THE CAMP MOVES.
It was two or three days after the conclusion of the ceremonies of the
Medicine Lodge, when Jack, walking through the camp one morning, found
himself face to face with Hezekiah. The negro had discarded the feather
which he wore in his head when Jack had seen him last, and he was now
clad in leggings, a much worn cotton shirt and moccasins. He knew Jack
at once and came up to him, shaking his hand most cordially.
"Well," said he, "Master Jack, you got here all right, didn't you? Hope
you didn't have no trouble on your way up. Didn't get captured by nobody
else, did you?"
"No," said Jack, laughing, "we got pretty well scared after you left us,
and came near running onto two or three Indian camps, but we got around
them without being discovered and had no trouble at all. Hugh was
saying," he went on, "that you Piegans would be mighty sorry you hadn't
stayed with us, when we were travelling around among those camps, south
of the Yellowstone. We didn't want anything of the people, but Hugh said
that the war party would have given anything to have had such a chance
to take horses."
"Bad luck," said Hezekiah, "we didn't see no enemies, and didn't make
no war and just came trailing in yesterday afternoon not having done
nothing at all. I hear, though, that you done yourself mighty proud,
Master Jack. The Indians were telling me last night that you killed an
enemy that was trying to take horses from Fox Eye's camp, over to Grassy
Lakes, and that after you killed him you counted coup on him. That was
fine thing for you to have done, and all your friends are proud of you.
"I don't know whether you know it, Master Jack, but you've got lots of
friends in this camp; people here think a whole lot of you. First they
like you because you kinder belong to the old man, and then, because you
saved Little Plume's daughter from getting drownded, and now, because
you have shown that you're brave, even if you are so young and haven't
been long on the prairie."
"Well, Hezekiah, I am mighty glad to hear you say that. I expect anybody
is glad if people like him, I know I am. Everybody in the camp is always
kind and pleasant and smiling, they don't seem like the Indians I have
always read about. Those were always solemn and silent and gruff, and
didn't do anything but grunt; but those people here are just as pleasant
as they can be and always laughing and joking, and doing kind things; I
tell you they are as nice people as I ever want to be with."
"Oh yes, they're good people, Master Jack," said Hezekiah, "I like 'em
right well. Master Jack," he went on, "would you mind coming over to my
lodge? I'd like to have you see my wife and my babies. I've got a nice
family, sir! My wife, she is old Lone Person's girl; he is a chief of
one of the bands, you know; quite a great man."
"Why, sure, I'll go, Hezekiah," said Jack; and the two walked over to a
large lodge not far off.
Jack found Hezekiah's wife a neat pleasant-faced young woman, and the
lodge was kept in very good order. Three odd little children, perfect
negroes in appearance, were playing about close at hand, and a tiny baby
with great rolling eyes and tightly curling hair, was strapped to a
board and swinging to one of the lodge poles.
After some conversation, Hezekiah hinted somewhat diffidently, that he
would be glad if Jack would eat with them, and Jack was very ready to
accept the invitation, which seemed to please both Hezekiah and his
wife. Jack passed a good part of the afternoon in the lodge, and when at
last he left it, made up his mind that he would try to see something of
Hezekiah in the future.
One afternoon, not very long after the Medicine Lodge was over, Jack was
sitting in front of the lodge with Hugh, when he heard the distant voice
of the camp crier shouting out the news, as he rode about the circle of
the lodges. He listened for a while, and as the man drew nearer and the
sounds which he uttered grew more distinct, Jack turned to Hugh and
asked him what the old man was saying.
"Hold on a minute," said Hugh, "wait till he gets closer, I can't just
hear all he says, but it is something about moving the camp, and
buffalo. I guess likely they are going to start." Presently, he added,
"Yes, this is what he says: 'Listen, listen, everybody pay attention.
To-morrow the camp will move. All the lodges must be taken down early.
Everybody must pack up soon after sunrise. The camp will move toward the
Sweet Grass Hills. You men, get your horses close. You women, pack up
your things to-night, the chiefs have ordered to start early. Listen,
listen, everybody pay attention.'"
