CRUSOE ACTS A CONSPICUOUS AND HUMANE PART--A FRIEND GAINED--A GREAT
FEAST.
When the foot-race was concluded, the three hunters hung about, looking
on at the various games for some time, and then strolled towards the
lake.
"Ye may be thankful yer neck's whole," said Joe, grinning, as Henri
rubbed his shoulder with a rueful look. "An' we'll have to send that
Injun and his family a knife and some beads to make up for the fright
they got."
"Hah! an' fat is to be give to me for my broke shoulder?"
"Credit, man, credit," said Dick Varley, laughing.
"Credit! fat is dat?"
"Honour and glory, lad, and the praises of them savages."
"Ha! de praise? more probeebale de ill-vill of de rascale. I seed dem
scowl at me not ver' pritty."
"That's true, Henri, but sich as it is it's all ye'll git."
"I vish," remarked Henri after a pause--"I vish I could git de vampum
belt de leetle chief had on. It vas superb. Fat place do vampums come
from?"
"They're shells--"
"Oui," interrupted Henri. "I know _fat_ de is. Dey is shells, and de
Injuns tink dem goot monish; mais, I ask you _fat place_ de come from."
"They are thought to be gathered on the shores o' the Pacific," said
Joe; "the Injuns on the west o' the Rocky Mountains picks them up and
exchanges them wi' the fellows here-away for horses and skins--so I'm
told."
At this moment there was a wild cry of terror heard a short distance
ahead of them. Rushing forward they observed an Indian woman flying
frantically down the river's bank towards the waterfall, a hundred yards
above which an object was seen struggling in the water.
"'Tis her child," cried Joe, as the mother's frantic cry reached his
ear. "It'll be over the fall in a minute! Run, Dick, you're quickest."
They had all started forward at speed, but Dick and Crusoe were far
ahead, and abreast of the spot in a few seconds.
"Save it, pup," cried Dick, pointing to the child, which had been caught
in an eddy, and was for a few moments hovering on the edge of the stream
that rushed impetuously towards the fall.
The noble Newfoundland did not require to be told what to do. It seems
a natural instinct in this sagacious species of dog to save man or beast
that chances to be struggling in the water, and many are the authentic
stories related of Newfoundland dogs saving life in cases of shipwreck.
Indeed, they are regularly trained to the work in some countries, and
nobly, fearlessly, disinterestedly, do they discharge their trust, often
in the midst of appalling dangers. Crusoe sprang from the bank with
such impetus that his broad chest ploughed up the water like the bow of
a boat, and the energetic workings of his muscles were indicated by the
force of each successive propulsion as he shot ahead.
In a few seconds he reached the child and caught it by the hair. Then
he turned to swim back, but the stream had got hold of him. Bravely he
struggled, and lifted the child breast-high out of the water in his
powerful efforts to stem the current. In vain. Each moment he was
carried inch by inch down until he was on the brink of the fall, which,
though not high, was a large body of water and fell with a heavy roar.
He raised himself high out of the stream with the vigour of his last
struggle, and then fell back into the abyss.
By this time the poor mother was in a canoe as close to the fall as she
could with safety approach, and the little bark danced like a
cockle-shell on the turmoil of waters as she stood with uplifted paddle
and staring eyeballs awaiting the rising of the child.
Crusoe came up almost instantly, but _alone_, for the dash over the fall
had wrenched the child from his teeth. He raised himself high up and
looked anxiously round for a moment. Then he caught sight of a little
hand raised above the boiling flood. In one moment he had the child
again by the hair, and, just as the prow of the Indian woman's canoe
touched the shore, he brought the child to land.
Springing towards him, the mother snatched her child from the flood and
gazed at its death-like face with eyeballs starting from their sockets;
then she laid her cheek on its cold breast and stood like a statue of
despair. There was one slight pulsation of the heart and a gentle
motion of the hand! The child still lived. Opening up her blanket she
laid her little one against her naked, warm bosom, drew the covering
close around it, and, sitting down on the bank, wept aloud for joy.
"Come,--come 'way quick," cried Henri, hurrying off to hide the emotion
which he could not crush down.
"Ay, she don't need our help now," said Joe, following his comrade.
As for Crusoe, he walked along by his master's side with his usual
quiet, serene look of good-will towards all mankind. Doubtless a
feeling of gladness at having saved a human life filled his shaggy
breast, for he wagged his tail gently, after each shake of his dripping
sides, but his meek eyes were downcast, save when raised to receive the
welcome and unusually fervent caress. Crusoe did not know that those
three men loved him as though he had been a brother.
On their way back to the village the hunters were met by a little boy,
who said that a council was to be held immediately, and their presence
was requested.
