I had but one horse, and did not care to wear him out by chasing
around over the prairie, preferring to save him for some great effort.
We were traveling along a smooth divide between two sets of ravines,
which ran off, one to the east and the other to the west. _Pi´ta
Le-shar_ had just informed me by signs that we should make camp about
two miles further on, by a stream whose course we could trace from
where we then were. Suddenly, without the slightest warning, the huge
dark bodies of half a dozen buffalo sprang into view, rising out of a
ravine on our left not a hundred yards distant. When they saw the
multitude before them, they stopped and stared at us.
They were too close for me to resist the temptation to pursue. As I
lifted the reins from my pony's neck and bent forward, the little
animal sprang into a sharp gallop toward the game, and as he did so I
saw half a dozen Indians shoot out from the column and follow me. The
buffalo wheeled, and in an instant were out of sight, but when I
reached the edge of the bank down which they had plunged, I could see
through the cloud of dust, which they left behind them, their uncouth
forms dashing down the ravine. My nimble pony, as eager for the race
as his rider, hurled himself down the steep pitch, and sped along the
narrow broken bed of the gully. I could feel that sometimes he would
lengthen his stride to leap wide ditches, where the water from some
side ravine had cut away the ground, but I never knew of these until
they were passed. My eyes were fixed on the fleeing herd; my ears were
intent on the pursuing horsemen. Close behind me I could hear the
quick pounding of many hoofs, and could feel that one of the horses,
nearer than the rest, was steadily drawing up to me--but I was gaining
on the buffalo. Already the confused rumble of their hoof-beats almost
drowned those of the horses behind me, and the air was full of the
dust and small pebbles thrown up by their hurrying feet. But they were
still ahead of me, and the gulch was so narrow that I could not shoot.
The leading horseman drew nearer and nearer, and was now almost at my
side. I could see the lean head and long, slim neck of his pony under
my right arm, and could hear the rider speak to his horse and urge him
forward in the race. My horse did his best, but the other had the most
speed. He shot by me, and a moment later was alongside the last
buffalo.
As he passed me the young Indian made a laughing gesture of triumph,
slipped an arrow on his bowstring, and drew it to its head; but just
as he was about to let it fly, his horse, which was but a colt, took
fright at the huge animal which it had overtaken, and shied violently
to the right, almost unseating its rider. At the same moment the
buffalo swerved a little to the left, and thus lost a few feet. Truly,
the race is not always to the swift. As I passed the Indian, I could
not restrain a little whoop of satisfaction, and then swinging my
rifle around, I fired. The buffalo fell in its stride, tossing up a
mighty cloud of the soft yellow earth, and my pony ran by him fifty
yards before he could be checked. Then I turned and rode back to look
at the game. The other Indians had passed me like a whirlwind, and,
close at the heels of the herd, had swept around a point of bluff and
out of sight. Only my rival remained, and he was excitedly arguing
with his horse. The logic of a whip-handle, applied with vigor about
the creature's ears, convinced it that it must approach the dead
buffalo; and then the rider dismounting, and passing his lariat about
the animal's horns, drew the pony's head to within a few feet of the
terrifying mass, and fastened the rope. When he had accomplished this,
he grinned pleasantly at me, and I responded in kind, and in dumb
show transferred to him all my right and title in the dead buffalo. At
this he smiled still more cheerfully, and set to work "butchering."
The animal was a superb specimen, just entering his prime, and was
fat, round and sleek. His horns were symmetrically curved and
beautifully polished. Not a scratch marred their shining surfaces, nor
a splinter was frayed from their sharp points. The sweeping black
beard was long and full, and the thick curls upon his hump and massive
shoulders were soft and deep, while the short hair of his sides and
hips was smooth as the coat of a horse. His size was enormous. It
seemed that he would have turned the scale at quite two thousand
pounds. Certainly his weight exceeded that of both the fifteen-hand
ponies that stood beside him.
A few moments later, I was again in the saddle, and riding on along
the course taken by the remaining buffalo, for I was anxious to see
what had become of them. On rounding the point of the bluff, where I
had last seen them, my curiosity was satisfied. The valley here
widened out until it was perhaps sixty yards across, and on either
side rose vertical bluffs of yellow chalk to a height of forty feet.
