THE LURE
It was well in line with the General's character that he kept me on
tenterhooks until the very afternoon before the intended day of
marching. Then, as it were at the eleventh hour, he included in his
written orders to Lieutenant Pike, to march the following day, a brief
paragraph to the effect that I was to accompany the expedition as a
volunteer surgeon.
Notwithstanding the orders of the General, we did not start in the
morning, but were forced to wait over until the fifteenth of July, owing
to the unreadiness of our savage charges, the Osage captives who had
been rescued from the Pottawattomies and who were to be returned to
their people under our escort.
The first stage of our journey, up the devious Osage River, was one
tedious to all and exceedingly laborious to those whose duties confined
them to the navigation of the boats. In confirmation I need only add
that the Summer was fast nearing its close before we arrived at the
Osage towns.
There, instead of the generosity which we had a right to expect from an
Indian tribe to whom we had restored so many members, we were delayed
many days by their ungrateful reluctance to supply us with horses, and
in the end obtained with greatest difficulty only a few of their least
desirable animals.
Yet, relieved of the boats and our Indian charges and possessed of these
few pack-beasts and saddle horses, our march on toward the Pawnee
Republic, when at last we did get under way again, soon carried us into
the prairie which lies westward of the three-hundred-mile belt of
half-forested lands along the Mississippi. We had come to that vast
extent of desert plains which, though abounding in game, is all but
destitute of timber. In consequence of this fact, young Wilkinson and I
agreed with Pike that the arid waste is destined to serve forever as the
Western boundary of the Republic's settled population.
About the middle of September I was sent on ahead of the party to the
Pawnee Republic, accompanied by a young Pawnee called Frank, one of the
half-dozen of his people attached to the expedition at St. Louis. We
were well mounted, and travelled rapidly in a northwesterly direction,
across the lower fork of the Kansas River and the three branches which
flow into the Republican Fork from the south and west.
At first we kept a sharp outlook for hunting and war parties of the
Kans, who at the time were not on the best of terms with their cousins
the Osages. But throughout our trip we saw nothing more dangerous than
the numerous panthers which thrive on the superabundant game. Though
bold, these tawny beasts were too well fed to trouble us. The same was
true of the gray wolves, a small pack of which followed us day after day
to feast upon the carcasses of the buffaloes we killed.
Evening of the fourth day brought us into the vicinity of the Pawnee
Republic. We were riding along over a broken, hilly country, and my
savage companion was telling me, in a mixture of bad French and worse
English, that we should soon come within sight of the Republican Fork
and his home village, when suddenly we rode into a broad track which
could only have been made by a large body of horsemen, over two hundred
at the very least.
"Hold!" I cried, reining up and pointing at the signs. "Look. Many
people went south, on horses, two or three weeks ago. Your people? They
have gone to the Arkansas?"
"_Non!_" grunted Frank, and leaping off, he caught up and handed to me a
tent pin. "Pawnee? _non!_ Stick no grow in Pawnee hunting-ground. White
man's knife cut him. _Voila!_"
"White man!" I repeated in amazement.
How was it possible that there could have been so large a party of white
men traversing this remote wilderness? As I sat staring at the wooden
pin, studying its grain and shape, Frank circled around through the
beaten grass in search of further signs. A guttural cry from him
compelled my attention.
He was holding up a broken spur.
"Espana!" he called.
One glance was enough to convince me that he was not mistaken. The spur
was of Spanish make.
More puzzled than ever, we clapped heels to our horses, and galloped up
the track, which Frank declared led direct from the village. Within a
few minutes we topped a line of high hills, and found ourselves looking
down into the valley of the Republican and upon the rounded roofs of the
big Pawnee lodges.
