
a Camanchee in our buffalo hunt. Brian, you have not forgotten that?
_Brian._ But you had no horse to ride. I was a Sioux; and the Sioux
are capital riders too.
_Basil._ And so are the Pawnees, I was a Pawnee in the buffalo hunt.
_Hunter._ It was told me that the Camanchees--and, indeed, some of
the Pawnees also--were able, while riding a horse at full gallop, to
lie along on one side of him, with an arm in a sling from the horse's
neck, and one heel over the horse's back; and that, while the body was
thus screened from an enemy, they could use their lances with effect,
and throw their arrows with deadly aim. The Camanchees are so much on
their horses, that they never seem at their ease except when they are
flying across the prairie on horseback.
_Austin._ It would be worth going to the prairies, if it were only to
see the Camanchees ride.
_Hunter._ Besides horse-races, the Indians have foot-races and
canoe-races and wrestling. The Indians are also very fond of archery,
in which, using their bows and also arrows so much as they do, it is
no wonder they are very skilful. The game of the arrow is a very
favourite amusement with them. It is played on the open prairie. There
is no target set up to shoot at, as there is generally; but every
archer sends his first arrow as high as he can into the air.
_Austin._ Ay, I see! He who shoots the highest in the air is the
winner.
_Hunter._ Not exactly so. It is not he who shoots highest that is the
victor; but he who can get the greatest number of arrows into the air
at the same time. Picture to yourselves a hundred well-made, active
young men, on the open prairie, each carrying a bow, with eight or ten
arrows, in his left hand. He sends an arrow into the air with all his
strength, and then, instantly, with a rapidity that is truly
surprising, shoots arrow after arrow upwards, so that, before the
first arrow has reached the ground, half a dozen others have mounted
into the air. Often have I seen seven or eight shafts from the same
bow in the air at once.
_Austin._ Brian, we will try what we can do to-morrow; but we shall
never have so many as seven or eight up at once.
_Hunter._ The Indians are famous swimmers, and, indeed, if they were
not, it would often go hard with them. They are taught when very young
to make their way through the water, and though they do it usually in
a manner different from that of white men, I hardly think many white
men would equal them, either as to their speed, or the length of time
they will continue in the water.
_Austin._ But how do they swim, if their way is different from ours? I
can swim a little, and I should like to learn their way, if it is the
best.
_Hunter._ I am not quite prepared to say that; for, though red men are
more expert swimmers than white men, that may be owing to their being
more frequently in the water. They fish a great deal in the lakes; and
they have often to cross brooks and rivers in too much haste to allow
them to get into a canoe. A squaw thinks but very little of plunging
into a rolling river with a child on her back; for the women swim
nearly or quite as well as the men.
_Austin._ But you did not tell us wherein their way of swimming is
different from ours.
_Hunter._ Whites swim by striking out their legs and both arms at the
same time, keeping their breasts straight against the water; but the
Indian strikes out with one arm only, turning himself on his side
every stroke, first on one side and then on the other, so that,
instead of his broad chest breasting the water in front, he cuts
through it sideways, finding less resistance in that way than the
other. Much may be said in favour of both these modes. The Indian mode
requires more activity and skill, while the other depends more on the
strength of the arms, a point in which they far surpass the Indian,
who has had little exercise of the arms, and consequently but
comparatively little strength in those limbs. I always considered
myself to be a good swimmer, but I was no match for the Indians. I
shall not soon forget a prank that was once played me on the Knife
River, by some of the Minatarees; it convinced me of their adroitness
in the water.
_Basil._ What was it? Did they dip your head under the water?
_Hunter._ No; you shall hear. I was crossing the river in a bull-boat,
which is nothing more than a tub, made of buffalo's skin, stretched on
a framework of willow boughs. The tub was just large enough to hold me
and the few things which I had with me; when suddenly a group of young
swimmers, most of them mere children, surrounded me, and began
playfully to turn my tub round and round in the stream. Not being
prepared to swim, on account of my dress, I began to manifest some
fear lest my poor tub should be overturned; but the more fearful I
was, the better pleased were my mirthful tormentors.