"Well," said Jack, "I am glad they are going. We have been here a long
time now, and I'll be glad to get out on the prairie again, and glad to
see the Indians chase buffalo. They'll do that, won't they, Hugh, when
they get into the buffalo country?"
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "that's the only way they kill buffalo, except
now and then when they find one or two old bulls off by themselves, when
they sometimes creep up to one, and kill him that way; but whenever they
want to make a big killing, to get meat and lodge skins for everybody,
then they chase 'em."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "how shall we do when the camp moves? Just pack
our animals and travel along with them?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "I guess we may as well pack our animals, and then
we'll let the old man's women drive them. They'd be glad to pack them
too, but I'm afraid if they did, that first thing we knew, some of them
horses would get a sore back, and I don't want that to happen. You see,
likely as not, we've got to travel down South with these horses again,
and I mean to keep them in good order, so that they'll serve us while
going, just as they did when we came up here."
"Why," said Jack, "it doesn't seem to me as if we ought to let the
women pack the horses, that's man's work. Ain't it, Hugh?"
"No," said Hugh, "not among Indians. Man's work, in an Indian camp, is
to kill meat for food, and skins for clothing, and to go to war, so's to
get rich and to make people think well of himself and his family, and to
defend the camp. The woman's work is to look out for the lodge, to take
care of the children, to make the clothing and to see to the moving of
the camp. It ain't so very different, you see, from what it is among
white folks. Take it among Indians, a man's business is hunting, and
going to war. White men hunt for fun, but Indians don't. Indians hunt,
so that they can live, just the same as any man in the States goes to
his store in the morning, and sells things all day so as to earn money
to support his family."
"Why no," said Jack, "it ain't so very different from what the white man
and the white woman do. Is it?"
"Not very," said Hugh. "Now, I'll tell you, son," he went on, "let's
pack up most all our truck to-night, and get the packs ready to put on
the horses in the morning. Our horses will be driven in with the old
man's, and we can catch them and pack them, and leave them here for the
women to drive on with theirs, and then we can either go ahead with the
soldiers, or if you like, you can stop in the camp, and see them take
down everything and begin to move."
"I think I'd rather stay here and see them move, Hugh," said Jack. "But
what do you mean by the soldiers?"
"Why, the soldiers," said Hugh, "are sort of constables like. I thought
I'd told you about them. They're young men that are going to war all the
time, and they're the ones that see that the orders given by the chiefs
are obeyed. It is like this; if there was any man to-morrow morning, who
said he was not going to move, and whose lodge was not taken down, the
soldiers would go to him and if he were obstinate, just as like as not
they'd give him a good licking with their quirts. If he still refused to
go with the camp, they might tear down his lodge, break the lodge poles
and even cut the lodge-skins to pieces. It is a pretty serious matter
you see, to disobey the chief's orders, and really, 'tisn't ever done."
After supper that night, Joe came to the lodge, and after a little talk
said to Jack, "Isn't this great, that we are going to move and going to
chase buffalo?"
"You bet it is great," said Jack. "You know I've never seen a buffalo
chase, and I've always thought it must be a fine thing to see."
"I tell you," said Joe; "after they kill plenty of buffalo, everybody is
glad. All through the camp they put up the drying scaffolds, and as the
meat is brought in, they cut it into thin slices and hang it over the
poles, and for a little while it looks as if red cloth was stretched all
through the camp. Of course, after two or three hours, it gets dry and
brown, but when it is first put up, it is real pretty I tell you."
"Well," said Jack, "I hope I'll see that. You can't think, Joe, how much
I want to find out everything about the Indians. Everything that they
do, and say, and think, is so different from anything I've ever seen
before, that it just makes me pretty near crazy when I think what a
chance I've got here, and how little I've learned yet."
"Oh well," said Joe, "you'll know a heap before you go away, but I don't
want you to know everything, because, then maybe you'd never come back.
Suppose you go away this Fall, not knowing everything, maybe you'll come
back next Spring to learn the rest."