The council was held in the tent of the principal chief, towards which
all the other chiefs and many of the noted braves hurried. Like all
Indian councils, it was preceded by smoking the "medicine pipe," and was
followed by speeches from several of the best orators. The substance of
the discourse differed little from what has been already related in
reference to the treaty between the Pale-faces, and upon the whole it
was satisfactory. But Joe Blunt could not fail to notice that Mahtawa
maintained sullen silence during the whole course of the meeting.
He observed, also, that there was a considerable change in the tone of
the meeting when he informed them that he was bound on a similar errand
of peace to several of the other tribes, especially to one or two tribes
which were the Pawnees' bitter enemies at that time. These grasping
savages having quite made up their minds that they were to obtain the
entire contents of the two bales of goods, were much mortified on
hearing that part was to go to other Indian tribes. Some of them even
hinted that this would not be allowed, and Joe feared at one time that
things were going to take an unfavourable turn. The hair of his scalp,
as he afterwards said, "began to lift a little and feel oneasy." But
San-it-sa-rish stood honestly to his word; said that it would be well
that the Pale-faces and the Pawnees should be brothers, and hoped that
they would not forget the promise of annual presents from the hand of
the great chief who lived in the big village near the rising sun.
Having settled this matter amicably, Joe distributed among the Indians
the proportion of his goods designed for them, and then they all
adjourned to another tent where a great feast was prepared for them.
"Are ye hungry?" inquired Joe of Dick as they walked along.
"Ay, that am I. I feel as if I could eat a buffalo alive. Why, it's my
'pinion we've tasted nothin' since daybreak this mornin'."
"Well, I've often told ye that them Red-skins think it a disgrace to
give in eatin' till all that's set before them at a feast is bolted.
We'll ha' to stretch oursel's, we will."
"I'se got a plenty room," remarked Henri.
"Ye have, but ye'll wish ye had more in a little."
"Bien, I not care!"
In a quarter of an hour all the guests invited to this great _medicine_
feast were assembled. No women were admitted. They never are at Indian
feasts.
We may remark in passing, that the word "medicine," as used among the
North American Indians, has a very much wider signification than it has
with us. It is an almost inexplicable word. When asked, they cannot
give a full or satisfactory explanation of it themselves. In the
general, we may say that whatever is mysterious is "medicine." Jugglery
and conjuring, of a noisy, mysterious, and, we must add, rather silly
nature, is "medicine," and the juggler is a "medicine-man." These
medicine-men undertake cures, but they are regular charlatans, and know
nothing whatever of the diseases they pretend to cure, or their
remedies. They carry bags containing sundry relics; these are "medicine
bags." Every brave has his own private medicine bag. Everything that
is incomprehensible, or supposed to be supernatural, religious, or
medical, is "medicine." This feast, being an unusual one, in honour of
strangers, and in connection with a peculiar and unexpected event, was
"medicine." Even Crusoe, since his gallant conduct in saving the Indian
child, was "medicine"; and Dick Varley's double-barrelled rifle, which
had been an object of wonder ever since his arrival at the village, was
tremendous "medicine!"
Of course the Indians were arrayed in their best; several wore necklaces
of the claws of the grizzly bear, of which they are extremely proud; and
a gaudily picturesque group they were. The chief, however, had
undergone a transformation that well-nigh upset the gravity of our
hunters, and rendered Dick's efforts to look solemn quite abortive.
San-it-sa-rish had once been to the trading forts of the Pale-faces, and
while there had received the customary gift of a blue surtout with brass
buttons, and an ordinary hat, such as gentlemen wear at home. As the
coat was a good deal too small for him, a terrible length of dark, bony
wrist appeared below the cuffs. The waist was too high, and it was with
great difficulty that he managed to button the garment across his broad
chest. Being ignorant of the nature of a hat, the worthy savage had
allowed the paper and string with which it had been originally covered,
to remain on, supposing them to be part and parcel of the hat; and this,
together with the high collar of the coat, which gave him a crushed-up
appearance, the long black naked legs, and the painted visage, gave to
him a _tout ensemble_ which we can compare to nothing, as there was
nothing in nature comparable to it.
Those guests who assembled first passed their time in smoking the
medicine pipe until the others should arrive; for so long as a single
invited guest is absent the feast cannot begin. Dignified silence was
maintained while the pipe thus circulated from hand to hand. When the
last guest arrived they began.
The men were seated in two rows, face to face. Feasts of this kind
usually consist of but one species of food, and on the present occasion
it was an enormous cauldron full of maize which had to be devoured.
About fifty sat down to eat a quantity of what may be termed thick
porridge, that would have been ample allowance for a hundred ordinary
men. Before commencing, San-it-sa-rish desired an aged medicine-man to
make an oration, which he did fluently and poetically. Its subject was
the praise of the giver of the feast. At the end of each period there
was a general "Hou! hou!" of assent--equivalent to the hear! hear! of
civilised men.
