_Elk Chase.—Indian Sagacity.—Indian Camp._
On the following day we were traversing a valley between two black
prairie hills, when the crack of a rifle sounded from a distant hollow,
and was followed by a loud shout. The Indians stopped short, and
listened, but the shout was not repeated. At length a young Pawnee,
impatient, sprang upon a horse and galloped over a hill, beyond which
the shout had arisen. As he disappeared over its top, a second shout
was heard. After the lapse of a few moments a loud whoop rose from the
same quarter, and suddenly a powerful buck elk, with branching antlers,
and enormous tynes, dashed with mad leaps to the summit of the hill.
He stopped short at the sight of our band and glared wildly around.
He was wounded in the shoulder, and the Pawnee was in hot pursuit.
Casting a quick glance round at his foe, and throwing back his head, he
bounded along the ridge. The wound in his shoulder, lessened his speed.
The Pawnee plied his lash. The heavy hoofs of his horse, struck with a
jarring sound upon the burnt prairie; and a whirl of black ashes was
raised in a light cloud around him. His long hair streamed in the air,
and his dark, heavy robe, fluttered from his shoulders, as he dashed
forward. A great interest in the result was evinced. The Pawnees were
anxious that their hunter should acquit himself well, in the presence of
a foreign tribe, who watched his movements with a jealous eye. The Otoes
lost their usual cold character, in the earnest interest, excited by the
headlong chase; and the Indian hunter who had wounded the elk, stood upon
the top of the hill, leaning upon the muzzle of his rifle, and watching
the success of his ally.
The elk reached the end of the ridge, and sprang down its sloping
declivity. The Pawnee horseman followed. In a moment after the elk was
seen bounding up an opposite ridge, and leaping along its verge. His
pursuer pressed on, about fifty yards in the rear. Here the chase was
again in full sight, and continued so for a few moments. The elk was
growing weaker and weaker. He came to the end of a ridge which was
cragged and almost perpendicular. He paused for a moment on the brink;
looked down the steep; cast a glance behind; then gathering his feet
he made a desperate bound down the rugged bank, and in a moment’s time
dashed up to the top of a succeeding ridge. Almost at the same time,
the Pawnee was at the end of the hill; he looked for a moment down the
steep—he half urged forward his foaming horse, then reining him in,
turned away, and commenced his return towards the party. As he was
leaving the summit of the eminence, he looked around for the animal which
had escaped him, but he had disappeared in a clump of shrubbery. Seeing
the pursuit was ended, the Pawnees folded their robes around them, the
Otoes shouldered their guns, and the whole party resumed its journey.
In company with _Hah-che-kah-sug-hah_ I soon after left the party and
commenced a hunt over the prairie. We were overtaken by a young Otoe
called “the Buffalo Chief.” He was armed with a rifle; and was a keen and
generally a successful hunter. Several Pawnees also came loitering up,
for they always hang in the wake of the hunters, in hopes of obtaining a
portion of what is killed.
We directed our course towards a lofty skirt of forest, fringed with
brushwood. Here we thought that we might hunt successfully; but the
night closed in, and still we were empty handed. So we were obliged to
set out in search of the spot, which we supposed would be the site of
our night encampment. The Indians moved forward with a swift, unwearied
step. They seemed to glide along. Their blankets fluttered in the slight
current produced by the rapidity of their motions, and I was obliged to
hurry swiftly on, lest I should lose sight of them. An hour passed; they
still pushed forward; they spoke not a word; not a sign of intelligence
passed between them; they moved on rapidly through the dark, as if they
guided their course by instinct.
“Ugh!” ejaculated Hah-che-kah-sug-hah, stopping short, and looking
earnestly at some object upon the black sod.
“Ugh! ugh! ugh!” burst from the chests of several of the Pawnees, as they
gathered round the suspicious object, and bent down, to examine it more
closely. I came up to them, but could see nothing. The Indian pointed to
the ground, and after much difficulty, I descried the faint impression
of a moccassin upon the ashes of the burnt grass, though it would have
escaped any, save the keen and ever-observing eye of an Indian.