"Well," said Jack, "I can't think of any better fun than to do just
that." After a minute he went on, "You've killed buffalo, Joe?"
"Yes," said Joe, "a few, not many. I haven't got a good running horse,
and so I never killed many chasing them. It takes a pretty good horse to
catch a cow. You've got two."
"Well," said Jack, "I'll tell you what I'll do, the first chase we have,
I'll let you ride my new horse, and I'll ride Pawnee; then maybe we'll
both have good luck."
"That'll be good," said Joe. "Suppose I ride that new horse, I'm pretty
sure to have good luck."
"Look here, son," broke in Hugh, who had been sitting near them, "you'll
want to have a lesson in buffalo running before you try it the first
time. There's some things that a greenhorn has got to be told. Now, when
you start to chase buffalo, you must ride right up close to the animal
you are trying to kill. You'll never kill any buffalo if you are afraid
of them. Ride right up within two or three yards of a cow, and when you
are about even with her hips, shoot at her, and try to hit her in the
heart. You must remember what I've told you so many times, that you
have got to shoot low down to kill any animal, but at a buffalo, with
its big hump, you've got to shoot lower down than most anything else.
That's the great trouble most men have when they hunt buffalo the first
time, they shoot too high, and the ball goes through the meat and don't
hurt the buffalo a bit. If you'll remember those two things, to get up
close, and to shoot low down, you won't have any trouble about killing
your buffalo."
The next morning when Jack looked out of the lodge, a great change had
come over the camp. Many places, where lodges had stood the night
before, were now vacant. In other places only the conical frame work of
poles was seen, and in others the women were just pulling away the lodge
skins, or in some cases were standing on a travois which leaned against
the lodge, and were unpinning its front. The camp was full of horses,
many of them tied to pins or bundles of baggage, or to travois, but many
others were roaming loose through the circle. Jack had never before seen
all the horses of the camp gathered together, and was astonished at
their numbers. All about the circle were piles of robes, bundles,
saddles, cooking utensils, and other property which the women were
gathering together, tying up, packing on the horses, or loading on the
travois.
The scene was one of great activity, and the work that was being done
was not conducted in silence. There were colts that had lost their
mothers and were screaming shrilly, and mares were neighing for their
missing colts. The camp dogs were in a state of high excitement, and
were barking or howling, or got in people's way, and when kicked out of
it, yelped dolefully. The little boys, who swarmed through the circle,
were shouting, whooping, running races and wrestling. The women, worried
by the labour of packing and of looking after their children and their
horses, called to each other with high pitched voices, and many of the
babies missing their mother's attention, added their cries to the babel
which prevailed.
Jack watched the scene for a little while, and then going back into the
lodge, said, "Well, Hugh, I never expected to hear so much noise in this
camp as there is this morning. Will they ever quiet down again? This
isn't very much like the camp we have been in for the last three weeks."
"No," said Hugh, "the first day that camp is broken after a long stop in
any one place, they make quite a racket. You'll see, though, that when
they move to-morrow, things will go a good deal more smoothly. Now, as
soon as we've finished eating," he went on, "let's catch up our horses
and pack them, and tie them up here with old John's. Then I'm going on
ahead with the old men, and if you want to, you can stop here as long as
you like; only, if I were you, I wouldn't wander away from the column
very much. You see, now we are going out on to the prairie, where there
is more danger of meeting enemies, and I wouldn't go off alone at all.
Get Joe to go with you, or go with some little party of two or three
men, or ask me and I'll ride with you wherever you want me to."
"All right," said Jack, "I'll remember. I've seen enemies enough for a
little while, and I don't want to run onto any more of 'em."
It did not take them long to catch and pack their horses. Jack tied up
his new riding-horse with the pack-animals, and John Monroe's wife said
that she would see that they were all driven on. Then Hugh started off
to join the head of the column which had already begun to cross the
river, while Jack mounted Pawnee, and rode about through the camp. It
was very amusing to him to watch the various operations that were going
on. Women were constantly completing the work of packing and starting
off with their families, to follow those who had gone on before, so that
there was a continuous stream of people heading toward the river,
entering it, crossing and clambering out on the other side. The trail
climbed a steep bluff there, and the long line of people that followed
it, made Jack think of a brightly coloured serpent slowly making its way
up the hillside.