Scattered about over the little plain, lay half a dozen buffalo, over
each of which bent one or two Indians busily plying the knife. At the
foot of the bluff at one side of the valley stood four or five others,
looking at a cow, perched on a narrow shelf ten feet below the top. I
shall never understand how that animal reached the position it
occupied. There was evidently no way of getting to it except by
jumping up from below, which was obviously impossible--or down from
above, which seemed out of the question. The shelf was so short that
the animal could move neither backward nor forward, and was just wide
enough for it to stand on. As I rode up and joined the little group
below it, the head and shoulders of a middle-aged Indian appeared over
the top of the bluff, above the cow. He lay down flat on his breast,
and holding in both hands an old-fashioned muzzle-loading pistol,
attempted to shoot the cow from above, but his old arm would not go
off. He snapped it half a dozen times, and then, discouraged, called
out something to us below. One of the boys turned to me, and said very
slowly and distinctly, "He say, you shoot." I therefore dismounted,
and fired at the cow, which responded by shaking her head angrily, and
whisking her short tail. Another call came from the old fellow on top
of the bluff, and the young man said to me, "He say, you hit her;
right spot." A moment later, the cow bent forward and fell on her
knees, and the Indian above dropped down on her back.
Turning my horse's head in the direction from which I had come, I rode
up through a side ravine on to the high prairie. A mile away I could
see the column of marching Indians, plodding along at their old slow
pace. Here and there, over the rolling hills, dark forms were visible,
some of them in rapid motion, others apparently stationary. Often it
was impossible to determine whether these figures were horsemen or
buffalo, but sometimes, far away, I could see a mimic chase in which
pursuer and pursued appeared no larger than ants.
As I came up with the Indians, they were just descending into the
stream bottom, where camp was to be made. The small boys had, as
usual, dispersed themselves over the valley and among the underbrush.
Many of the squaws, leaving the ponies and packs to their sister-wives
or children, were hurrying up or down the stream to gather wood.
Already the leading ponies were being relieved of their loads.
Suddenly, from the mouth of a little ravine coming down into the
stream bottom, rose a chorus of shrill yelps and shrieks from childish
throats, and a gang of wild turkeys were seen, running rapidly through
the high grass toward the hills. A moment later, with a loud
_quit-quit_ of alarm, they took wing, but not before several of their
number had fallen before the missiles of the boys. Most of them went
up or down the creek, but one inexperienced bird took its course
directly over our heads.
Those who have seen the Indian only on dress parade, talk of his
stolidity, impassiveness, and his marvelous control over his
countenance and his emotions. This demeanor he can and does assume,
and when he is with white men, or among strangers, he is usually all
that he has been pictured; but take him by himself, and he expresses
his feelings with as little restraint as a child. So it was now. No
grave chief, nor battle-scarred warrior, nor mighty worker of
_ti-war´-uks-ti_ (magic) was too dignified to express his interest at
the appearance of this great bird sailing laboriously along, thirty or
forty feet above him. It was as if the turkey had flown over a great
company of schoolboys, and the utter abandonment of the excited
multitude, the entire absence of restraint, the perfect naturalness of
the expression of feeling, had in them something very delightful and
infectious. Every Indian, who held in his hand anything that was light
enough to throw, hurled it at the bird, and a cloud of whips, sticks,
hatchets, fleshers, and arrows, rose to meet it as it passed along.
One missile knocked from its tail a few long feathers, which drifted
slowly down on the heads of the people. It kept on, but before it had
passed beyond the long line of Indians extending back over the plain,
its strength became exhausted, it came to the ground, and was at once
dispatched by those nearest to it.
Almost before the turkey's fate had been decided, many of the lodges
had been pitched, and now the slender gray columns from a hundred
camp-fires began to climb up through the still air toward the blue
above. The women were hard at work cooking, or spreading out freshly
killed robes, or putting up drying scaffolds, while the men lounged in
the shade and smoked or chatted. Our wagon was halted at one side of
the camp, and the tired horses and mules stripped of saddles and
harness, and picketed near at hand. The Indian pack ponies were
collected and driven off on the upland in charge of several boys.
