JACK AMONG THE INDIANS.
OTHER BOOKS
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL.
JACK, THE YOUNG RANCHMAN, PRICE $1.25
PAWNEE HERO STORIES AND FOLK TALES, " 1.75
BLACKFOOT LODGE TALES, " 1.75
THE STORY OF THE INDIAN, " 1.50
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[Illustration: "JACK'S GUN WAS AT HIS SHOULDER, HE FIRED."--_Page 174_]
JACK AMONG THE INDIANS
OR
A BOY'S SUMMER ON THE BUFFALO PLAINS
BY
GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL
_Author of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," "Pawnee Hero Stories,"
"Blackfoot Lodge Tales," "The Story of the Indian,"
"The Indians of To-day," etc._
_Illustrated by_
EDWIN WILLARD DEMING
[Illustration: Logo]
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1900,
BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_My Dear Nephews and Nieces_:--
A long time ago, before any of you were born, great herds of buffalo fed
on the western plains, and wild Indians lived by hunting them. They ate
the flesh, wore the skins as clothing, slept in lodges made from the
hides, and fashioned tools from different parts of the buffalo's body.
There were few settlements, and as the buffalo roamed far and wide over
the treeless land, the Indians followed them; for then both were free.
Often a tribe was obliged to defend itself against the attacks of
enemies; and its young men often made war journeys into hostile country.
Though the daily life of the village was quiet and simple, yet sometimes
it was interrupted by most exciting incidents and adventures both of
hunting and fighting.
You listened attentively to the story of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," and
I hope that you will like to learn what Jack did the next season, when
he spent the summer with the buffalo eaters of the Northern Plains,
hunted their game, fought their enemies and lived their life.
Your affectionate UNCLE.
NEW YORK, SEPT. 1, 1900.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. BACK TO THE RANCH 1
II. A GLANCE BACKWARD 10
III. GETTING READY 17
IV. THE START 27
V. THE FIRST FRESH MEAT 37
VI. INDIANS OF OLD TIMES 47
VII. AN INDIAN WAR PARTY 57
VIII. DODGING INDIANS 70
IX. A BIGHORN IN CAMP 80
X. BUFFALO 93
XI. IN THE QUICKSANDS 104
XII. RESTING UP 115
XIII. TO FORT BENTON AND BEYOND 123
XIV. THE PIEGAN CAMP 133
XV. INDIANS AT HOME 145
XVI. AN INDIAN FRIEND 154
XVII. AN ENEMY IN CAMP 168
XVIII. THE COUNTING OF A COUP 179
XIX. A STRONG TEMPTATION 187
XX. WHITE WARRIOR, PIEGAN 198
XXI. THE CAMP MOVES 211
XXII. RUNNING BUFFALO 224
XXIII. THE WOUNDING OF FOX EYE 237
XXIV. A MYSTERY OF THE PRAIRIE 252
XXV. THE RELIC OF A FIGHT 265
XXVI. CLOSE QUARTERS WITH A BEAR 273
XXVII. BAPTISTE LAJEUNESSE 286
XXVIII. THE LOST GOLD 293
Jack Among the Indians.
CHAPTER I.
BACK TO THE RANCH.
The train rushed down the hill, with a long shrieking whistle, and then
began to go more and more slowly. Thomas had brushed Jack off and
thanked him for the coin that he put in his hand, and with the bag in
one hand and the stool in the other now went out onto the platform and
down the steps, Jack closely following. The train had almost stopped,
and Jack bent forward over the porter's head to try to see the platform
and to learn who was there to meet him. Suddenly he caught sight of
three horses grazing not far from the station, and he shouted, "Oh,
there's Pawnee! Look, Thomas! that's my riding-horse; that brown with
the saddle on."
"That's yours, is it, Master Jack? He's a good one; I can see that from
here. Are you going to ride out to the ranch?"
"I don't know," said Jack, "but we must be, I guess." And then, as he
jumped down off the step and saw Hugh walking toward him, he shouted,
"Hello, Hugh! I'm glad you've come for me. Isn't this bully? Good-bye,
Thomas." And, taking his bag, he started running to meet Hugh.
"Well," said the old man, as he gave him a cordial hand clasp, "I am
sure glad to see you, son. You got here all right, and on time. Didn't
have no accidents, I expect?"
"No," said Jack, "I'm all right. Isn't it great to be here again. I
don't know when I've been so glad before. I've been thinking about this
time ever since I left here last fall."
"Well," said Hugh, "we're all right glad to have you come back again. I
don't expect you've got any baggage except this, and there ain't nothing
to wait for; we might go over and put the bag on the pack-horse, and
start. I've been here ever since last night, and I've had enough of this
town."
"We're going to ride then, are we? That's better fun than going in the
wagon. I thought when I saw Pawnee that maybe that was the way you'd
fixed it."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you ain't done much riding since you left
here, and we've got a long way to go, and I thought maybe it would be a
good thing to begin breaking you in to the saddle right off. How does it
suit you?"
