_Storm.—Dog Feast._
A heavy storm of mingled snow and rain set in, on the day after our
departure from the Pawnee village.
If there is any thing truly comfortless, it is a camp upon a rainy day.
Every thing combined to add to its gloomy character. The fly of the tent,
which might have afforded us protection, had been torn to tatters; and
the roof of our canvas house, settled down into a bag. Through this a
steady stream of water distilled, upon the centre of a board, which we
had honoured with the appellation of a breakfast table. The blankets
were rolled up, and piled in the middle of the tent, covered by a large
bear-skin. This was nearly saturated with the drizzling moisture. A large
pile of green logs, heaped up in front of the tent, refused to burn, but
yielded a bountiful supply of smoke, which the wind occasionally wafted
in clouds into our canvas habitation.
The thorough drenching which they had received, seemed to have soaked all
pride and dignity, out of our Indian companions. They crouched like wet
poultry round the fire, shutting their eyes, and holding their breath,
determined to receive some of its warmth, in defiance of the clouds of
smoke which it threw into their faces. Here and there, were small groups
squatting out in the prairie; each man was huddled up into a knot, with
the rain pouring in streams down his shaggy robe, and dripping off into
the grass. The paint was drenched from his face, and his whole demeanour
so utterly changed, that it was almost impossible to recognize the proud,
haughty warrior, in the dripping, bedraggled being, then crouching in the
grass, beneath the pelting storm. Once or twice, some poor, half-drowned
fellow, with a desperate attempt at jovialty, struck up a song, with a
come-let’s-be-jolly kind of an air, which was intended to set the weather
and fortune at defiance; but it was a failure. At the commencement one or
two voices struck in with valorous spirit, but finding that they were not
supported, they gradually sunk into silence, leaving the person who had
commenced the strain, to finish it as well as he might.
Drip—drip—drip—pattered the rain into a tin bucket, placed in the tent
to receive it. At length a large puddle which had collected in the rear,
overflowed its banks, and stole in a small rivulet through the centre of
the tent. A smothered oath from one of the party, who was seated in the
very track of the water, announced its intrusion. Several of the soldiers
were then sent out, with pails and shovels, and in a short time succeeded
in draining a part of the pond, and digging a different outlet for its
waters.
Just then the yelping of a cur was heard at a little distance, in a clump
of bushes, which the Wild Horse had chosen for his residence.
“So! the dog too is a sufferer on account of the inclemency of the
weather. No doubt the Wild Horse is completely drenched, and in a
terrible fume.”
Another hour passed, but still the rain continued. Just then the entrance
of the tent was darkened, and the Wild Horse entered. He held in his hand
a large wooden bowl, filled with boiled flesh, which he placed smoking
before us. We were informed that it was dog flesh, and invited to try it.
The soldiers had also received a share, but without being told what it
was. “What is it,” said one, taking up a small morsel, and holding it to
his nose, “is it venison?”
“It tastes odd,” said another, biting in two a large piece. Several of
them then commenced an attack upon the contents of their bowl.
“I don’t exactly _know_ what animal this belongs to,” said one of them,
who was eating heartily; “and to tell the truth, I don’t altogether like
the _strangeish_ taste, there is about it.”
“Poh! what should it be,” repeated another, “but venison? and mighty
tender too. I wish there was more of it; fresh meat don’t come every day
upon these prairies, for the deer are getting powerful shy.”
Just then the canvas opening of the tent was pulled back, and the iron
face of the interpreter was thrust in to say, that the Wild Horse wished
to know, if the commissioner was pleased with the _dog’s_ flesh. The
soldiers overheard it, and in an instant the dish was hurled from the
fire, and the gourmands made for the water, writhing and twisting their
faces, as if they had been stricken by St. Vitus. The Wild Horse gazed
upon them with amazement, mingled with anger; but when the interpreter
explained the cause of the tumult, his displeasure vanished, and a grim
smile lighted up his hard, weather-beaten face. Then turning to his wife,
(for he was attended by his better half) he called for a fresh supply
of the viand, and collecting round him a group of the vagabond-looking
beings, who were nestling in the grass, they soon left little else but
clean bones in the bowl.
We lay for a whole day upon the banks of the Platte river, but towards
sunset a bright blue streak appeared in the west, and the dark misty
clouds began to drive off towards the south. The sun at length showed
itself upon the distant hills, and before it had completely sunk in the
west, the sky was as pure and cloudless as in one of the happy days
of June. This was hailed with joy by the whole band, both Indians and
whites, and preparations were made for an early start on the following
morning.