We had invitations to eat meat at several lodges that day. Usually we
did not accept these freely proffered hospitalities, because we had no
means of returning them, but one of these invitations came from a
particular friend, and to-day we broke through our rule. We feasted on
roast ribs, _ka´wis_, and dried meat, and really had a delightful
time. It was about three o'clock when we finished the meal, and we
were lounging about the lodge, smoking and chatting, in lazy
after-dinner fashion, when we were startled by a series of yells and
shouts, among which I distinguished the words "_Cha´-ra-rat
wa-ta´_--The Sioux are coming." Our Indian companions snatched up
their arms, and rushed out of the lodge, and we were not slow in
following. "_Sûks-e-kitta-wit wïs-kûts_--Get on your horses quick,"
shouted our host. The camp was in a state of wild excitement. Naked
men were running to their horses, and jerking their lariats from the
picket pins, sprang on their backs and rode hard for the hills; while
women and boys rushed about, catching horses, and bringing them in
among the lodges, where they were securely fastened. Less than a mile
away, we saw the horse herd dashing along at top speed, and a little
to one side of it a horseman riding in circles, and waving his
blanket before him. It was evident that the Sioux were trying to run
off the herd. We ran as hard as we could to the wagon, caught up
rifles and cartridge belts, and buckling on the latter as we ran, kept
on to the horses. There was no time to saddle up. We looped the ropes
around their jaws, sprang on their naked backs, and were off. As we
rode up on the prairie, the herd of ponies thundered by, and swept
down the bluffs to the camp. The rolling expanse before us was dotted
with Indians, each one urging forward his horse to its utmost speed.
Many of them were already a long way in advance, and were passing over
the furthest high bluff, which seemed to rise up and meet the sky.
Hard as we might push our ponies, there was little hope that we would
be in time to have any hand in the encounter--if one took
place--between the Pawnees and their hereditary foes.
We kept on until we reached the crest of the high bluff. From here we
could see far off over the plain, dozens of black dots strung out
after one another. Nearer at hand, other Indians, whose steeds, like
ours, had proved too slow for the swift pursuit, were riding back
toward us, showing in their faces the disappointment which they felt
at being left behind. With these we turned about, and rode toward the
camp. Among them was one of the herd boys, for the moment a hero, who
had to repeat his story again and again. He had been sitting on top of
a hill, not far from the horses, when he discovered several Sioux
stealing toward them through a ravine. Signaling his comrades, they
succeeded in getting the herd in motion before the robbers had
approached very close to them. Eight of the slowest horses had dropped
behind during the flight, and had no doubt fallen into the hands of
the enemy.
One by one, the Indians came straggling back to camp during the
afternoon and evening, but it was not until late that night that the
main body of the pursuers came in. They had ten extra horses, two of
which they had taken in turn from the Sioux. They had no scalps,
however, for they had been unable to overtake the enemy.
Long we sat that night by the fire in _Pi´ta Le-shar's_ lodge, talking
over the exciting event of the afternoon; and as we rose to go to our
wagons, and said good night, the old man, who had been silently gazing
into the coals for some time, looked up at me and smiled, saying,
"_Wa-ti-hes ti-kôt-it ti-ra-hah_--To-morrow we will kill buffalo."
When we turned out of our blankets the next morning, a heavy mist
hung over the prairie. This was unfortunate, for so long as the fog
lasted it would be impossible for the scouts to see far enough to
discover the buffalo. The first few hours of the march were
uneventful. Once or twice the huge bodies of a small band of buffalo
loomed up through the white mist about us, their size and shape
greatly exaggerated and distorted by its deceptive effect. As the sun
climbed toward the zenith, the air grew brighter, and by mid-day the
fog had risen from the ground, and though still clinging in white
cottony wreaths about the tops of the higher bluffs near us, we now
could see for quite a long distance over the prairie. A little later
the sun burst forth, and the sky became clear. Soon after noon we went
into camp.