One look was enough to relieve our fears regarding the safety of the
village. I had never seen a more peaceful-appearing Indian town. The
women were at work dressing buffalo robes near the lodges or harvesting
their corn and pumpkins in the little patches of field near-by. The
children were scattered far and wide, the girls playing with their
puppies or tagging their mothers, the boys practising with bows and
arrows or watching the hoop-and-pole games of the few men who were to be
seen. The young warriors, probably, were off on hunting or war parties,
and of the men who remained in the village, most were dozing in their
lodges or lolling in the shade outside.
But I did not look long at the savages. My eye was almost immediately
caught by a red-and-yellow flag afloat above the front of the great
council-lodge. Even at that distance I could not fail to recognize it as
the flag of Spain. So astonished was I at the sight that I drew up
short, unable to credit my eyes. The flag solved the mystery of the
track, only to raise the puzzling question of the presence of so large
a body of Spaniards at so great a distance from their present
boundaries.
A loud shouting and commotion in the village roused me from my
bewilderment. We had been sighted. The women and children were fleeing
to the lodges, and all the men capable of bearing arms were advancing
toward us, with threatening guns and bows and lances. However, Frank at
once made the wolf-ear sign which showed them that he was a Pawnee,
while I held up the wampum belt intrusted to me by Pike. A moment later
Frank was recognized, and the news shouted back to the village.
At the same time the men, both mounted and afoot, charged down upon us,
whooping and piercing the air with their shrill war whistle and
flourishing their weapons as if about to tear us to pieces. A man unused
to Indians, no matter how brave, might well have trembled at finding
himself thus confronted by hundreds of yelling, half-naked savages. The
Pawnee warriors are particularly formidable-looking, being tall and well
shaped, and their height accentuated by the bristling roach of short
hair which runs back over their shaven heads to the feathered
scalp-lock. I was, however, too well versed in the Indian character
either to show or to feel any trepidation.
As the wild band closed about us in mock attack, a stately warrior whom
Frank said was Characterish, or White Wolf, the grand chief of the
nation, forced his horse through the mob and greeted me with a guttural
"_Bon jour_!" Upon my return of the salute, he invited me to his lodge.
This was gratifying, for I could see by the Spanish grand medal he wore
suspended from his neck that he had been particularly favored by the
Spaniards, and so might very well have felt ill-disposed toward all
Americans.
When we advanced, escorted by the warriors, we were met by all the rest
of the population, running and shouting and leaping with excitement at
the arrival of their fellow-tribesman and the white man. But at a word
from Characterish, not only the women and children but the warriors as
well quitted their clamor and gave us free passage into the village.
Unlike the mat and slab lodges of the Osages, the Pawnee houses are
substantial structures. Their wattled walls and grassed roof, supported
by a double circle of posts, are covered with a thick layer of sods and
earth above and over all. This makes them cool in Summer and warm in
cold weather; yet, like the Osages, the Pawnees always move down into
the timbers for the Winter.
Arriving at the lodge of White Wolf, I was shown in through the covered
portico which gave the lodge quite the aspect of a civilized home.
Within I found the chief's wives and men-servants busily cooking a meal
for us on the fire in the middle of the wide pit which occupied the
greater part of the lodge's interior. That there might be no doubt of
his hospitality, the chief at once assigned to me one of the snug little
curtained compartments built against the wall, around the edge of the
pit. My room was in the place of honor, beneath the sacred medicine
bundle, on the far side of the lodge.
By the time I had my rifle and saddle stowed away, the chief's cook, a
maimed old warrior, called us to come and eat. I sat down with my host
and his two sons to a none too savory stew of dried buffalo meat,
thickened with pumpkin. To this was added a mess of corn cooked in
buffalo grease. But a prairie traveller is seldom troubled with a dainty
stomach, and I managed to compliment my host by making a hearty meal of
it.
As soon as we had eaten, White Wolf sent out a crier to call in the
chiefs and a few of the foremost warriors of the village. They seated
themselves with us in a circle, and the head chief's calumet was passed
around without any man refusing to smoke.
