A MOUNTAIN HUNT
The camp was full of the newly-cut lodge-poles; some, already prepared,
were stacked together, white and glistening, to dry and harden in the
sun; others were lying on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and even
some of the warriors were busily at work peeling off the bark and paring
them with their knives to the proper dimensions. Most of the hides
obtained at the last camp were dressed and scraped thin enough for use,
and many of the squaws were engaged in fitting them together and
sewing them with sinews, to form the coverings for the lodges. Men were
wandering among the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of the
camp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the bark of which,
mixed with tobacco, they use for smoking. Reynal’s squaw was hard
at work with her awl and buffalo sinews upon her lodge, while her
proprietor, having just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was
smoking a social pipe along with Raymond and myself. He proposed at
length that we should go out on a hunt. “Go to the Big Crow’s lodge,”
said he, “and get your rifle. I’ll bet the gray Wyandotte pony against
your mare that we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or likely as not,
a bighorn, before we are two miles out of camp. I’ll take my squaw’s old
yellow horse; you can’t whip her more than four miles an hour, but she
is as good for the mountains as a mule.”
I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually rode. She was a very fine
and powerful animal, gentle and manageable enough by nature; but of
late her temper had been soured by misfortune. About a week before I
had chanced to offend some one of the Indians, who out of revenge went
secretly into the meadow and gave her a severe stab in the haunch
with his knife. The wound, though partially healed, still galled her
extremely, and made her even more perverse and obstinate than the rest
of her species.
The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better health than I had
been at any time for the last two months. Though a strong frame and well
compacted sinews had borne me through hitherto, it was long since I had
been in a condition to feel the exhilaration of the fresh mountain wind
and the gay sunshine that brightened the crags and trees. We left the
little valley and ascended a rocky hollow in the mountain. Very soon we
were out of sight of the camp, and of every living thing, man, beast,
bird, or insect. I had never before, except on foot, passed over such
execrable ground, and I desire never to repeat the experiment. The black
mule grew indignant, and even the redoubtable yellow horse stumbled
every moment, and kept groaning to himself as he cut his feet and legs
among the sharp rocks.
It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was visible except
beetling crags and the bare shingly sides of the mountains, relieved
by scarcely a trace of vegetation. At length, however, we came upon
a forest tract, and had no sooner done so than we heartily wished
ourselves back among the rocks again; for we were on a steep descent,
among trees so thick that we could see scarcely a rod in any direction.
If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where the hazardous
and the ludicrous are combined in about equal proportions, let him get
upon a vicious mule, with a snaffle bit, and try to drive her through
the woods down a slope of 45 degrees. Let him have on a long rifle, a
buckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of long hair. These latter
appendages will be caught every moment and twitched away in small
portions by the twigs, which will also whip him smartly across the face,
while the large branches above thump him on the head. His mule, if she
be a true one, will alternately stop short and dive violently forward,
and his position upon her back will be somewhat diversified and
extraordinary. At one time he will clasp her affectionately, to avoid
the blow of a bough overhead; at another, he will throw himself back
and fling his knee forward against the side of her neck, to keep it
from being crushed between the rough bark of a tree and the equally
unyielding ribs of the animal herself. Reynal was cursing incessantly
during the whole way down. Neither of us had the remotest idea where we
were going; and though I have seen rough riding, I shall always retain
an evil recollection of that five minutes’ scramble.
At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into the channel of
a brook that circled along the foot of the descent; and here, turning
joyfully to the left, we rode in luxury and ease over the white pebbles
and the rippling water, shaded from the glaring sun by an overarching
green transparency. These halcyon moments were of short duration. The
friendly brook, turning sharply to one side, went brawling and foaming
down the rocky hill into an abyss, which, as far as we could discern,
had no bottom; so once more we betook ourselves to the detested woods.
