A Runaway
Vacation had come, and the Indians were about to start on their annual
summer buffalo hunt. Some of the scholars were to accompany their
parents, and others, after a brief home visit, were to return to the
school and continue their studies while the tribe was away.
In the three villages there was great hurry and bustle in every family.
Pack saddles were brought out of the caches where they had lain through
the winter. The task of mending them fell to the older people of the
household, while the younger folk busied themselves in retrimming their
more ornate trappings. Goods not necessary for the journey were stored
away, and the dwellings were made ready for the long absence.
At last there remained but one day before the time set for the
departure of the tribe. In the afternoon I bade my parents good-by, and
reluctantly returned to the school. Quite a number of the boys and
girls had already come back, among them Lester and Warren. Brush had
not left the school, so on my arrival I received from the three boys
the usual greetings we accorded each other when one returned after an
absence. We four paced the long front porch, arm in arm, for a while,
and then went and sat down in the shade of a tree.
"Where is Edwin?" asked Brush; "isn't he coming back?"
"No," I replied; "his mother wanted him to; but his father didn't want
to leave him behind, so he's going on the hunt."
"He'll have lots of fun," said Warren; "I wish I could go!"
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Brush borrowed the
superintendent's spy-glass, and we went to a high point whence we could
watch the movements of the people in the village nearest the school.
We took turns in looking through the glass. Already the head of the
great caravan had gone behind the first hill, but my family had not yet
started. We looked toward Edwin's house, and saw that the people were
just moving. It was a wonderful sight to us, the long procession on the
winding trail, like a great serpent of varied and brilliant colors. At
last I saw my father mount a horse and move forward, the rest of the
family followed him, and I watched them until they finally disappeared
beyond the green hills. It was nearly noon when the end of the line
went out of sight.
While the movements were going on in the village, we could hear the
neighing of horses, the barking of dogs, and the hum of voices, but
now there was a stillness in the deserted village which brought upon
us a sense of loneliness that was hard to overcome. We slowly returned
to the Mission and ate our noonday meal without speaking. There seemed
to be a general depression among the remaining pupils at the school.
A silence pervaded all the surroundings which made each boy wish to
retire from the other and to be alone.
At breakfast, the next morning, there was the same sense of stillness;
even the superintendent and the teachers at their table seemed to be
homesick, and they passed the dishes to each other in silence. The
reading of the Scriptures and the prayer of the superintendent was in
a tone that added to the gloominess which had taken possession of our
simple little souls.
As we were slowly marching out of the dining-room, when the worship was
over, the superintendent stopped Brush and said to him:
"I want you to go after the mail this morning; go on horse-back so as
to get back soon. I have some work for you to do this afternoon. Take
Dolly, and use the large saddle; the other one needs mending."
"Let's go down to the spring," said Lester to Warren and me.
So while Brush went to the barn to saddle up, we three went to the
spring and sat under an elm that stood near by.
"Say, boys, I 'm going to the hunt!" said Lester, startling us with
the sudden announcement; "I heard that two families down at the
Wood-eaters' village can't get away for two days yet, and I'm going
down there so I can go with them. The Omahas always wait on the Wa-tae
(Elkhorn River), for those that are last."
"If you're going, I'm going too," spoke up Warren; "I don't want to
stay here."
"If you two go, I'm going!" I exclaimed.
"All right, let's all go then," said Lester, rising. "We must hurry up;
some one might see us!"
We followed a narrow path that led through a ravine just beyond the
spring. We were in the greatest excitement; every little sound aroused
within us the fear of detection, and we frequently sought for a hiding
place, while we carefully avoided all well-beaten paths. Silently we
plodded our way through the bushes until we came to a hill where there
were no trees, then we ran as fast as our legs could carry us for
another wooded place.
We stopped a moment when passing to take a look at the village. Silence
prevailed. Not a living thing was astir. Three whirlwinds chased each
other along the winding paths between the houses, making funnel-shaped
dust clouds as they sped on.
"The ghosts have entered the village," said Lester, in our own
language, and in a melancholy tone; "they always do that as soon as the
living leave their houses!"
