by the legitimate _bourgeois_, Papin, in whose absence the command
devolved upon Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow,
much inflated by a sense of his new authority, began to roar for
buffalo-robes. These being brought and spread upon the floor formed
our beds,--much better ones than we had of late been accustomed
to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out to the balcony to take a
more leisurely survey of the long looked-for haven at which we had
arrived at last. Beneath us was the square area surrounded by little
rooms, or rather cells, which opened upon it. These were devoted to
various purposes, but served chiefly for the accommodation of the men
employed at the fort, or of the equally numerous squaws whom they were
allowed to maintain in it. Opposite to us rose the blockhouse above
the gateway; it was adorned with the figure of a horse at full speed,
daubed upon the boards with red paint, and exhibiting a degree of skill
which might rival that displayed by the Indians in executing similar
designs upon their robes and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the
area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were about to set out for
a remote post in the mountains, and the Canadians were going through
their preparations with all possible bustle, while here and there an
Indian stood looking on with imperturbable gravity.
Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the “American Fur
Company,” which well-nigh monopolizes the Indian trade of this region.
Here its officials rule with an absolute sway; the arm of the United
States has little force; for when we were there, the extreme outposts
of her troops were about seven hundred miles to the eastward. The
little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, and externally is
of an oblong form, with bastions of clay, in the form of ordinary
blockhouses, at two of the corners. The walls are about fifteen feet
high, and surmounted by a slender palisade. The roofs of the apartments
within, which are built close against the walls, serve the purpose of a
banquette. Within, the fort is divided by a partition: on one side is
the square area, surrounded by the store-rooms, offices, and apartments
of the inmates; on the other is the _corral_, a narrow place,
encompassed by the high clay walls, where at night, or in presence of
dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of the fort are crowded for
safe keeping. The main entrance has two gates, with an arched passage
intervening. A little square window, high above the ground, opens
laterally from an adjoining chamber into this passage; so that when
the inner gate is closed and barred, a person without may still hold
communication with those within, through this narrow aperture. This
obviates the necessity of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes
of trading, into the body of the fort; for when danger is apprehended,
the inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic is carried on by means of
the window. This precaution, though necessary at some of the Company’s
posts, is seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie; where, though men are
frequently killed in the neighborhood, no apprehensions are felt of
any general designs of hostility from the Indians.
We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. The door was
silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and a visage as black as night
looked in upon us; then a red arm and shoulder intruded themselves,
and a tall Indian, gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his
salutation, and sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces
of the natural hue, and letting fall their heavy robes from their
shoulders, took their seats, quite at ease, in a semicircle before us.
The pipe was now to be lighted and passed from one to another; and
this was the only entertainment that at present they expected from us.
These visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the squaws
in the fort, where they were permitted to remain, loitering about in
perfect idleness. All those who smoked with us were men of standing and
repute. Two or three others dropped in also; young fellows who neither
by their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank with the old
men and warriors, and who, abashed in the presence of their superiors,
stood aloof, never withdrawing their eyes from us. Their cheeks were
adorned with vermilion, their ears with pendants of shell, and their
necks with beads. Never yet having signalized themselves as hunters,
or performed the honorable exploit of killing a man, they were held in
slight esteem, and were diffident and bashful in proportion. Certain
formidable inconveniences attended this influx of visitors. They were
bent on inspecting everything in the room; our equipments and our
dress alike underwent their scrutiny, for though the contrary has been
asserted, few beings have more curiosity than Indians in regard to
subjects within their ordinary range of thought. As to other matters,
indeed, they seem utterly indifferent. They will not trouble themselves
to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but are quite contented
to place their hands over their mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim
that it is “great medicine.” With this comprehensive solution, an
Indian never is at a loss. He never launches into speculation and
conjecture; his reason moves in its beaten track. His soul is dormant;
and no exertions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the old
world or of the new, have as yet availed to arouse it.
