A tremendous storm, such as we had not yet experienced, kept us in camp
the next morning. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the
rain came down in torrents, compelling us to make trenches round our
huts. Even when doing this, we were nearly wet to the skin. Our fires
also were almost extinguished, though we contrived to keep them in by
heaping up fresh fuel every few minutes. It was truly a battle between
the flames and the rain, but the former would have been beaten without
our assistance. The same cause probably kept the Indians inside their
wigwams, for we saw nothing of them. We managed to cover up poor
Charley so that he did not suffer. In the afternoon, the rain cleared
off, and trusting to the professions of the Indians, Dick and I set off
to pay them a visit. For prudence, according to the custom we had
adopted, we wore our swords by our sides, at which, as they appeared
rather more for ornament than use, the Indians were not likely to take
offence. One of the Indians, who had come to our camp the previous
evening, was, we discovered, their chief, by name Ocuno, or the Yellow
Wolf. He received us with outstretched hands, appearing highly pleased
at our coming, and without hesitation introduced us to his principal
squaw, a very attractive young woman with a pleasing expression of
countenance, and much fairer than Indians in general, indeed we had no
doubt that she must have had a white father. She told us that she was
much attached to the whites, and had not it been her lot to become the
wife of Yellow Wolf, she would gladly have married a pale face. Dick
was so well satisfied, that he agreed to bring his young friend over to
their village the next morning, that he might be placed under her
charge.
The Yellow Wolf told us that he intended to start in search of buffalo
in a day or two, and that if we chose, we might accompany him, promising
that we should have half the animals slain; "for," as he observed, "he
and his people were more expert hunters, yet our firearms would make
amends for our want of skill."
After spending some time with our new friends, we returned to our own
camp. The offer of Yellow Wolf was accepted by all hands, and in the
morning we conveyed Charley on a litter to his lodge, the baggage mules
and spare horses being also moved forward to the neighbourhood of the
village. We found the Indians preparing to engage in a dance, which we
supposed was for our entertainment, but which we afterwards discovered,
was for the sake of inducing the Good Spirit to send herds of buffalo to
their neighbourhood.
As soon as Charley was comfortably placed inside his wigwam, and the
fair Manoa, the "Flower of the Prairies"--as her lord was wont to call
her--was examining his hurts, the Yellow Wolf desired us to be seated in
front of it. Scarcely had we taken our places, than from every hut
rushed forward some monstrous figures with buffalo heads, but the legs
of men and huge tails trailing behind, the whole of the party collecting
in an open space in front of us. They were about to begin, we were
told, their famous buffalo dance. First round and round they tramped
with measured steps, then they rushed against each other, then
separated, then again met. Some were overthrown, but quickly getting on
their feet, rejoined their companions. Now they bent down on all fours;
now one buffalo, seizing a bow, shot a blunt arrow at another. Some had
shields and spears; some, mounted on the backs of their companions,
charged at everyone they met; all the time the whole band were stamping,
bellowing, yelping, and making other terrific noises, while another
party were seated on the ground beating their drums, and shaking their
rattles, the dancers keeping time to the discordant music. It is
difficult to describe the feats of the different performers, for each
man appeared to dance until he could dance no more, except that when a
pretended buffalo was shot by a blunt arrow, he was dragged out, and
another immediately took his place. This amusement went on until we
were utterly weary of witnessing it, though at first it was amusing
enough. I then suggested to Yellow Wolf that he should order the
dancers to "knock off;" but he replied that the efficacy of the ceremony
depended upon its continuing until the buffalo should appear.
"But suppose they should not come for a whole moon, your braves will be
pretty well worn out by that time," I remarked.
"But they will come before then," he answered.
"So I should hope," I said, laughing.
At last a bevy of squaws placed on the ground, in front of the tent, an
abundant feast of various messes, of which our host invited us to
partake, suggesting that we should add a few articles from our own
stores, including a bottle of fire-water, "for which," he observed, "his
lips felt a peculiar longing."
We took the hint, but Dick ordered only a small bottle to be brought,
observing that we kept the firewater for sick men, or for such occasions
as the present, and that we could not venture to draw largely on our
store.
Unattractive as were the dishes the Redskin damsels offered us, they
were far more palatable than might have been expected.
As the Indians liked their own dishes best, and we preferred ours, we
did not trespass very largely on theirs. We found from the small amount
of meat in the village, that the inhabitants were more hard up for food
than we had supposed.