Entering the ravine for which we were making, we continued our journey.
The nettle weeds caused us much suffering, for we were barefooted, and
wore short trousers. We came to an opening; before us lay the road to
the Agency; we looked cautiously around, then started to cross it to
go into another ravine that headed toward the big village, when the
snorting of a horse was heard with startling distinctness.
"Quick! quick! get down!" exclaimed Lester in a loud whisper, as he
dropped into the gully of the old abandoned wagon-road.
Warren and I followed hastily, pulling the tall grass over us. We heard
the footsteps of the horse come nearer and nearer to our hiding place.
It stopped and reached its head down, and began to nibble the grass
under which I lay concealed. I looked up through a slight opening,
and, behold! there on the horse sat Brush with one leg thrown over the
pommel of the saddle, busily reading a book. I could see the boy's eyes
and his lips moving as he read, and at times it seemed as though his
eyes were looking right into mine. I was in great suspense while the
horse stood there, but at length Brush picked up the rains and urged
Dolly on. As soon as he disappeared at the bend of the road, we rose
and darted across and ran down to the ravine.
We entered the big village of sod houses through which we had to pass.
Here, too, we felt the sense of desolation that pervaded even the hills
around. Somewhere from the midst of these peculiar dwellings came the
doleful howl of a stray dog, the only sound that broke the stillness
of the place. What sensations my companions experienced upon hearing
the melancholy wail of that deserted beast I do not know; but, like
the rapid advance of a fire over the prairie, a thrill that made the
very roots of my hair creep vibrated through my body. Involuntarily we
paused to listen; the long-drawn moan came to a close, and the ghostly
echoes carried on the sound as though to mock the lost creature.
"Let's run!" exclaimed Lester, in a frightened tone; "let's get away
from here!"
And so we sped on until, all out of breath, we were far beyond the
limits of the village.
The shadows of the hills and the trees were beginning to grow long
as we reached the foot of the bluffs where lay the village of the
Wood-eaters. We followed a narrow but well-beaten path, wending our way
among the tall trees. Suddenly a dog, with tail rigid and erect, and
hair bristling, came barking at us with savage fury.
"'Shta-du-ba! 'Shta-du-ba!" called Lester, as he came near. "It is I,
don't you know me?"
The dog, on hearing his name from a familiar voice, relaxed his
aggressive appearance and assumed one of joyous welcome. He jumped upon
us, licked our hands, wagged his whole body as well as his tail, and
preceded us with leaps and barks of delight.
We came to a clear space, and there before us against the deep shadows
of the woods stood a solitary sod house, the smoke lazily ascending
to the sky from the top of the dome-shaped roof, making a picture of
simple contentment. In the projecting doorway stood a man looking
intently in our direction. The serious expression of his face changed
to one of pleasure and amusement as he descried the three school-boys.
When we were near enough for him to fully recognize us, his smile burst
into a mirthful laugh in which we could not help joining, though to us
our business was full of seriousness.
"Woo-hoo!" he mildly exclaimed, "what important thing is it that has
brought you here at this time, when all are about going away? Your
mother left yesterday," he said, addressing my companions, then turning
to me remarked, "Your father must have gone to-day."
"We ran away from school because we want to go on the hunt," explained
Lester. "I know my mother has gone; but my uncle has not left yet, so
we are going to him."
"He is still here, we all go to-morrow morning early; but you should
have stayed at the House of Teaching; you would get more good there
than by going on the hunt. You know the way to Me-chah'-pe's house,
just follow that path."
We trudged along to Me-chah'-pe's house. The family had gathered
about an outside fire, and were eating their supper in the dusk.
Upon our coming into the light of the fire we were recognized; the
mother and grown daughter greeted us with exclamations of surprise and
sympathy; while the father and the two sons glanced at each other with
expressions of amusement. A place was assigned us in the circle, and
soon we were busily engaged with the simple fare placed before us by
the good and hospitable mother.