As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the desolate plains
that surround the fort, we observed a cluster of strange objects like
scaffolds, rising in the distance against the red western sky. They
bore aloft some singular-looking burdens; and at their foot glimmered
something white, like bones. This was the place of sepulture of some
Dakota chiefs, whose remains their people are fond of placing in the
vicinity of the fort, in the hope that they may thus be protected from
violation at the hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more than
once, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow Indians, ranging
through the country, have thrown the bodies from the scaffolds, and
broken them to pieces, amid the yells of the Dakota, who remained pent
up in the fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult. The
white objects upon the ground were buffalo-skulls, arranged in the
mystic circle commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon the
prairie.
We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or sixty horses
approaching the fort. These were the animals belonging to the
establishment; who, having been sent out to feed, under the care of
armed guards, in the meadows below, were now being driven into the
_corral_ for the night. A gate opened into this inclosure; by the
side of it stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy
eyebrows, and a dragoon pistol stuck into his belt; while his comrade,
mounted on horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in front, and
his long hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the
disorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow
_corral_ was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, and
crowding restlessly together.
The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in the area,
summoned us to supper. The repast was served on a rough table in one
of the lower apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread
and dried buffalo-meat, an excellent thing for strengthening the teeth.
At this meal were seated the _bourgeois_ and superior dignitaries of
the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included.
No sooner was it finished than the table was spread a second time
(the luxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the benefit
of certain hunters and trappers of an inferior standing; while the
ordinary Canadian _engagés_ were regaled on dried meat in one of their
lodging rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort
Laramie, it may not be amiss to introduce in this place a story current
among the men when we were there.
There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the
meat from the store-room for the men. Old Pierre, in the kindness
of his heart, used to select the fattest and the best pieces for
his companions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed _bourgeois_,
who was greatly disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for
some means to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly suited
him. At the side of the meat-room, and separated from it by a clay
partition, was another apartment, used for the storage of furs. It
had no communication with the fort, except through a square hole in
the partition; and of course it was perfectly dark. One evening the
_bourgeois_, watching for a moment when no one observed him, dodged
into the meat-room, clambered through the hole, and ensconced himself
among the furs and buffalo-robes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with
his lantern, and muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales
of meat and select the best pieces, as usual. But suddenly a hollow
and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner room: “Pierre, Pierre!
Let that fat meat alone. Take nothing but lean.” Pierre dropped
his lantern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony
of terror, that the devil was in the store-room; but tripping on
the threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay senseless,
stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the rescue. Some lifted
the unlucky Pierre; and others, making an extempore crucifix of two
sticks, were proceeding to attack the devil in his stronghold, when the
_bourgeois_, with a crestfallen countenance, appeared at the door. To
add to his mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem
to Pierre, in order to bring him to his senses.
We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way between
the gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May. These two
men, together with our sleek friend, the clerk Monthalon, were, I
believe, the only persons then in the fort who could read and write.
May was telling a curious story about the traveller Catlin, when an
ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, and
rode by us into the fort. On being questioned, he said that Smoke’s
village was close at hand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed
before the hills beyond the river were covered with a disorderly swarm
of savages, on horseback and on foot. May finished his story; and by
that time the whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, and begun
to cross it in a mass. I walked down to the bank. The stream is wide,
and was then between three and four feet deep, with a swift current.
For several rods the water was alive with dogs, horses, and Indians.
The long poles used in pitching the lodges are carried by the horses,
fastened by the heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude
sort of pack-saddle, while the other end drags on the ground. About a
foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is suspended
between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place. On the back of the
horse are piled various articles of luggage; the basket also is well
filled with domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of
puppies, a brood of small children, or a superannuated old man. Numbers
of these curious vehicles, _traineaux_, or, as the Canadians called
them, _travois_, were now splashing together through the stream. Among
them swam countless dogs, often burdened with miniature _traineaux_;
and dashing forward on horseback through the throng came the warriors,
the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy clinging fast behind them.
The women sat perched on the pack-saddles, adding not a little to the
load of the already overburdened horses. The confusion was prodigious.