"Splendid," said Jack. "We can make better time on horseback than we
could in the wagon, and I'm mighty anxious to get to the ranch and see
everybody again. How's the elk?"
"He's all right; fat, and just about half shed off; he looks kind o'
ragged, but before long, when his old coat's gone, he'll be smooth as
silk and pretty as a picture."
"That's good, and how are the ducks?"
"They're all right, too," said Hugh, "barring a couple that got killed
only a few days ago. I don't rightly know what 'twas that killed 'em,
but I reckon 'twas a bob-cat. I seen the tracks of one in the brush the
last snow we had, and a few days afterward one of your ducks disappeared
one day while they was out down to the brook, and two days afterward the
old black tom-cat was gone, and two or three days afterward another
duck. I never did see anything of the ducks, but I found the bones of
the old tom-cat up in the brush a little while afterward, and there was
a lot of fur in his claws, and it was bob-cat hair. Since that second
duck got taken I haven't let them birds out except when I was there to
watch 'em, and keep my eye on 'em all the time."
"I'm sorry those ducks got killed," said Jack, "I was in hopes they'd
breed this year, and we'd have a lot of young ones."
"Well, maybe they will, but they've got to be watched, or else they've
got to have some sort of a pen built for 'em, because you see, they
can't fly, and it's mighty easy for anything to catch 'em."
By this time they were close to the horses, and Jack ran up to Pawnee
and began to talk to him and pat him. The horse put his ears forward and
arched his neck over Jack's shoulder, rubbing his head against him, as
if he really knew who it was and was glad to see the boy back again.
Meantime, Hugh was gathering up the ropes, and coiling them and putting
them on the saddles. He bridled his own horse, and Jack did the same for
Pawnee, both throwing down the reins; then the cinches of the pack
saddle were tightened, and the bag quickly lashed in place.
"You better put your gun in your scabbard, son, and put some cartridges
in your pocket; might be such a thing as you'd see something you'd want
to shoot." Jack did so, and then they mounted and started off at a good
lope over the prairie. Jack's heart was swelling with delight as he felt
the cool wind on his face, and smelt again the odour of the sage, and
saw the familiar birds rising from the ground and flying ahead, and
alighting again in the road before them.
"I saw quite a lot of antelope from the train as we came along this
morning, Hugh," he said. "I suppose there are plenty of 'em out at the
ranch."
"Oh, yes, there's plenty of antelope. That bunch that used to live over
in the pasture have just come back, and will be there all summer, I
expect."
"Have you killed much game this winter?" said Jack.
"Well, no," was the reply, "not what you'd call much. We've had fresh
meat right along, elk and blacktail and antelope. Early in the winter,
just before we had that big storm, I went over to Point-of-rocks and
killed three sheep; that's about the only thing out of ordinary that's
been done."
"Three sheep! I wish I could get a chance to kill one. I've never even
seen a sheep, and I want to get a shot at one most awfully."
"Well," said Hugh, "likely while we're up north we'll get a chance to;
there's plenty of sheep in the Missouri River bad lands, and in the
bluffs of the Yellowstone, and of course in the mountains. The Piegans,
you know, don't go much into the mountains, but they kill quite some
sheep in the bad lands, and on some of the buttes. Now, the Sweet Grass
Hills are a great place for sheep; we're likely after we get to the
Piegans to camp close to them, and maybe we can make a hunt up there for
two or three days. I ain't a mite afeared but what you'll have chances
at sheep before summer's over."
"Gracious! buffalo and sheep! That would be enough hunting for one
summer, I should think. You're sure that when we go north we'll have
plenty of buffalo hunting?"
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "there'll be buffalo a plenty long after you and
I are both dead."
By this time they had passed through the breaks and crossed the river,
and come up over the hill, so that they could see the great lone
mountain, where the road turned off to the right. "Oh, there's Bent Rock
Mountain! that looks good, don't it, with the gray rocks and the black
cedars scattered all over it. Now, there are sheep there, Hugh; don't
you ever hunt there?"
"No," said Hugh; "there's a little bunch of sheep there, but they're
mighty hard to get at, and I don't bother with 'em."
They rode on down the hill at a swinging canter, splashed through the
stream, turned to the right and went up by the mountain, past the place
where about a year before Jack had seen his first grizzly, and then
turning to the left, galloped along across the undulating sage-brush
prairie. The pack horse all the time was following close at their
heels; his load was light and he knew that he was going home, and
required no driving.
Suddenly, as they rode over the crest of one of the prairie swells,
which gave a little wider view than most of them, Jack saw quite close
to them a cow running hard, with head down and tongue out, and right at
her heels a big wolf, and a little behind that, another. Just as they
came in sight, the leading wolf sprang forward and caught the cow by the
flank, and though it seemed impossible that so small an animal should
throw one so large, the cow fell prone upon the prairie. While all this
was passing before Jack's eyes, Hugh's horse stopped, his rider swung
out of the saddle, his gun came to his shoulder, and as the smoke leaped
from it, the second wolf fell. Jack had not been long enough on the
prairie to act quite as quickly as Hugh; it took him a second or two to
drag his gun from its scabbard and to spring from his horse, but the
wolf that had pulled down the cow had not run more than a few yards
before he fired at it; it gave a dismal howl, but still kept on; he shot
again, and again the wolf yelled, but still it ran. It was almost on top
of the hill now, when Hugh fired, and it disappeared. They jumped into
their saddles and rode to the place, and found the wolf just kicking in
the death struggle.
