CHAPTER IV.

_Receiving Horses.—Departure from Grand Pawnees.—Crossing the

Platte.—The Iotan’s Wife._

The morning at length arrived upon which we were to take our leave of

the Grand Pawnees, and shape our course for the village of the Pawnee

Republicans. It is situated upon the Loup fork of the Platte river, about

twenty miles distant.

The couriers appointed to carry the tidings of our approach to the

nation, had left the village the night before. We were now drawn out in

the area in front of the lodge, awaiting the movements of the soldiers

who were scattered around, some driving in, and others searching for,

the horses, on the small islands of the Platte.

The chief of the Pawnee Republican village, after lingering with us till

the last moment, started forward across the river. In the dim distance we

could perceive his flake-white horse skimming like a bird over the crests

of the hills. Now he disappeared in their deep, undulating hollows, now

he again flashed for an instant on the eye as he passed over the brow of

some more distant ridge. He was pushing forward to reach his village, and

marshal his warriors.

In about half an hour, the soldiers returned, driving in the horses, and

commenced saddling them for the march.

In the meantime, those Indians who had promised horses on the first day

of our meeting, brought them up. A young Indian first came forward, and

led up a bright, jet-black mare—after him followed another, holding

in his hand a long buffalo tug, or halter, which restrained the wild

motions of a two years’ old colt. His colour was snowy white, here and

there broken with spots of brown. He had been caught wild from the

prairies but a few weeks before. He was a slave, but he had never been

mounted—his back had never bent to a burden. They led him up in his own

native wildness—his tail stood out—his ears were pricked up—his eyes

starting—his nostrils expanded—and every hair of his long mane seemed

almost erect with an undefinable feeling of terror. At one moment he

dashed swiftly around at the full stretch of the long tug which secured

him—then pausing, and shaking his long mane over his head, he fixed the

gaze of his almost bursting eyes upon his captor. Then raising his head,

and casting a long, lingering, and almost despairing gaze upon the hills

of the prairie, which till then had been his home, he made a desperate

leap forward, dragging to the ground the Indian who held the end of his

halter. Others, however, rushed to his assistance, and held him in. The

crowd then attempted to close round him, but he reared upon his hind

legs, and kept them at bay, with rapid and powerful blows of his fore

feet. At length a young Indian who was standing near, threw off his robe

and crept cautiously towards the animal from behind. With a sudden leap

he bounded upon his back, and seized the tug, which was secured in his

mouth. Before this, the efforts of the animal had been violent; but when

he felt the burden upon his back—when he felt the curbing hand of his

rider—he sent up a shrill and almost frantic scream—he bounded in the

air like a wild-cat—he reared, he plunged, but in vain; his rider was a

master hand, and retained his seat as unmoved as if he had constituted

part of the animal itself. He curbed him in—he lashed him with his heavy

whip, until he crouched like a dog upon the prairie. His spirit was

crushed; and the last spark of freedom was extinguished. Shortly after,

one of the hunters came up and tied a pack upon his back. He made no

resistance, and they led him off with the rest, to finish his days in

drudgery and toil.

In the meantime the other Indians led up their horses. It was evident

that many of them had made their promises in the excitement of the

moment. They were now fulfilling them as matters of conscience, not

of inclination; and their horses were valuable in proportion. One was

lame, another blind; one had large patches of skin galled upon his back,

and the ears of another were cropped close to his head. In fine it was

evident that they had selected the very worst of their animals for

the fulfilment of their promises. Our _stud_ was a collection of the

maimed, the halt, and the blind. One after another they came lingering

up, until one Indian alone lagged behind. The chief inquired for him,

and was told that he had gone out to search for his animal. Ten minutes

elapsed. At last there was a movement in the crowd, and a sly-looking,

old white-headed Indian made his way through it. In his hand he held the

end of a long buffalo tug: the other was secured to his horse. Such a

horse! he was blind of both eyes; his tail had been cut off short to his

rump; his ribs stood out in bold relief; and his very joints creaked, as

he walked stiffly after his leader. As for his age there was no mode of

telling it, as his teeth had long since dropped out; but it must have

been incalculable.

There was a smothered giggling among the women, and a downright squall

of laughter among the children, as the horse stalked forwards towards its

future owner. The old Indian moved towards Mr. E——, and without raising

his head placed the end of the halter in the hand of one of the soldiers.

There was a deal of mischief in his look, and I could hear a smothered

chuckle rattling beneath the folds of his robe, as he drew it up over his

face, and disappeared among the crowd.

We now mounted and started at a rapid pace for the banks of the river.

The heavy lumbering wagons followed more slowly, and a train of about

half the village brought up the rear.