The dogs yelled and howled in chorus; the puppies in the _travois_ set
up a dismal whine as the water invaded their comfortable retreat; the
little black-eyed children, from one year of age upward, clung fast
with both hands to the edge of their basket, and looked over in alarm
at the water rushing so near them, sputtering and making wry mouths as
it splashed against their faces. Some of the dogs, encumbered by their
load, were carried down by the current, yelping piteously; and the old
squaws would rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck,
and drag them out. As each horse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he
could. Stray horses and colts came among the rest, often breaking away
at full speed through the crowd, followed by the old hags, screaming
after their fashion on all occasions of excitement. Buxom young squaws,
blooming in all the charms of vermilion, stood here and there on the
bank, holding aloft their master’s lance, as a signal to collect the
scattered portions of his household. In a few moments the crowd melted
away; each family with its horses and equipage, filing off to the plain
at the rear of the fort; and here, in the space of half an hour, arose
sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges. Their horses were feeding
by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and their dogs were roaming
everywhere. The fort was full of warriors, and the children were
whooping and yelling incessantly under the walls.
These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux ran across
the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his spyglass. The
obedient Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instrument,
and Bordeaux hurried with it to the wall. Pointing it eastward, he
exclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. But a few
moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could
be seen, steadily advancing from the hills. They gained the river, and,
without turning or pausing, plunged in, passed through, and slowly
ascending the opposing bank, kept directly on their way by the fort
and the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile
distant, they wheeled into a circle. For some time our tranquillity
was undisturbed. The emigrants were preparing their encampment; but no
sooner was this accomplished than Fort Laramie was taken by storm. A
crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyes, appeared
suddenly at the gate. Tall, awkward men, in brown homespun, women, with
cadaverous faces and long lank figures, came thronging in together,
and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, ransacked every
nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at this invasion we withdrew
in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove a
sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted their investigations with untiring
vigor. They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, inhabited by the
astonished squaws. Resolved to search every mystery to the bottom, they
explored the apartments of the men, and even that of Marie and the
_bourgeois_. At last a numerous deputation appeared at our door, but
found no encouragement to remain.
Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next proceeded to
business. Their men occupied themselves in procuring supplies for their
onward journey,--either buying them, or giving in exchange superfluous
articles of their own.
The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French Indians,
as they called the trappers and traders. They thought, and with some
reason, that these men bore them no good-will. Many of them were firmly
persuaded that the French were instigating the Indians to attack
and cut them off. On visiting the encampment we were at once struck
with the extraordinary perplexity and indecision that prevailed among
them. They seemed like men totally out of their element,--bewildered
and amazed, like a troop of schoolboys lost in the woods. It was
impossible to be long among them without being conscious of the bold
spirit with which most of them were animated. But the _forest_ is the
home of the backwoodsman. On the remote prairie he is totally at a
loss. He differs as much from the genuine “mountain-man” as a Canadian
voyageur, paddling his canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, differs from
an American sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion
and I were somewhat at a loss to account for this perturbed state of
mind. It could not be cowardice; these men were of the same stock with
the volunteers of Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, for the most part,
they were the rudest and most ignorant of the frontier population; they
knew absolutely nothing of the country and its inhabitants; they had
already experienced much misfortune, and apprehended more; they had
seen nothing of mankind, and had never put their own resources to the
test.
A full share of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers, we were
looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a supply of lead and a few
other necessary articles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps to
obtain them. After some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling
of the hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, the
price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring the article in
question. After waiting until our patience gave out, we would go in
search of him, and find him seated on the tongue of his wagon.
“Well, stranger,” he would observe, as he saw us approach, “I reckon I
won’t trade.”
Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of the bargain, and
whispered in his ear that clearly we meant to cheat him, and he had
better have nothing to do with us.
This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly unfortunate, as it
exposed them to real danger. Assume, in the presence of Indians, a bold
bearing, self-confident yet vigilant, and you will find them tolerably
safe neighbors. But your safety depends on the respect and fear you
are able to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you convert
them from that moment into insidious and dangerous enemies. The Dakota
saw clearly enough the perturbation of the emigrants, and instantly
availed themselves of it. They became extremely insolent and exacting
in their demands. It has become an established custom with them to go
to the camp of every party, as it arrives in succession at the fort,
and demand a feast. Smoke’s village had come with this express design,
having made several days’ journey with no other object than that of
enjoying a cup of coffee and two or three biscuit. So the “feast” was
demanded, and the emigrants dared not refuse it.