"Why do parents when they go away leave their children at the House
of Teaching, I wonder?" commented the woman, as she apportioned the
food for us. "Some people show no signs of affection for their sons
and daughters until they sicken and die; then they tear their hair and
rend the air with their loud wails. It is well enough while the parents
are at home that they should place the young ones in the care of the
White-chests; but, when going on a long journey like this, they should
take the children with them."
By the side of every Indian house stands a raised platform made of
poles, elevated upon posts, some seven or eight feet high, planted
firmly in the ground. This platform is used for drying corn and squash,
at the time of harvesting; but, through the summer when the people are
at home, the young men and boys take possession of it, for sleeping
in the open air. As weariness began to be felt, one by one, the
family arose, and, without formality, each sought his place of rest.
We school-boys and the sons of Me-chah'-pe repaired to the platform,
climbing the "stairs" made of a single log, with notches cut in it for
steps.
This was the first night I had ever spent out of doors. The novel
experience, and the excitements of the day, filled my mind with strange
speculations, and I lay awake long after my companions had gone to
sleep. Now and then, I heard the chatter of birds and the whirring of
their wings, as they flew by far above me, and I wondered if they could
see in the darkness. The roar of the river filled the still air, and
the crash of a tree uprooted by the current sent its echoes far and
wide; then the sounds about me grew to faint murmurings, until I was
conscious of them no more.
When I awoke, the dawn was coming, and the stars were beginning to turn
pale. There was a gentle stir in the tent near by; a tall man came out,
and his shadowy form passed from view into the slowly rising mist. A
woman moved noiselessly to the fire-place, and, bending over, began
to gather the embers together, blowing them to life with her breath.
The gray streak along the horizon slowly turned to a rosy hue; here
and there the birds began drowsily to peep and twitter, then, when the
sun shot its rays through the heavens, a thousand voices burst into
rapturous song.
My companions awoke, and one by one we climbed down the rude ladder to
the ground.
When we gathered for breakfast, the mother, as she helped the food,
asked, "Where is Na-zhe'-de-ah?" (Lester.)
Warren and I looked at each other; neither of us could explain his
absence.
"Call him," said the good woman, addressing her son; "we must hurry,
the sun is up!"
No response came to the young man's call. It was evident that Lester
had slipped away before any one was awake.
Breakfast over, Me-chah'-pe and his sons saddled and packed the horses,
while the wife and daughter gathered the various utensils. Warren and
I tried to make ourselves useful by holding up the packs with our
shoulders, as they ware being placed on the horses.
Me-chah'-pe looked at Warren, then at me, as he shouldered his rifle,
and said, "I am sorry that I have not enough horses for all of us to
ride. You see those I have are heavily burdened; so we will have to do
as our fathers did, take one step forward, then another, and keeping
stepping forward until we get to the place where we are going. Are we
ready? Here we go!"
And we did go,--horses, dogs, and all. Soon we were joined by the man
of the lonely sod house and his family, and together we made quite a
cavalcade as we went up hill and down hill, and up hill and down hill
again. By and by, we reached a long ridge, called by the Indians "the
tortuous ridge," which zigzagged in a westerly direction, and along it
lay the hunting trail.
The sun grew hot; Warren and I were drenched with perspiration as we
plodded on. Every now and then Me-chah'-pe gave us an encouraging word,
when we showed signs of lagging. We were determined to keep on, for
were we not going to a buffalo hunt! The heat increased. The dogs did
not now chase each other and run after birds as when we started out,
but let loose their tongues and panted, keeping close to the shadows of
the horses. On we all trudged, while the one baby slept on its mother's
back, its little head rocking from side to side with the motion of her
steps.
As we reached an elevated point on the ridge, Me-chah'-pe shaded
his face with his hand and scanned the horizon. Far ahead of us his
experienced eye caught sight of an object, like a mere speck. He
pointed it out to us, saying, "There's somebody coming."
Warren and I looked at each other in alarm, and then kept our eyes on
the speck, which grew larger and larger as the distance between it and
us lessened.
"The horse looks like one of your father's," said Me-chah'-pe to me. "I
think it is some one looking for you!"