The buffalo dancers all the time continued their performance, being
evidently impressed with the belief that the more furiously they danced,
the sooner the buffaloes would make their appearance. Night brought no
cessation, one relay of performers relieving the other without
intermission; so that I was afraid poor Charley would have but little
chance of a sleep. He, however, when I paid him a visit before
retiring, assured me that he had got accustomed to the noise; and that
the Flower of the Prairies had taken such good care of him that he was
perfectly ready to remain where he was. Although we had every
confidence in the honesty of our new friends, we deemed it prudent to
keep a watch at night, both in camp and over the animals, for fear some
young brave might take it into his head to distinguish himself by
running off with a horse or two, as he would be sure to find a welcome
among any friendly tribe after the performance of such an act. I have
no doubt there are some noble Redskins fit to become heroes of romances;
but the greater part are unmitigated savages, with notions of right and
wrong very different from those of civilised people.
The next day we paid a visit to Yellow Wolf, when we found his people
still dancing with unabated vigour.
"The buffalo have not come yet!" I observed to him.
"Wait a bit, they come by-and-by," he replied. Dick suggested that we
should strike away westward in search of them, but Yellow Wolf replied
that it would be of no use, and that probably the buffalo would turn
back and take a different course, should the pale-faces pursue them.
Old Ben advised us not to act contrary to the chief's wishes, observing
that he undoubtedly had a very correct notion of when the buffalo would
appear, as he never allowed the dance to commence until he calculated
that the herd were not far off.
Wishing to cement our friendship with the chief we invited him and some
of his principal braves to our camp, where we provided a feast as
suitable to their tastes as we were capable of producing. They approved
of the boiled ham and pork as well as the corn cakes, sweetened with
sugar, which old Ben manufactured; but they hinted pretty strongly that
the stuff our flasks contained was more to their taste than anything
else we possessed. We took good care, however, not to give them enough
to make them drunk; but Armitage observed that we were doing them harm
by creating in them a taste for spirits, and that it would have been
wiser not to allow them from the first to know that we had any.
The feast was over, and our guests were smoking the tobacco with which
we provided them, puffing away with evident enjoyment, when a young
brave was seen galloping towards our camp at headlong speed. As he
approached, he cried out,--"The buffalo! the buffalo are coming!"
"I said so!" exclaimed Yellow Wolf, springing up and rushing towards his
horse. We all followed his example, leaving Pierre and the Indians in
charge of the camp.
Yellow Wolf and his followers directed their course towards their lodges
to obtain their bows and arrows; for, to show the confidence they placed
in us, they had come without them. As we came near, we saw, far to the
north and north-west, the whole ground covered with a dark mass of
shaggy monsters, tossing their heads and flourishing their tails, the
ground literally trembling beneath their feet as they dashed on towards
us. The course they were following would bring them directly down upon
the camp. We might as well have endeavoured to stop a cataract as to
have tried to turn them aside. Their sudden appearance caused the
greatest excitement and confusion in the camp. The buffalo dancers, who
had danced they were convinced to some purpose, having thrown off their
masquerading dresses, were rushing here and there to obtain their arms
and catch their horses. Before, however, the greater number were ready
for the encounter, the buffalo were in their midst; and, to the dismay
of the inmates, charged right through the camp, capsizing wigwams,
trampling over women and children, dashing through the fires, and
crushing pots and pans. Many of the brutes, however, paid dearly for
their exploit; as the hunters, with shouts and shrieks, followed them
up, shooting down some, spearing others, and ham-stringing the brutes
right and left, who were too much astonished and confused at the
unexpected reception they met with to escape. I made my way to the
chief's wigwam, which I was thankful to see still standing, and was just
in time to shoot a buffalo charging at it with a force which would have
upset a structure of ten times its stability. As it was, the animal
rolled over, close to the tent poles. It was the first buffalo I had
killed, and I was the prouder of the exploit as I had saved Charlie and
the Flower of the Prairies from injury. I saw the chief galloping after
another buffalo charging an old warrior fallen to the ground, and who
would, in another moment, have been transfixed by its horns, had not
Yellow Wolf stuck his spear behind its shoulder so powerful a blow that
the creature rolled over, not, however, without almost crushing the old
man's legs. The fierce onslaught made by the Indians on the herd at
length divided it, some of the animals going off to the south-east,
others to the south-west. Greatly to our satisfaction they then passed
by on either side of our camp, several of their number being brought
down by Ben Folkard's and Pierre's unerring rifles, three also being
killed by our Indian followers. We, as well as the Indians, however,
excited by the chase, still followed the buffaloes, although it seemed
to me that we had already as much meat as the people could possibly
consume.