We had but just begun our dinner, when a runner was seen coming at
full gallop down the bluffs. It was one of the scouts. He dashed
through the village, and did not check his pony's speed until he had
reached old _Pi´ta Le-shar's_ lodge. Here he stopped, and bending from
his horse spoke a few words very earnestly, gesticulating and pointing
back over the prairie in the direction whence he had come. As he rode
on and past us, he called out, "_Te-co´di tüt-tu-ta-rik ti-ra-hah_--I
saw many buffalo," and we shouted back to him, "_Tû-ra-heh_--It is
good."
At once the women began to take down the lodges and pack the ponies.
Buffalo had been discovered about fifteen miles to the southwest, and
orders had been issued to move the village to the creek on which they
were feeding, while the men should go on at once and make the
surround. Our teamster, to whom the Indians had already, from his
occupation, given the name "Jackass Chief," was directed to move with
the camp; and leaving everything save guns and ammunition belts in the
wagons, we joined the crowd of men who were riding out of the village.
The scene that we now beheld was such as might have been witnessed
here a hundred years ago. It is one that can never be seen again. Here
were eight hundred warriors, stark naked, and mounted on naked
animals. A strip of rawhide, or a lariat, knotted about the lower jaw,
was all their horses' furniture. Among all these men there was not a
gun nor a pistol, nor any indication that they had ever met with the
white men. For the moment they had put aside whatever they had learned
of civilization. Their bows and arrows they held in their hands.
Armed with these ancestral weapons, they had become once more the
simple children of the plains, about to slay the wild cattle that
_Ti-ra´-wa_ had given them for food. Here was barbarism pure and
simple. Here was nature.
A brief halt was made on the upper prairie, until all the riders had
come up, and then, at a moderate gallop, we set off. A few yards in
advance rode the twenty-four soldiers, at first curbing in their
spirited little steeds, till the horses' chins almost touched their
chests, and occasionally, by a simple motion of the hand, waving back
some impetuous boy, who pressed too close upon them. Many of the
Indians led a spare horse, still riding the one that had carried them
through the day. Often two men would be seen mounted on the same
animal, the one behind having the lariats of two led horses wound
about his arm. Here and there a man, with his arm over the horse's
neck, would run along on foot by the side of the animal which was to
serve him in the charge.
As we proceeded, the pace became gradually a little more rapid. The
horses went along easily and without effort. Each naked Indian seemed
a part of his steed, and rose and fell with it in the rhythmic swing
of its stride. The plain was peopled with Centaurs. Out over each
horse's croup floated the long black hair of his rider, spread out on
the wings of the breeze. Gradually the slow gallop became a fast one.
The flanks of the horses showed here and there patches of wet, which
glistened in the slanting rays of the westering sun. Eight, ten, a
dozen miles had been left behind us, and we were approaching the top
of a high bluff, when the signal was given to halt. In a moment every
man was off his horse, but not a pony of them all showed any sign of
distress, nor gave any evidence of the work he had done, except by his
wet flanks and his slightly accelerated breathing. Two or three of the
soldiers rode up nearly to the top of the hill, dismounted and then
peered over, and a moment later, at another signal, all mounted and
the swift gallop began again. Over the ridge we passed, down the
smooth slope, and across a wide level plain, where the prairie dogs
and the owls and the rattlesnakes had their home. Through the dog town
we hurried on thundering hoofs, no doubt amazing the dogs, and perhaps
even arousing some slight interest in the sluggish, stupid snakes. Bad
places these to ride through at such a pace, for a little carelessness
on your horse's part might cost him a broken leg and you an ugly
tumble. But no one took much thought of dog town or horse or possible
accident, for the minds of all were upon the next high ridge, behind
which we felt sure that the buffalo would be found.
And so it proved. Just before reaching it we were again halted. Two of
the soldiers reconnoitered, and then signaled that the buffalo were in
sight. The tired horses were now turned loose and the extra ones
mounted. As we rode slowly up over the ridge, we saw spread out before
us a wide valley black with buffalo. Two miles away, on the other
side, rose steep ragged bluffs, up which the clumsy buffalo would make
but slow progress, while the ponies could run there nearly as fast as
on level ground. It was the very place that would have been chosen for
a surround.
At least a thousand buffalo were lying down in the midst of this
amphitheater. Here and there, away from the main herd on the lower
hills, were old bulls, singly and by twos and threes, some of them
quietly chewing the cud, others sullenly pawing up the dust, or
grinding their battered horns into the yellow dirt of the hillsides.