_Austin._ Ah! I can see it spinning round like a peg-top, in the
middle of the river.
_Brian._ And did they upset the tub?
_Hunter._ No. After amusing themselves for some time at my expense,
now and then diving under the tub, and then pulling down the edge of
it level with the water, on receiving a few beads, or other trifles
which I happened to have with me, they drew me and my bull-boat to the
shore in safety. They were beautiful swimmers, and, as I told you, I
shall not soon forget them.
The dances among the Indians are very numerous; some of them are
lively enough, while others are very grave; and, then, most of the
tribes are fond of relating adventures.
There are the buffalo dance, the bear dance, the dog dance and the
eagle dance. And then there are the ball-play dance, the green corn
dance, the beggars' dance, the slave dance, the snow-shoe dance, and
the straw dance; and, besides these, there are the discovery dance,
the brave dance, the war dance, the scalp dance, the pipe-of-peace
dance, and many others that I do not at this moment remember.
_Brian._ You must please to tell us about them all.
_Austin._ But not all at once, or else we shall have too short an
account. Suppose you tell us of two or three of them now.
_Hunter._ To describe every dance at length would be tiresome, as
many of them have the same character. It will be better to confine
ourselves to a few of the principal dances. I have known a buffalo
dance continue for a fortnight or longer, day and night, without
intermission. When I was among the Mandans, every Indian had a buffalo
mask ready to put on whenever he required it. It was composed of the
skin of a buffalo's head, with the horns on it; a long, thin strip of
the buffalo's hide, with the tail at the end of it, hanging down from
the back of the mask.
_Austin._ What figures they would look with their masks on! Did you
say that they kept up the dance day and night?
_Hunter._ Yes. The Mandans were strong in their village, but
comparatively weak whenever they left it, for then they were soon in
the neighbourhood of their powerful enemies. This being the case, when
the buffaloes of the prairie wandered far away from them, they were at
times half starved. The buffalo dance was to make buffaloes come back
again to the prairies near them.
_Brian._ But how could they bring them back again?
_Hunter._ The buffalo dance was a kind of homage paid to the Great
Spirit, that he might take pity on them, and send them supplies. The
dancers assembled in the middle of the village, each wearing his mask,
with its horns and long tail, and carrying in his hand a lance, or a
bow and arrows. The dance began, by about a dozen of them thus
attired, starting, hopping, jumping and creeping in all manner of
strange, uncouth forms; singing, yelping, and making odd sounds of
every description, while others were shaking rattles and beating drums
with all their might; the drums, the rattles, the yelling, the
frightful din, with the uncouth antics of the dancers, altogether
presented such a scene, that, were you once to be present at a buffalo
dance, you would talk of it long after, and would not forget it all
the days of your lives.
_Basil._ And do they keep that up for a fortnight?
_Hunter._ Sometimes much longer, for they never give over dancing till
the buffaloes come. Every dancer, when he is tired, (and this he makes
known by crouching down quite low,) is shot with blunt arrows, and
dragged away, when his place is supplied by another. While the dance
is going on, scouts are sent out to look for buffaloes, and as soon as
they are found, a shout of thanksgiving is raised to the Great Spirit,
to the medicine man, and to the dancers, and preparation is made for a
buffalo hunt. After this, a great feast takes place; all their
sufferings from scarcity are forgotten, and they are as prodigal, and
indeed wasteful, of their buffalo meat, as if they had never known the
want of it.
_Austin._ Well, I should like to see the buffalo dance. Could not we
manage one on the lawn, Brian?
_Brian._ But where are we to get the buffalo masks from? The buffalo
hunt did very well, but I hardly think we could manage the dance
Please to tell us of the bear dance.