Away we went, the Indians pursuing the cows, which they had singled out,
their flesh being of the most value, though they were much smaller than
the bulls. I confess, as they were all galloping along together, that I
could scarcely distinguish one from the other. I found myself at length
alone, pursuing part of the herd which had turned away eastward. I had
managed to knock over two animals, and having again loaded made chase
after a cow which had separated from her companions, I being determined
to shoot her and then return. For some time she gave me no chance, as,
unless I could obtain a broadside shot, there was no use in firing. My
horse was beginning to get blown, but I urged him on with whip and spur,
until at length I managed to get up to within a few paces, when rising
in my stirrups I fired down upon the animal. It seemed like the work of
a moment, scarcely had I pulled the trigger than down dropped the
buffalo, the bullet having broken her spine. So rapid was the pace of
my horse, that he was unable to stop himself. He made an attempt,
however, to spring over the buffalo, but his feet striking its body over
he rolled sending me with my gun still grasped in my hand, flying to the
opposite side, when down he came almost upon me. At first I was seized
with the dreadful idea that both my legs were broken, and I expected
that my horse in his struggles would crush me still further, but the
well-trained creature, recovering himself, rose to his feet without
trampling upon me. Fortunately my sword was not broken, nor thrown out
of the scabbard.
For some time I lay holding his bridle but unable to move. I was far
away from either of my companions and was much afraid that I should not
be discovered. The first thing I had to do was to try and get into my
saddle; but, should I fail, dreadful might be my fate. My horse might
perhaps make his way into camp, and by his appearance show that some
accident had happened to me. I had a pocketbook and tore out a leaf and
wrote--"Lying on the ground with both legs broken, to the eastward of
the camp," and signed it, "Tom Rushforth."
I endeavoured to reach one of my stirrups to which I intended to fasten
the paper and then to set my horse at liberty. Before doing so,
however, I thought I would examine my legs and ascertain if they were
really broken. On feeling the bones, to my infinite satisfaction I
could discover no fracture, though they pained me greatly. I
accordingly tried and succeeded in getting up; and, although I do not
think I could have walked a yard, I managed to scramble into my saddle
with my gun. I then, having thrown down a handkerchief to mark the cow
I had shot as my own put my horse's head, as I supposed, in the
direction of the camp.
I was anxious to get back as soon as possible, but the pain of riding
fast was greater than I could bear, and I was compelled to make my horse
walk at a pace not suited to his fancy.
I could still see the buffalo scampering over the prairie, moving off to
the southward, and I concluded that they would be miles away before the
end of the day. I looked round for any friends, but not a horseman
could I discover.
The weather had been bright during the early part of the day, but clouds
were now drifting rapidly over the sky, and I continued riding on
towards the north-west until the sun became totally obscured. I still
believed that I could direct my course right. To trot was unbearable,
but I thought that I might venture on a gallop; the movement, however,
caused me so much pain that I was compelled again to pull up. In rain
my eyes ranged over the wide extent of the prairie, in search of the
wigwams of our Indian friends. For some time I guided myself by the
wind, but that also shifted and fell light, so that I was unable to
steer by it. I could distinguish the trail of the buffalo, by the tall
grass which they had trampled down; but that did not serve to guide me,
for it seemed to bend in all directions, though I have no doubt it would
have served an Indian perfectly. I arrived at length at the unpleasant
conclusion, that I had lost myself; still, could I but get a gleam of
sunshine, or see the distant hills, I might, I hoped, ascertain what
direction to take.
Had I not been so severely injured, I should not have cared so much; for
having just before taken a good meal, I could have gone without food
until the following day. I felt sure that my friends would come to
search for me, but it might be long before I should be discovered, and
the pain I suffered warned me of the importance of getting into camp as
soon as possible.