Not the slightest notice was taken of us as we rode down the slope at
a pace that was almost a run, but still held in check by the
soldiers. The orders for the charge had not yet been given. Our line
was now much more extended than it had been; each man pressing as far
forward as he dared, and those on either flank being so far ahead of
the center that they were almost on a line with the soldiers. We had
covered perhaps half the distance between the hilltop and the buffalo,
when some of the outlying bulls seemed to observe us, and after
looking for a moment or two, these started in rapid flight. This
attracted the attention of the herd, and when we were yet half a mile
from them, they took the alarm. At once all were on their feet. For a
moment they gazed bewildered at the dark line that was sweeping toward
them, and then, down went every huge head and up flew every little
tail, and the herd was off in a headlong stampede for the opposite
hills. As they sprang to their feet, the oldest man of the soldiers,
who was riding in the center of the line, turned back toward us, and
uttered a shrill _Loo´-ah!_ It was the word we had waited for.
Like an arrow from a bow each horse darted forward. Now all restraint
was removed, and each man might do his best. What had been only a wild
gallop became a mad race. Each rider hoped to be the first to reach
the top of the opposite ridge, and to turn the buffalo back into the
valley, so that the surround might be completely successful. How swift
those little ponies were, and how admirably the Indians managed to get
out of them all their speed! I had not gone much more than half-way
across the valley when I saw the leading Indians pass the head of the
herd, and begin to turn the buffalo. This was the first object of the
chase, for in a stampede, the cows and young are always in the lead,
the bulls bringing up the rear. This position is not taken from
chivalric motives on the part of the males, but simply because they
cannot run so fast as their wives and children. Bulls are never killed
when cows and heifers can be had.
Back came the herd, and I soon found myself in the midst of a throng
of buffalo, horses and Indians. There was no yelling nor shouting on
the part of the men, but their stern set faces, and the fierce gleam
of their eyes, told of the fires of excitement that were burning
within them. Three or four times my rifle spoke out, and to some
purpose; and one shot, placed too far back, drew on me a quick savage
charge from a vicious young cow. My pony, while a good cattle horse,
was new at buffalo running, and his deliberation in the matter of
dodging caused me an anxious second or two, as I saw the cow's head
sweep close to his flank. It was far more interesting to watch the
scene than to take part in it, and I soon rode to a little knoll from
which I could overlook the whole plain. Many brown bodies lay
stretched upon the ground, and many more were dashing here and there,
closely attended by relentless pursuers. It was sad to see so much
death, but the people must have food, and none of this meat would be
wasted.
Before I turned my horse's head toward the camp, the broad disk of the
setting sun had rested on the tops of the western bluffs, and tipped
their crests with fire. His horizontal beams lit up with a picturesque
redness the dusky forms which moved about over the valley. Up the
ravines and over the hills were stringing long lines of squaws,
leading patient ponies, whose backs were piled high with dark dripping
meat, and with soft shaggy skins. Late into the night the work
continued and the loads kept coming into the camp. About the
flickering fires in and before the lodges there was feasting and
merriment. Marrow bones were tossed among the red embers, calf's head
was baked in the hot earth, fat ribs were roasted, _ka´wis_ boiled,
and _boudins_ eaten raw. With laughter and singing and story telling
and dance the night wore away.
Over the plain where the buffalo had fallen, the gray wolf was
prowling, and, with the coyote, the fox and the badger, tore at the
bones of the slain. When day came, the golden eagle and the buzzard
perched upon the naked red skeletons, and took their toll. And far
away to the southward, a few frightened buffalo, some of which had
arrows sticking in their sore sides, were cropping the short grass of
the prairie.
[Illustration: {GRAZING BUFFALO.}]
THE PAWNEE IN WAR.
I. ENEMIES AND METHODS OF WARFARE.
The Pawnees were a race of warriors. War was their pleasure and their
business. By war they gained credit, respect, fame. By war they
acquired wealth.
On their long journey from their primitive home in the far southwest,
they must have met, fought with and conquered many tribes. By
conquest--so says tradition--they obtained their first horses,
captured no one knows how long ago, in an attack on a Cheyenne
village.