When next we came forth from their dancing shadow and sunlight, we found
ourselves standing in the broad glare of day, on a high jutting point of
the mountain. Before us stretched a long, wide, desert valley, winding
away far amid the mountains. No civilized eye but mine had ever looked
upon that virgin waste. Reynal was gazing intently; he began to speak at
last:
“Many a time, when I was with the Indians, I have been hunting for
gold all through the Black Hills. There’s plenty of it here; you may
be certain of that. I have dreamed about it fifty times, and I never
dreamed yet but what it came true. Look over yonder at those black rocks
piled up against that other big rock. Don’t it look as if there might
be something there? It won’t do for a white man to be rummaging too much
about these mountains; the Indians say they are full of bad spirits; and
I believe myself that it’s no good luck to be hunting about here after
gold. Well, for all that, I would like to have one of these fellows up
here, from down below, to go about with his witch-hazel rod, and I’ll
guarantee that it would not be long before he would light on a gold
mine. Never mind; we’ll let the gold alone for to-day. Look at those
trees down below us in the hollow; we’ll go down there, and I reckon
we’ll get a black-tailed deer.”
But Reynal’s predictions were not verified. We passed mountain after
mountain, and valley after valley; we explored deep ravines; yet still
to my companion’s vexation and evident surprise, no game could be found.
So, in the absence of better, we resolved to go out on the plains and
look for an antelope. With this view we began to pass down a narrow
valley, the bottom of which was covered with the stiff wild-sage
bushes and marked with deep paths, made by the buffalo, who, for some
inexplicable reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long grave
processions, deep among the gorges of these sterile mountains.
Reynal’s eye was ranging incessantly among the rocks and along the edges
of the black precipices, in hopes of discovering the mountain sheep
peering down upon us in fancied security from that giddy elevation.
Nothing was visible for some time. At length we both detected something
in motion near the foot of one of the mountains, and in a moment
afterward a black-tailed deer, with his spreading antlers, stood gazing
at us from the top of a rock, and then, slowly turning away, disappeared
behind it. In an instant Reynal was out of his saddle, and running
toward the spot. I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse and
waiting the result. I lost sight of him, then heard the report of his
rifle, deadened among the rocks, and finally saw him reappear, with a
surly look that plainly betrayed his ill success. Again we moved forward
down the long valley, when soon after we came full upon what seemed a
wide and very shallow ditch, incrusted at the bottom with white clay,
dried and cracked in the sun. Under this fair outside, Reynal’s eye
detected the signs of lurking mischief. He called me to stop, and then
alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the ditch. To my utter
amazement it fell with a dull splash, breaking at once through the thin
crust, and spattering round the hole a yellowish creamy fluid, into
which it sank and disappeared. A stick, five or six feet long lay on the
ground, and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its edge.
It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places like this are numerous
among the Rocky Mountains. The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk,
often plunges into them unawares. Down he sinks; one snort of terror,
one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly flows above his shaggy
head, the languid undulations of its sleek and placid surface alone
betraying how the powerful monster writhes in his death-throes below.
We found after some trouble a point where we could pass the abyss, and
now the valley began to open upon the plains which spread to the horizon
before us. On one of their distant swells we discerned three or four
black specks, which Reynal pronounced to be buffalo.
“Come,” said he, “we must get one of them. My squaw wants more sinews to
finish her lodge with, and I want some glue myself.”
He immediately put the yellow horse at such a gallop as he was capable
of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, who soon far outran her
plebeian rival. When we had galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit,
by ill luck, sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded
violently aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly
to the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went off with a
shock. Its sharp spiteful report rang for some moments in my ear. Being
slightly stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, supposing
me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule. Soon recovering
myself, I rose, picked up the rifle and anxiously examined it. It was
badly injured. The stock was cracked, and the main screw broken, so that
the lock had to be tied in its place with a string; yet happily it was
not rendered totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, reloaded it, and
handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led her up
to me, I mounted again. No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to
rear and plunge with extreme violence; but being now well prepared for
her, and free from incumbrance, I soon reduced her to submission. Then
taking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as before.
We were now free of the mountain and riding far out on the broad
prairie. The buffalo were still some two miles in advance of us. When we
came near them, we stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed
us from their view, and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward with
his rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground. A few
minutes elapsed; I heard the report of his piece, and saw the buffalo
running away at full speed on the right, and immediately after, the
hunter himself unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted his horse in
excessive ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo, swore
that he was a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had never
been out before among those mountains without killing two or three deer
at least.
We now turned toward the distant encampment. As we rode along, antelope
in considerable numbers were flying lightly in all directions over the
plain, but not one of them would stand and be shot at. When we reached
the foot of the mountain ridge that lay between us and the village, we
were too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route; so turning
short to the left, we drove our wearied animals directly upward among
the rocks. Still more antelope were leaping about among these flinty
hillsides. Each of us shot at one, though from a great distance, and
each missed his mark. At length we reached the summit of the last ridge.