My heart sank When I recognized the horse as father's, and the rider as
my uncle, and, for the first time in my life, I was not glad to meet
him.
Warren and I were captured, and there was no escape. We tried to
be brave when Me-chah'-pe shook hands with us, as his party moved
westward; but we were far from happy when, ignominiously mounted on
father's horse, one behind the other, we followed my uncle, who walked
so rapidly that the animal had to trot now and then to keep up. The
road over which we had so laboriously travelled on our outward way was
soon retraced, and the sun still high when my uncle, who had wandered
all night in search of us, turned us over to Gray-beard.
It was thought best to punish us; so Warren was taken to the top of
the house and locked up in the attic, where he was to reflect upon
the wrong he had committed in running away. But I am quite sure he
thought more about the devil and the ghosts in that horrid place than
of anything else.
As for me, I was marched to the dining-room, placed with my back to one
of the posts, and my arms brought around it and tied; then I was left
alone in this uncomfortable position,--to repent.
The afternoon was close and hot; the windows and doors were open, but
the place was very quiet. Now and then I heard the cry of a bird, or
the laughter of the happy wren. The time seemed very long as I stood
there, with my arms thrown back around the post and my hands tied so
that I could not defend myself against the flies that attacked my bare
feet. A rooster came to the back door and entered the dining-room.
He shied on discovering me; but, as I did not move, he began picking
in the cracks of the floor. He spied my toe, looked at it curiously,
turning his head from side to side, then stretched his neck and gave
it a dab. I was in no mood to be amused by his actions, so I sent him
flopping and squawking under the table. Recovering from his surprise,
he ran around, sprang on the table, then on the sill of the open
window, tossed up his head, flapped his wings, gave a lusty crow, and
hopped out.
Immediately I saw eight little fingers hook themselves on the outer
edge of the window-sill, and a head with black hair held back by a
rubber comb rise higher and higher until two bright eyes gazed right
into mine. The head disappeared, and shortly after a little figure
cautiously approached the door, looked all around, and then came up to
me. It was Rosalie. Her bright smiling face threw a sunbeam into my
gloomy little heart. Without saying a word she wiped the perspiration
from my face with the corner of her apron; then she went away softly in
the direction of the kitchen. Soon she returned with a tin cup having
in it bits of ice. She took a lump and put it in my mouth, then stood
looking in my face. After a while, she said, "I like you, don't I?"
"'M h'm!" I assented with my mouth closed, nodding my head.
"When we get big, we're going to be married, ain't we?"
"'M h'm!" again I answered.
"We won't send our children to this horrid old place, will we?"
"'M'm! 'M'm!" I replied with emphasis, shaking my head and stamping the
floor.
The little sweet-heart, seeing that the flies troubled my ankles, went
out and came back with a linden branch and brushed away the pests. I
slid to the floor and sat down with my legs stretched out. Rosalie
dropped down too, and sat whisking away the flies.
Gradually things took on queer shapes, and the sounds seemed to come
from afar; there was a moment of confusion and then,--I found myself
on a wide prairie. Heavy clouds were swiftly approaching; the thunder
rolled long and loud, and the lightning darted hither and thither. Off
in the distance I saw a forest. I pushed toward it with all my strength
so as to take shelter before the storm should come upon me; but as I
labored on there crept over me a consciousness of a weight upon my
back which, hitherto, I had not noticed. It retarded my progress, and
from time to time I was obliged to stop and give a little spring to
shift the burden higher up. A cry of terror came from the thing I was
carrying; then I knew it was little Rosalie. I tried to speak words of
encouragement to her, but my strength was fast failing. Great drops of
rain fell, and the wind drove the dust into my face, blinding me. I
tottered on with my load, but the timber was still far away. A vivid
flash, a deafening crash, and I fell to the ground with a cry. I tried
to rise, but my legs and arms were as though dead.
With a start I opened my eyes. The room was darkened; there was a great
commotion; all through the house, windows were being rapidly closed and
the doors swung to with a bang. A terrific storm had arisen, and the
building was in danger of destruction. Rosalie lay asleep with her head
resting on my knees.