At last he tired of the scenes of the camp, and riding to the river,
joined the procession that was crossing it. Once on the other side, he
turned Pawnee out of the trail, and rode on rapidly toward the head of
the column where he joined Hugh. Twenty-five or thirty old and
middle-aged men were in the lead, and behind them rode more than a
hundred young men on fine horses, handsomely dressed, and well armed. A
few of them carried rifles; many others double-barrel shot-guns, but a
great many were provided only with bows and arrows which they now
carried in cases on their backs.
"Oh! Hugh," said Jack, as he rode up, "are these young men here the
soldiers?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "they're the soldiers. They all belong to one of the
secret societies, the Mût'siks, that means brave. As I was saying to
you last night, if the chiefs want anything done they tell these young
fellows to have it done. There's quite a long story about these
different secret societies, and some night when we have plenty of time,
we'll have to get some of the old men to tell us these stories. You see,
usually, they don't talk much about these things to white folks, but
I've heard 'most all the stories, and likely they wouldn't mind telling
them to you. You see, one reason an Indian don't like to talk about
sacred things to white men, is, that he's afraid the white man will
laugh at him, but of course they know you wouldn't do that any more than
I would."
"I should think not," said Jack, "I'd be so pleased to hear anything
that they were willing to tell me, that I don't think I'd laugh at it
even if it were real funny."
"No," said Hugh, "of course you oughtn't to. Of course, some of these
things that the Indians believe sound ridiculous to us white folks, but
they're mighty real to them, and they believe in them just as we believe
in a whole lot of things that likely would sound mighty ridiculous to
them. Some of them bible stories for example. You couldn't get an Indian
to believe them, and yet white folks think it's all so."
"You mean the miracles?" said Jack.
"Yes, I expect that's it."
After a little pause Jack asked Hugh, "What are those men doing that I
see crossing the hills ahead of us, Hugh?"
"Why," said Hugh, "those are young men and boys that are out hunting
through the brush to kill anything that's there before the camp gets
along, and scares everything. We're likely to stop before we've gone
much further, and to wait for the column to close up. Then those young
fellows will get quite a-ways ahead. Of course, they'll kill any game
that they might come across, and then too, they will scout the country
for any enemies that might be about."
Hugh had hardly stopped speaking, when the old men drew in their horses,
and dismounting, sat down in a circle on the ground, and the soldiers
too got off their horses and the people behind them stopped. Pipes were
filled and were passed from hand to hand. "What are they waiting for,
Hugh?" said Jack.
"Why, you see, son," said the old man, "there's always a lot of people
that are late leaving the camp, and they have stopped here to let such
people catch up, so that the column won't be scattered out too far.
Sometimes it happens if they straggle too much, that a little war party
may dash down onto the column, and kill two or three women and then ride
off again before anybody can get near enough to punish them."
After half an hour's rest, the march was taken up again and before long,
the last hill was climbed, and the camp moved forward along an open
ridge that led toward the prairie. From time to time the trail passed
through scattering patches of aspen or through a point of pine timber
running down from the mountains, but by the middle of the afternoon,
they had left the mountains well behind them, and a little later, they
camped in the open valley of a branch of the Milk River. It surprised
Jack to see how speedily the lodges were erected and how short a time it
took this unorganized mob of people to settle down into the ordinary
routine of camp life.
For several days the village moved eastward, crossing the Milk River,
and at last, one night, they camped near the base of the Sweet Grass
Hills. Ever since leaving the mountains, buffalo had been in sight. At
first only an occasional individual, then small groups of three or four
bulls, later little herds. But here, at the base of the Sweet Grass
Hills, they were abundant, and from an elevation the prairie was seen to
be dotted with them, almost as far as the eye could reach. On the march
a few buffalo had been killed by men who had stolen up to them quietly;
but no one had chased buffalo, for the chiefs had given strict orders
against it.