When the pipe came back around to White Wolf, he addressed me in Pawnee,
which was interpreted by Frank: "Let the white man speak; tell why he
come Pawnee terre."
I held up the wampum belt, and answered briefly: "I come in friendship
from the war chief of the great white father at Washington."
"Ugh! Washington!" grunted the least stolid of the warriors. Even these
remote prairie savages knew that illustrious name.
"--From the war chief sent by the high chief of my people to bring gifts
and peace to the Pawnee people," I continued. "It is his wish that you
send out your young men to guide him to your town as a guest."
As Frank interpreted this I thought I could detect a shade of change
beneath the stolid look of the grim warriors. What was still more
ominous, when the pipe was passed around the second time, no one smoked.
But when it came back to White Wolf, after some delay and hesitation, he
smoked, and thereupon announced laconically: "I go--heap grand comp'ny
meet white capitan."
Again the pipe was started around. It was taken by one of the
sub-chiefs. When he had smoked, he rose majestically, and, drawing up
his buffalo robe about his naked body, pointed dramatically to the
westward. There could be no mistaking the menace in his terse, guttural
declamation.
I looked to Frank, who explained, with evident trepidation: "He
Pitaleshar, grand war chief. He say: ''Merican white braves no go to
setting sun; no march over Pawnee hunting-grounds. Espana chief
grand--heap big; Pawnees grand--heap big; 'Merican soldiers _non_!'
_Voila! Comprenez-vous?_"
"That's to be seen!" I muttered. "Tell them: What the white chief will
do is for him to say when he comes."
Whatever impression this made, none present gave any sign, and the
emptying of the ashes of the sacred calumet by White Wolf's pipe-bearer
brought the council to an end.
As it was now close upon sunset, and I was greatly wearied from my long
journey, I at once sought my fur-padded couch in the rear of the lodge,
and gave myself over to profound slumber.
Upon wakening, I was astonished to find that the sun was well up the
sky, and that White Wolf and Iskatappe, the second chief of the town,
had already set out, with a large party, to meet the expedition. The old
warrior cook, who had been left to attend me, and who spoke a little
French, went on to explain that Frank, having like myself been found
asleep, had also been left undisturbed. At this I hurriedly bolted my
buffalo stew, and stepped outside the lodge, intending to look for
Frank.
But as I paused before the entrance of the huge council-lodge to glance
about and drink in the pure, sunny air, the flapping of the Spanish flag
in the morning breeze compelled my attention.
The first glimpse of those red and yellow folds was sufficient to catch
and hold my gaze. They spoke to me of my lady--of my Alisanda!--and of
the tyrannical power of that Government whose hatred of foreigners
interposed between us a barrier harder to pass than the snowy sierras of
which she had told me. Such at least was the dread that seized upon me
as I gazed up at that symbol of lust for gold and blood.
Presently, as I yet stared at the mocking banner, my glance was caught
by a little tracing of white lines on the outer corner. Prompted by idle
curiosity,--or it may have been by an unconscious premonition,--I waited
until a lull in the breeze brought the flag drooping down within my
reach. I grasped it to look closer at the tracing.
Whether I stood gaping at that little sign for a few brief seconds or
many minutes I cannot say. I was too overcome with wonder and delight to
sense the passage of time. All I can say is that, rousing at last to
action, I slashed off the corner of the flag with my knife and thrust it
into my bosom.
The tracing was a duplicate of that upon the lace handkerchief which,
wrapped about a withered magnolia blossom, I carried in an inner pocket
of my hunting-shirt. It consisted of two letters embroidered in white
silk, and those two letters were--"A. V."
What a volume of joyous news those few stitches of dainty needlework
conveyed to me! My lady had arrived at Chihuahua before the starting of
the Spanish expedition; she had known at least something of the plans of
the Spanish commander, and she had placed her initials upon the flag as
a message to me should I be attempting to cross the barrier and chance
to meet her countrymen.