My rifle was loaded, and I fired it off two or three times, hoping that
the sound might be heard. I listened eagerly expecting a reply. A
perfect silence, however, reigned over the vast plain. At length I
became seriously anxious about my safety. I was still convinced that I
was riding towards the west, and I pushed on. From the feeling in my
legs, I fancied they must have swelled to twice their natural size, but
on looking down they appeared as usual. The pain caused my spirits to
sink, and all sorts of gloomy thoughts passed through my mind. Again
and again I looked round. At length I saw in the far distance, an
object moving over the plain, which I at once conjectured was a
horseman, though I could only distinguish the upper part of his body. I
turned my horse's head towards him, and raised my rifle in the air,
hoping that he might perceive it. As I got nearer, I saw, by the plume
on his head, that he was an Indian, and I naturally concluded that he
was either Yellow Wolf or one of his braves, or perhaps one of our own
people. I was somewhat surprised, however, when instead of coming on
directly towards me, he turned to the right, and began to move on at a
gallop over the ground. I then perceived that his headdress was
different to that of my friends, and that he carried a long shield and
spear, as well as a bow and arrows. I had just reached a slight knoll,
on which I pulled up that I might the more carefully survey the
stranger. An attentive look at him convinced me that he was a
Coomanche, one of the same people who had before attacked us, so that I
knew I must treat him as an enemy rather than a friend. Should I let
him get near me, I felt pretty sure that, if he was a Coomanche, he
would play me some treacherous trick. I therefore unslung my rifle, and
in a loud voice shouted to him to keep his distance.
He heard me clearly enough, but instead of stopping galloping towards
me, he threw himself on the side of his horse, and, before I could cover
him with my rifle, I saw the head of an arrow projecting over his
saddle. To avoid it by retreating was impossible, so, bringing my rifle
up to my shoulder, I gave a sudden jerk to my rein, which made my horse
step back a few paces, and the arrow, aimed at my body, flew by in front
of his nose. I had refrained from firing. The Coomanche, for such I
concluded that he was, seeing that he was in my power--having shot
another arrow which in his flurry, he was prevented aiming truly--
galloped off to a distance.
I now shouted to him, threatening to kill his horse, and advising him to
take himself off. He seemed doubtful, apparently, what to do. He might
have hoped, that, should I execute my threat, he might still bring me
down with an arrow, and by mounting my steed make his escape; but he
must have been well aware there are many chances in warfare, and that I
might shoot him instead of his steed. He might have guessed, by my not
having fired, that I had my wits about me. I of course narrowly watched
his movements, and seeing him glance over his shoulder, the idea
occurred to me, that he was expecting others of his tribe to appear, in
which case I should have but little chance of escaping.
At length he decided how to act. Once more he made at me, shooting a
couple of arrows in rapid succession. One went through the sleeve of my
coat; another struck the saddle, narrowly missing my legs, but did not
pierce through the leather.
He might have half-a-dozen more arrows in his hand, and it was necessary
to be cautious. As he circled round, I kept turning so as always to
face him, when he was afraid of riding directly at me, for should he do
so, he would he knew inevitably expose himself, and I should scarcely
fail to miss him. His object was, I concluded, to keep me employed
until the arrival of his friends. It would be folly to do as he wished.
As long as I remained on the same spot, I could at any moment take a
steady aim at him. Though he was aware of this, he trusted to my not
firing, for fear of being unarmed should he charge me. At length he
came so near, that I resolved not to lose the opportunity of knocking
over his horse. I aimed just behind the animal's shoulder, and must
have shot it through the heart; for, giving one bound, it fell over
dead. The active Indian, however, in a moment extricating himself,
leapt to his feet, and came bounding towards me.
In a moment my trusty sword was out of its sheath, when, with a howl of
disappointed rage, the Coomanche, seeing it uplifted to cut him down,
turned tail and ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. I
immediately reloaded and should, I believe, have shot the Redskin also;
but I had no wish to take the poor wretch's life, though, for my own
safety, I determined to do so, should he again approach me. At that
moment, the sun coming out from behind a cloud, just above the horizon,
shone on a distant peak, which I had remarked from our camp. I had now
no doubt as to the direction I should take. In spite of the agony the
movement caused me, I put my horse into a gallop, leaving my late
antagonist to pursue his way unhindered, and steered my course towards
the north-west, where I hoped before long to discover my friends. The
sun, however, sunk before I had seen either them or the Indian wigwams.
Still the glow in the western sky guided me long after darkness had
crept over the open prairie. When that disappeared, I was again at a
loss how to keep a straight course. Throwing therefore the reins on my
horse's neck, I trusted to his instinct to lead me aright.
I had gone on for two hours in the darkness when, to my joy, I saw a
bright light ahead. It was that, I had little doubt, of our own camp
fire. I was not mistaken. In a short time Dick's cheery voice welcomed
me. He and my other companions had become anxious at my non-appearance.
I was almost falling from my horse, and could not have dismounted
without assistance. On telling them of my fight with the Coomanche,
Pierre immediately sent off to tell our Indian friends of my suspicions
that a party of their enemies were in the neighbourhood.