_Hunter._ I think it will be better to tell you about that, and other
dances, the next time you visit me; for I want to read to you a short
account, which I have here, of a poor Indian woman of the Dog-ribbed
tribe. I have not said much of Indian women, and I want you to feel
kindly towards them. It was Hearne, who went with a party from
Hudson's Bay to the Northern Ocean, many years ago, who fell in with
the poor woman.
_Basil._ Oh, yes; let us hear all about her; and you can tell us of
the dances when we come again.
_Hunter._ Now, then, I will begin. One day in January, when they were
hunting, they saw the track of a strange snow-shoe, which they
followed, and at a considerable distance came to a little hut, where
they discovered a young woman sitting alone. On examination, she
proved to be one of the Dog-ribbed Indians, who had been taken
prisoner by another tribe, in the summer of 1770; and, in the
following summer, when the Indians that took her prisoner were near
this place, she had escaped from them, intending to return to her own
country. But the distance being so great, and having, after she was
taken prisoner, been carried in a canoe the whole way, the turnings
and windings of the rivers and lakes were so numerous that she forgot
the track; so she built the hut in which she was found, to protect her
from the weather during the winter, and here she had resided from the
first setting-in of the fall.
_Brian._ What, all by herself! How lonely she must have been!
_Hunter._ From her account of the moons passed since her escape, it
appeared that she had been nearly seven months without seeing a human
face; during all which time she had supplied herself very well, by
snaring partridges, rabbits and squirrels: she had also killed two or
three beavers, and some porcupines. She did not seem to have been in
want, and had a small stock of provisions by her when she was
discovered. She was in good health and condition, and one of the
finest of Indian women.
_Austin._ I should have been afraid that other Indians would have come
and killed her.
_Hunter._ The methods practised by this poor creature to procure a
livelihood were truly admirable, and furnish proof that necessity is
indeed the mother of invention. When the few deer sinews, that she had
an opportunity of taking with her, were expended, in making snares and
sewing her clothing, she had nothing to supply their place but the
sinews of the rabbits' legs and feet. These she twisted together for
that purpose with great dexterity and success. The animals which she
caught in those snares, not only furnished her with a comfortable
subsistence, but of the skins she made a suit of neat and warm
clothing for the winter. It is scarcely possible to conceive that a
person in her forlorn situation could be so composed as to be capable
of contriving and executing any thing that was not absolutely
necessary to her existence; but there was sufficient proof that she
had extended her care much farther, as all her clothing, besides being
calculated for real service, showed great taste, and exhibited no
little variety of ornament. The materials, though rude, were very
curiously wrought, and so judiciously placed, as to make the whole of
her garb have a very pleasant, though rather romantic appearance.
_Brian._ Poor woman! I should like to have seen her in the hut of her
own building, and the clothes of her own making.
_Hunter._ Her leisure hours from hunting had been employed in twisting
the inner rind or bark of willows into small lines, like net-twine, of
which she had some hundred fathoms by her. With these she intended to
make a fishing-net, as soon as the spring advanced. It is of the inner
bark of the willows, twisted in this manner, that the Dog-ribbed
Indians make their fishing-nets; and they are much preferable to those
made by the Northern Indians.
Five or six inches of an iron hoop, made into a knife, and the shank
of an arrow-head of iron, which served her as an awl, were all the
metals this poor woman had with her when she escaped; and with these
implements she had made herself complete snow-shoes, and several other
useful articles.
_Austin._ Capital! Why, she seems able to do every thing.
_Hunter._ Her method of making a fire was equally singular and
curious, having no other materials for that purpose than two hard
stones. These, by long friction and hard knocking, produced a few
sparks, which at length communicated to some touch-wood. But as this
method was attended with great trouble, and not always successful, she
did not suffer her fire to go out all the winter.
[Illustration: Indian Canoes.]
[Illustration: _c_, drum. _d, d_, rattles. _e_, drum. _f_, mystery
whistle. _g_, deer-skin flute.]