Looking down, we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, and
ingloriously descended to it. As we rode among the lodges, the Indians
looked in vain for the fresh meat that should have hung behind our
saddles, and the squaws uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to the
great indignation of Reynal. Our mortification was increased when
we rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian relative, the
Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure on the ground in an easy attitude,
while with his friend the Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making an
abundant meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which the squaw had placed
between them. Near him lay the fresh skin of a female elk, which he had
just killed among the mountains, only a mile or two from the camp. No
doubt the boy’s heart was elated with triumph, but he betrayed no sign
of it. He even seemed totally unconscious of our approach, and his
handsome face had all the tranquillity of Indian self-control;
a self-control which prevents the exhibition of emotion, without
restraining the emotion itself. It was about two months since I had
known the Hail-Storm, and within that time his character had remarkably
developed. When I first saw him, he was just emerging from the habits
and feelings of the boy into the ambition of the hunter and warrior. He
had lately killed his first deer, and this had excited his aspirations
after distinction. Since that time he had been continually in search
of game, and no young hunter in the village had been so active or
so fortunate as he. It will perhaps be remembered how fearlessly he
attacked the buffalo bull, as we were moving toward our camp at the
Medicine-Bow Mountain. All this success had produced a marked change in
his character. As I first remembered him he always shunned the society
of the young squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish in their
presence; but now, in the confidence of his own reputation, he began
to assume the airs and the arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his red
blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his cheeks every day
with vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in his ears. If I observed
aright, he met with very good success in his new pursuits; still the
Hail-Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the full standing
of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women and
girls, he still was timid and abashed in the presence of the chiefs and
old men; for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead body of
an enemy in battle. I have no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced boy
burned with keen desire to flash his maiden scalping-knife, and I would
not have encamped alone with him without watching his movements with a
distrustful eye.
His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different character. He was
nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very well how to hunt, but preferred
to live by the hunting of others. He had no appetite for distinction,
and the Hail-Storm, though a few years younger than he, already
surpassed him in reputation. He had a dark and ugly face, and he
passed a great part of his time in adorning it with vermilion, and
contemplating it by means of a little pocket looking-glass which I
gave him. As for the rest of the day, he divided it between eating and
sleeping, and sitting in the sun on the outside of a lodge. Here he
would remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, with an old
dragoon’s sword in his hand, and evidently flattering himself that he
was the center of attraction to the eyes of the surrounding squaws. Yet
he sat looking straight forward with a face of the utmost gravity, as
if wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only by the occasional
sidelong glances which he shot at his supposed admirers that one could
detect the true course of his thoughts.
Both he and his brother may represent a class in the Indian community;
neither should the Hail-Storm’s friend, the Rabbit, be passed by without
notice. The Hail-Storm and he were inseparable; they ate, slept, and
hunted together, and shared with one another almost all that they
possessed. If there be anything that deserves to be called romantic
in the Indian character, it is to be sought for in friendships such as
this, which are quite common among many of the prairie tribes.
Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged away. I lay in
Reynal’s lodge, overcome by the listless torpor that pervaded the
whole encampment. The day’s work was finished, or if it were not, the
inhabitants had resolved not to finish it at all, and all were dozing
quietly within the shelter of the lodges. A profound lethargy, the very
spirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village. Now and then
I could hear the low laughter of some girl from within a neighboring
lodge, or the small shrill voices of a few restless children, who alone
were moving in the deserted area. The spirit of the place infected me;
I could not even think consecutively; I was fit only for musing and
reverie, when at last, like the rest, I fell asleep.
When evening came and the fires were lighted round the lodges, a select
family circle convened in the neighborhood of Reynal’s domicile. It was
composed entirely of his squaw’s relatives, a mean and ignoble clan,
among whom none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of future
distinction. Even his protests were rendered not a little dubious by the
character of the family, less however from any principle of aristocratic
distinction than from the want of powerful supporters to assist him in
his undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. Raymond and I sat
down along with them. There were eight or ten men gathered around the
fire, together with about as many women, old and young, some of whom
were tolerably good-looking. As the pipe passed round among the men,
a lively conversation went forward, more merry than delicate, and at
length two or three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhat
diffident and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various pungent
witticisms. Some of the men took part and an old squaw concluded
by bestowing on him a ludicrous nick name, at which a general laugh
followed at his expense. Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several
futile attempts at repartee. Knowing the impolicy and even danger of
suffering myself to be placed in a ludicrous light among the Indians,
I maintained a rigid inflexible countenance, and wholly escaped their
sallies.