Upon reaching the banks we found that the Otoes were already on their way

through the river. Some were wading up to their arm-pits; others, had

missed the ford, and were swept down the stream, holding their blankets

high over their heads to keep them dry, as they struggled across the

rushing current. Others, mounted on horses which they had trafficked for

with the Pawnees, were dashing and spattering through the shallow parts

of the river, or clinging to the manes of their steeds, as they ploughed

their way through the deep current.

The river at this place was nearly two miles broad, here and there

interspersed with small islands. The depth was ever varying; in some

places it was but a few inches, in others it must have been from ten to

twenty feet. At one moment, the water scarce reached the fetlocks of your

horse—the next step sent him floundering up to the holsters.

After reaching the banks of the river, a short consultation was held. The

heavy baggage wagons were then sent forward, with two Indians to guide

them over the ford. After them followed the dearborn wagons. One was

driven by an old soldier, who kept steadily in the wake of the teams. Two

mules drew the other. They were driven by our half-French, half-devil

Joe, who was seated upon the dash-board of the wagon, swearing in broken

English, sometimes at the animals, and at others, at the slow pace of

the oxen which dragged the wagons in front. For some time, he followed

steadily in their train; but at length his patience became exhausted, and

he determined to drive forward at all hazards. He plied his whip upon the

flanks of the mules. At the first application they stopped short—at the

second they kicked up—but at the third they commenced moving forward—for

they had learnt by long experience, that the patience and perseverance of

their driver in the application of the lash, were sufficient to overcome

even their own almost inexhaustible fund of obstinacy, and ill nature.

Half a dozen steps brought the water up to the bottom of the wagon. The

mules doubted, but the driver whipped on. Another half a dozen steps, and

the water gushed over the sides into the wagon—still the lash was busy.

The next moment the beasts were swimming, with only the tips of their

noses and ears, visible above the surface. The wagon had disappeared

beneath the water, and the head of the driver, shaded by a broad-brimmed

hat, went skimming along the surface, pouring out a steady stream of

French and English oaths, jumbled into one common mass. Occasionally an

arm was flourished above the water, inflicting a little chastisement upon

the nose and ears of the animals, which caused them to dip under the

water, with a prodigious increase of snorting, but not much acceleration

of speed. At length, however, the deep water was passed, and after

drifting about a hundred yards down the river, the wagon gradually rose

above the surface, and travelled slowly up the opposite bank.

The rest of the party then commenced their march in Indian file across

the ford, keeping in a line with a tall Indian, who led the way. Most of

the party followed the guide; but some of our horses were restive, and

missing the ford, drifted us a short distance down the stream, where we

reached a small island, and scrambling up its bank, galloped across to

the opposite side.

Here we found a wife of the Iotan chief, standing on the edge of the

water. She had accompanied him from his village. She was young, tall, and

finely formed; her face, next to that of the wife of the Kioway Indian,

was the most beautiful we had met with. Her hair was parted across her

forehead, and hung down upon her shoulders. A small jacket of blue

cloth, was fastened round her shoulders and breast, and a mantle of the

same, was wrapped around her body. They had been presented to her by

the commissioner, but a few days before. She was standing upon a small

sand-bar, and the water was gurgling around her feet; a short distance

in front of her, a deep channel was rushing with a powerful current.

She looked at the water, and then at her dress, with an expression of

almost childish sorrow, for, to swim the river would ruin her finery. The

Indians had all reached the opposite bank, and were waiting for the rest

to come up, so that no assistance could be expected from them.

Just then the hunters dashed by her, into the deep channel, but did not

even notice her. I was the last of the party, and she knew it; for though

we could not speak the same language, there was an imploring expression

in her large dark eye as she fixed it upon me, that told every thing.

Still I hesitated: I thought of pushing on; there was a powerful struggle

between selfishness and a desire to assist her; she saw it, and speaking

a few words in her own silvery tongue, she at the same time pointed to

her new dress.

There was something so sorrowful in the tone and gesture, that I could

not resist it. I took my rifle in my left hand, and reaching out my

right, she seized it; she placed her foot on mine, and, with a sudden

bound, was upon the back of my horse, stooping behind me, with her arms

round my neck. The horse had so long been accustomed to have his own way

in every thing, that he grew very indignant at this new imposition—but

a lunge of the spurs subdued his wrath, and he bounded forward into the

rushing river. He was a powerful animal, and took to the water like a

sea-fowl. The river rushed and roared around us, and we could feel the

strong nervous quivering of his limbs, as he bore up against it. But

occasionally as he went snorting along, he cast back spiteful glances

at his riders. I expected mischief, and it came to pass. We felt his

hoofs touch the bottom—three leaps—he was up the bank—his heels flew in

the air—the arms of the squaw were jerked violently from my neck, and

I saw her describing a somerset through the air; she landed upon her

feet and received no injury. The Indians raised a shout of laughter, and

the horse, satisfied with being relieved from his extra burden, jogged

quietly on towards the Republican village.

Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee tribes (Vol. 2 of 2) · 第 4 / 24 章