"Well," said Hugh, "that's a good job, anyhow. There's been a heap o'
wolves round this winter, and I'm glad we got these two. I wish we'd
come a minute earlier, so's to have saved that cow."
"Do you think she's dead, Hugh?" said Jack.
"I expect so," said Hugh. "I've seen a heap o' cattle killed by just
one bite from a wolf; often it didn't seem if 'twas a bad bite either.
I've sometimes thought that maybe they was just scared to death. I
expect, though, we'll find that cow dead." By this time the wolf had
ceased to struggle, and Hugh, picking it up, threw it across his saddle,
and they walked back to the cow and the other wolf, which lay within
three feet of each other. As Hugh had thought, the cow was dead, though
the wound in her flank did not seem to be a severe one. Evidently she
had been chased for some distance, for on her neck and shoulders there
was froth from the mouth, showing that she had run a long way. Hugh
turned her over and looked at the brand on her side. "Well," he said,
"it's one of Powell's cows. The wolves do seem to pick out his cows, and
do him a heap o' harm. Nice cow, too; in good order. I hate to see this
beef go to waste. I believe I'll butcher her, so she won't spoil, and
maybe your uncle will want to send down a wagon to-morrow and bring the
meat into camp. While I'm doing that, do you expect you could skin one
of them wolves? I reckon you'd like to save them hides; they're in
pretty fair order, for they haven't begun to shed out much yet. While
you're doing it you might look and see where your bullets hit the wolf
you shot at. I expect I can tell you why he didn't fall right off when
you shot. You're out of practice, and you drawed your sight too coarse.
You hit him both times, but kind o' creased him instead of hitting him
where the life lay. You ain't forgot how to shoot, but you've got to
learn your gun over again."
While Hugh was opening the cow and removing the entrails, Jack took out
his pocket knife and began to skin the wolf. Luckily he had had his
knife sharpened just before he left home, and so he worked pretty fast,
and before Hugh had left the cow and begun to skin the other wolf, Jack
was half through with his. They finished skinning at about the same
time, and Hugh tied the two hides on the pack-horse; then he lit a pipe,
sat down and smoked for a while.
"I don't grudge the time we took to kill these wolves," he said.
"Killing wolves is part of the work on a ranch, just like taking calves
out of a snow-bank, or branding colts is. It's something that's got to
be did, and like all other work it takes time. Where did you find them
bullet holes of yours, son?"
"I found them just where you said they'd be, Hugh. One of them had just
cut the skin on the back, and the other went through just over the
shoulders, and nicked one of the shoulder-blades."
"That's what I thought," said Hugh; "you've got to fire a few shots and
learn over again just how to hold your gun, if you want to drive nails.
Now, let's go along. I'd like to get to the ranch as near supper time as
we can."
They mounted and rode on. The wind was now blowing so hard that,
although they rode side by side, they could not talk to each other
without shouting. The horses were fat and fresh, and mile after mile
disappeared swiftly under their ringing hoofs. Every few minutes Jack
saw some place that was familiar to him, and wanted to ask Hugh
something about it, but a few attempts convinced him that it was useless
to try to talk in the wind. Now and then a bunch of antelope were seen
off to one side, or a jack-rabbit jumped up from under a sage brush, and
raced off, or a single sage-hen rose from the ground and scaled off down
the wind. As they climbed more slowly the divide which led up to the
valley where the ranch was situated they passed through a village of
prairie dogs. These had not long since awakened from their winter sleep,
and were busy plucking the young grass, now just appearing above the
ground, and only those nearest the road paid any attention to the
horsemen. Now and then little bunches of horses were passed, still clad
in their winter coats, which hung down a hand's breadth below their
chins and necks and bellies. With them they could see now and then tiny
colts, which kept close to their mothers' sides, feeling that only there
were they out of danger. At the edge of the dog town a badger was seen,
nosing along through the sage brush, and Jack reached down his hand to
get his gun, but looking at Hugh saw him shake his head, and understood
that he did not wish to wait.
The sun had nearly reached the western mountains when they rode down
into the Swiftwater Valley, and though they galloped along at a good
pace, it was long after dark before the lights of the ranch house met
their eyes. A little later they halted before the barn.
"Now, son, you're here again, and this time I expect you don't need no
looking after. We'll unsaddle here; you hang your things up on the old
peg, and we'll leave the horses in the stalls to-night."
A few moments later, carrying their guns and Jack's bag, they stepped
into the kitchen of the ranch, and were warmly welcomed by all hands.