In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the camp was to retain
its position for another day. I dreaded its languor and monotony, and
to escape it, I set out to explore the surrounding mountains. I was
accompanied by a faithful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed on
whose prompt assistance in time of trouble I could implicitly rely. Most
of the Indians in the village, it is true, professed good-will toward
the whites, but the experience of others and my own observation had
taught me the extreme folly of confidence, and the utter impossibility
of foreseeing to what sudden acts the strange unbridled impulses of an
Indian may urge him. When among this people danger is never so near as
when you are unprepared for it, never so remote as when you are armed
and on the alert to meet it any moment. Nothing offers so strong a
temptation to their ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity,
weakness, or security.
Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and bushes, opened from
the sides of the hills, which were shaggy with forests wherever the
rocks permitted vegetation to spring. A great number of Indians were
stalking along the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping and
laughing on the mountain-sides, practicing eye and hand, and indulging
their destructive propensities by following birds and small animals
and killing them with their little bows and arrows. There was one glen,
stretching up between steep cliffs far into the bosom of the mountain. I
began to ascend along its bottom, pushing my way onward among the rocks,
trees, and bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread of water trickled
along its center, which since issuing from the heart of its native rock
could scarcely have been warmed or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. After
advancing for some time, I conceived myself to be entirely alone;
but coming to a part of the glen in a great measure free of trees and
undergrowth, I saw at some distance the black head and red shoulders of
an Indian among the bushes above. The reader need not prepare himself
for a startling adventure, for I have none to relate. The head and
shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best friend in the village. As
I had approached noiselessly with my moccasined feet, the old man was
quite unconscious of my presence; and turning to a point where I could
gain an unobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, immovable as
a statue, among the rocks and trees. His face was turned upward, and
his eyes seemed riveted on a pine tree springing from a cleft in the
precipice above. The crest of the pine was swaying to and fro in the
wind, and its long limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the tree had
life. Looking for a while at the old man, I was satisfied that he was
engaged in an act of worship or prayer, or communion of some kind with
a supernatural being. I longed to penetrate his thoughts, but I could
do nothing more than conjecture and speculate. I knew that though the
intellect of an Indian can embrace the idea of an all-wise, all-powerful
Spirit, the supreme Ruler of the universe, yet his mind will not always
ascend into communion with a being that seems to him so vast, remote,
and incomprehensible; and when danger threatens, when his hopes are
broken, when the black wing of sorrow overshadows him, he is prone to
turn for relief to some inferior agency, less removed from the ordinary
scope of his faculties. He has a guardian spirit, on whom he relies
for succor and guidance. To him all nature is instinct with mystic
influence. Among those mountains not a wild beast was prowling, a bird
singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might not tend to direct his destiny
or give warning of what was in store for him; and he watches the world
of nature around him as the astrologer watches the stars. So closely is
he linked with it that his guardian spirit, no unsubstantial creation of
the fancy, is usually embodied in the form of some living thing--a bear,
a wolf, an eagle, or a serpent; and Mene-Seela, as he gazed intently on
the old pine tree, might believe it to inshrine the fancied guide and
protector of his life.
Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it was no part of
sense or of delicacy to disturb him. Silently retracing my footsteps, I
descended the glen until I came to a point where I could climb the steep
precipices that shut it in, and gain the side of the mountain. Looking
up, I saw a tall peak rising among the woods. Something impelled me to
climb; I had not felt for many a day such strength and elasticity of
limb. An hour and a half of slow and often intermittent labor brought me
to the very summit; and emerging from the dark shadows of the rocks and
pines, I stepped forth into the light, and walking along the sunny verge
of a precipice, seated myself on its extreme point. Looking between the
mountain peaks to the westward, the pale blue prairie was stretching to
the farthest horizon like a serene and tranquil ocean. The surrounding
mountains were in themselves sufficiently striking and impressive, but
this contrast gave redoubled effect to their stern features.