A few words passed between two of the Otoes; then turning off they
followed steadily upon the unknown track. They appeared to trace it
without difficulty, though to me it was totally invisible.
In about ten minutes, there was another burst from the Indians, and a
broad gray line, traced across the black prairie, and visible even in
the darkness, announced that we had at length come upon the trail of our
party. Here the Indians turned off in the direction indicated by the
line, and passing down a deep hollow, we ascended a hill. From its summit
we perceived at a short distance, a dusky uncertain outline of timber, in
a hollow; and the blazes of fires glimmering, and flickering among the
trees, assured us that we had at last reached the resting place of the
party. The camp lay nestled in a large grove of trees. Within a few yards
of it, the Nemahaw river brawled over a stony bottom, with wild, and not
unpleasing murmurings.
The Indians had distributed themselves about the open woodland, in
groups of five or six. Each group had its own night-fire, and a rough
shed of boughs, to protect it from the dew. In the centre of the grove,
and strongly reflecting the light of the fire, stood the canvas tents
of the whites, and reposing before a pile of blazing logs, were the
uncouth forms of the soldiers; their appearance at present being little
less wild, than that of the Indians. At one end of the heavy logs, was
stretched the demi-savage, half-breed interpreter, reposing after the
labours of the day, and gazing sleepily upon the fire, which blazed
high amid the gathered timber. One or two Otoes were mingled with the
whites; but the rest of the trusty band with the old Iotan, as master of
ceremonies, were collected round a large fire, which burnt brightly at a
few yards’ distance. The graceful form of the Iotan’s wife, was reclining
upon a pile of dried grass, beneath a canopy of green boughs, which had
been formed for her, by the young men of the Otoe party. Notwithstanding
the assurances of the doctor, that she was recovering, she persisted in
her resolution of remaining an invalid; for as long as she travelled
in this character, the soft heart of the soldier who drove the wagon,
prevented his refusing her a seat in the vehicle; and the fiery-tempered
old Iotan still insisted, that the young Indians should perform her share
of the drudgery.
There was something wildly noble, about this little band of Otoes.
They were adorned with all the coxcombry of Indians, before they have
degenerated from savage men, to civilized beasts. There was a frank,
gallant bearing about them; a native chivalry, which caused us almost
unconsciously to place more confidence in them, than in their fierce,
untamed associates. Behind them, resting against the trees, were their
borrowed rifles, glittering beneath the blaze of the fire. Around us in
every direction, were the rough wicker sheds of the Pawnees, their fires
gleaming with an uncertain, lurid light, among the tall, straight trunks
of the overhanging grove.
The Indians in their shaggy robes, were flitting to and fro like troubled
spirits; now hid in the gloom of the night, and now their dark eyes
glittering, and their painted faces glaring, as they moved in the light
of some blazing pile. Some had wrapped their robes closely round them,
and sat buried in a gloomy reverie, with their scowling eyes fixed upon
the burning logs, taking no part in the conversation of their comrades,
nor any note of what was going on around them.
At length one of the young warriors struck up a wild song, which made the
woods re-echo. Another joined it, and another, until the whole of the
group round that fire, were engrossed in the theme. A single voice from
a distant pile then struck in, another followed. Another fire then added
its voice, and gradually it spread from one group to another, until every
throat in the whole Pawnee troop, had united in it. It sung of war, and
well did the gestures, and wildly energetic tones of the singers, express
the meaning of the words. In parts, the blended voices swelled on the
night air, with a mournfully melodious sound; but when the howl, with
which they ended every verse, burst from the throats of the whole band,
it was thrilling and fearful. The Otoes caught the wild enthusiasm of
the moment, and they too added their voices to the savage concert, until
it almost seemed to rend the black canopy above us.
The song was kept up till after midnight; for long after we had retired
to our tents, it frequently awoke us from our slumbers, or mingled in the
phantasmagoria of our dreams.