Other orators then followed, all of whom spoke with great ease and
fluency, and some in the most impassioned strains, working themselves
and their audience up to the highest pitch of excitement, now shouting
with frenzied violence till their eyes glared from their sockets, and
the veins of their foreheads swelled almost to bursting as they spoke of
war and chase--anon breaking into soft modulated and pleasing tones,
while they dilated upon the pleasures of peace and hospitality.
After these had finished, a number of wooden bowls full of maize
porridge were put down between the guests--one bowl to each couple
facing each other. But before commencing, a portion was laid aside and
dedicated to their gods, with various mysterious ceremonies; for here,
as in other places where the gospel is not known, the poor savages
fancied that they could propitiate God with sacrifices. They had never
heard of the "sacrifice of a broken spirit and a contrite heart." This
offering being made, the feast began in earnest. Not only was it a rule
in this feast that every mouthful should be swallowed by each guest,
however unwilling and unable he should be to do so, but he who could
dispose of it with greatest speed was deemed the greatest man--at least
on that occasion--while the last to conclude his supper was looked upon
with some degree of contempt!
It seems strange that such a custom should ever have arisen, and one is
not a little puzzled in endeavouring to guess at the origin of it.
There is one fact that occurs to us as the probable cause. The Indian
is, as we have before hinted, frequently reduced to a state bordering on
starvation, and in a day after he may be burdened with superabundance of
food. He oftentimes, therefore, eats as much as he can stuff into his
body when he is blessed with plenty, so as to be the better able to
withstand the attacks of hunger that may possibly be in store for him.
The amount that an Indian will thus eat at a single meal is incredible.
He seems to have the power of distending himself for the reception of a
quantity that would kill a civilised man. Children, in particular,
become like tightly inflated little balloons after a feast, and as they
wear no clothing, the extraordinary rotundity is very obvious, not to
say ridiculous. We conclude, therefore, that unusual powers of
gormandising, being useful, come at last to be cultivated as
praiseworthy.
By good fortune Dick and Joe Blunt happened to have such enormous
gluttons as _vis-a-vis_, that the portions of their respective bowls
which they could not devour were gobbled up for them. By good capacity
and digestion, with no small amount of effort, Henri managed to dispose
of his own share; but he was last of being done, and fell in the
savages' esteem greatly. The way in which that sticky compost of boiled
maize went down was absolutely amazing. The man opposite Dick, in
particular, was a human boa-constrictor. He well-nigh suffocated Dick
with suppressed laughter. He was a great raw-boned savage, with a
throat of indiarubber, and went quickly and quietly on swallowing mass
after mass, with the solemn gravity of an owl. It mattered not a straw
to him that Dick took comparatively small mouthfuls, and nearly choked
on them too for want of liquid to wash them down. Had Dick eaten none
at all he would have uncomplainingly disposed of the whole. Jack the
Giant-Killer's feats were nothing to his, and when at last the bowl was
empty, he stopped short like a machine from which the steam had been
suddenly cut off, and laid down his buffalo horn spoon _without_ a sigh.
Dick sighed, though, with relief and gratitude when his bowl was empty.
"I hope I may never have to do it again," said Joe that night as they
wended their way back to the chief's tent after supper. "I wouldn't be
fit for anything for a week arter it."
Dick could only laugh, for any allusion to the feast instantly brought
back that owl-like gourmand to whom he was so deeply indebted.
Henri groaned. "Oh! mes boy, I am speechless! I am ready for bust!
Oui,--hah! I veesh it vas to-morrow."
Many a time that night did Henri "veesh it vas to-morrow," as he lay
helpless on his back, looking up through the roof of the chief's tent at
the stars, and listening enviously to the plethoric snoring of Joe
Blunt.
He was entertained, however, during those waking hours with a serenade
such as few civilised ears ever listen to. This was nothing else than a
vocal concert performed by all the dogs of the village, and as they
amounted to nearly two thousand, the orchestra was a pretty full one.
These wretches howled as if they had all gone mad. Yet there was
"method in their madness," for they congregated in a crowd before
beginning, and sat down on their haunches. Then one, which seemed to be
the conductor, raised his snout to the sky, and uttered a long, low,
melancholy wail. The others took it up by twos and threes, until the
whole pack had their noses pointing to the stars, and their throats
distended to the uttermost, while a prolonged yell filled the air. Then
it sank gradually, one or two (bad performers probably) making a yelping
attempt to get it up again at the wrong time. Again the conductor
raised his nose, and out it came--full swing. There was no vociferous
barking. It was simple wolfish howling increased in fervour to an
electric yell, with slight barks running continuously through it like an
obbligato accompaniment.
When Crusoe first heard the unwonted sound he sprang to his feet,
bristled up like a hyena, showed all his teeth, and bounded out of the
tent blazing with indignation and astonishment. When he found out what
it was he returned quite sleek, and with a look of profound contempt on
his countenance as he resumed his place by his master's side and went to
sleep.