One evening about sunset the village was deserted. We met old men,
warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, trooping off to the
encampment with faces of anticipation; and, arriving here, they seated
themselves in a semicircle. Smoke occupied the centre, with his
warriors on either hand; the young men and boys came next, and the
squaws and children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit and
coffee were promptly despatched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed
at their savage guests. With each emigrant party that arrived at Fort
Laramie this scene was renewed; and every day the Indians grew more
rapacious and presumptuous. One evening they broke in pieces, out of
mere wantonness, the cups from which they had been feasted; and this
so exasperated the emigrants that many of them seized their rifles
and could scarcely be restrained from firing on the insolent mob of
Indians. Before we left the country this dangerous spirit on the part
of the Dakota had mounted to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to
threaten the emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one
or two parties of them. A military force and military law are urgently
called for in that perilous region; and unless troops are speedily
stationed at Fort Laramie, or elsewhere in the neighborhood, both
emigrants and other travellers will be exposed to most imminent risks.
The Ogillallah, the Brulé, and the other western bands of the Dakota
or Sioux, are thorough savages, unchanged by any contact with
civilization. Not one of them can speak a European tongue, or has ever
visited an American settlement. Until within a year or two, when the
emigrants began to pass through their country on the way to Oregon,
they had seen no whites, except a few employed about the Fur Company’s
posts. They thought them a wise people, inferior only to themselves,
living in leather lodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo.
But when the swarm of _Meneaska_, with their oxen and wagons, began
to invade them, their astonishment was unbounded. They could scarcely
believe that the earth contained such a multitude of white men. Their
wonder is now giving way to indignation; and the result, unless
vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the extreme.
But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I used often to
visit them. Indeed we spent most of our evenings in the Indian village,
Shaw’s assumption of the medical character giving us a fair pretext.
As a sample of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The
sun had just set, and the horses were driven into the _corral_. The
Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate with a bevy of young
girls, with whom he began a dance in the area, leading them round and
round in a circle, while he jerked up from his chest a succession of
monotonous sounds, to which they kept time in a rueful chant. Outside
the gate boys and young men were idly frolicking; and close by, looking
grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his robe, with his face painted
jet-black, in token that he had lately taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing
these, the tall dark lodges rose between us and the red western sky.
We repaired at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It was by no
means better than the others; indeed, it was rather shabby; for in this
democratic community the chief never assumes superior state. Smoke
sat cross-legged on a buffalo-robe, and his grunt of salutation as we
entered was unusually cordial, out of respect, no doubt, to Shaw’s
medical character. Seated around the lodge were several squaws, and an
abundance of children. The complaint of Shaw’s patients was, for the
most part, a severe inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by exposure
to the sun, a species of disorder which he treated with some success.
He had brought with him a homœopathic medicine-chest, and was, I
presume, the first who introduced that harmless system of treatment
among the Ogillallah. No sooner had a robe been spread at the head of
the lodge for our accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it,
than a patient made her appearance,--the chief’s daughter herself, who,
to do her justice, was the best-looking girl in the village. Being
on excellent terms with the physician, she placed herself readily
under his hands, and submitted with a good grace to his applications,
laughing in his face during the whole process, for a squaw hardly
knows how to smile. This case despatched, another of a different kind
succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old woman sat in the darkest corner of
the lodge, rocking to and fro with pain, and hiding her eyes from the
light by pressing the palms of both hands against her face. At Smoke’s
command she came forward, very unwillingly, and exhibited a pair of
eyes that had nearly disappeared from excess of inflammation. No sooner
had the doctor fastened his grip upon her, than she set up a dismal
moaning, and writhed so in his grasp that he lost all patience; but
being resolved to carry his point, he succeeded at last in applying his
favorite remedies.
“It is strange,” he said when the operation was finished, “that I
forgot to bring any Spanish flies with me; we must have something here
to answer for a counter-irritant.”
So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot brand from the
fire, and clapped it against the temple of the old squaw, who set up an
unearthly howl, at which the rest of the family broke into a laugh.