BUFFALO!
Before dawn had broken, the clear bugle notes of reveille sounded and
set the camp astir. Presently the smokes of the cook fires arose, and in
the gray light we could see the horse-guards bringing in the mounts. By
the time the sun was faintly tinging the edge of the valley we were
drawn up for hot coffee and the plain fare of the prairies. A half hour
later the wagon masters called "Roll out! Roll out!" The bugles again
sounded for the troopers to take saddle, and we were under way once
more.
Thus far we had seen very little game in our westward journeying, a few
antelope and occasional wolves, but none of the herds of buffalo which
then roamed the Western plains. The monotony of our travel was to be
broken now. We had hardly gone five miles beyond the ruined station
house--which we passed at a trot, so that none might know what had
happened there--when we saw our advance men pull up and raise their
hands. We caught it also--the sound of approaching hoofs, and all joined
in the cry, "Buffalo! Buffalo!" In an instant every horseman was
pressing forward.
The thunderous rolling sound approached, heavy as that of artillery
going into action. We saw dust arise from the mouth of a little draw on
the left, running down toward the valley, and even as we turned there
came rolling from its mouth, with the noise of a tornado and the might
of a mountain torrent, a vast, confused, dark mass, which rapidly
spilled out across the valley ahead of us. Half hid in the dust of their
going, we could see great dark bulks rolling and tossing. Thus it was,
and close at hand, that I saw for the first time in my life these huge
creatures whose mission seemed to have been to support an uncivilized
people, and to make possible the holding by another race of those lands
late held as savage harvest grounds.
We were almost at the flanks of the herd before they reached the river
bank. We were among them when they paused stupidly, for some reason not
wishing to cross the stream. The front ranks rolled back upon those
behind, which, crowded from the rear, resisted. The whole front of the
mass wrinkled up mightily, dark humps arising in some places two or
three deep. Then the entire mass sensed the danger all at once, and with
as much unanimity as they had lacked concert in their late confusion,
they wheeled front and rear, and rolled off up the valley, still
enveloped in a cloud of white, biting dust.
In such a chase speed and courage of one's horse are the main
essentials. My horse, luckily for me, was able to lay me alongside my
game within a few hundred yards. I coursed close to a big black bull
and, obeying injunctions old Auberry had often given me, did not touch
the trigger until I found I was holding well forward and rather low. I
could scarcely hear the crack of the rifle, such was the noise of hoofs,
but I saw the bull switch his tail and push on as though unhurt, in
spite of the trickle of red which sprung on his flank. As I followed
on, fumbling for a pistol at my holster, the bull suddenly turned, head
down and tail stiffly erect, his mane bristling. My horse sprang aside,
and the herd passed on. The old bull, his head lowered, presently
stopped, deliberately eying us, and a moment later he deliberately lay
down, presently sinking lower, and at length rolled over dead.
I got down, fastening my horse to one of the horns of the dead bull. As
I looked up the valley, I could see others dismounted, and many vast
dark blotches on the gray. Here and there, where the pursuers still hung
on, blue smoke was cutting through the white. Certainly we would have
meat that day, enough and far more than enough. The valley was full of
carcasses, product of the wasteful white man's hunting. Later I learned
that old Mandy, riding a mule astride, had made the run and killed a
buffalo with her own rifle!
I found the great weight of the bull difficult to turn, but at length I
hooked one horn into the ground, and laying hold of the lower hind leg,
I actually turned the carcass on its back. I was busy skinning when my
old friend Auberry rode up.
"That's the first time I ever saw a bull die on his back," said he.
"He did not die on his back," I replied. "I turned him over."
"You did--and alone? It's rarely a single man could do that, nor have I
seen it done in all my life with so big a bull."
I laughed at him. "It was easy. My father and I once lifted a loaded
wagon out of the mud."
"The Indians," said Auberry, "don't bother to turn a bull over. They
split the hide down the back, and skin both ways. The best meat is on
top, anyhow"; and then he gave me lessons in buffalo values, which later
I remembered.
We had taken some meat from my bull, since I insisted upon it in spite
of better beef from a young cow Auberry had killed not far above, when
suddenly I heard the sound of a bugle, sharp and clear, and recognized
the notes of the "recall." The sergeant of our troop, with a small
number who did not care to hunt, had been left behind by Belknap's
hurried orders. Again and again we heard the bugle call, and now at once
saw coming down the valley the men of our little command.
"What's up?" inquired Auberry, as we pulled up our galloping horses near
the wagon line.
"Indians!" was the answer. "Fall in!" In a moment most of our men were
gathered at the wagon line, and like magic the scene changed.
We could all now see coming down from a little flattened coulee to the
left, a head of a line of mounted men, who doubtless had been the cause
of the buffalo stampede which had crossed in front of us. The shouts of
teamsters and the crack of whips punctuated the crunch of wheels as our
wagons swiftly swung again into stockade. The ambulance was hurriedly
driven into the center of the heavier wagons, which formed in a rude
half circle.
After all, there seemed no immediate danger. The column of the tribesmen
came on toward us fearlessly, as though they neither dreaded us nor
indeed recognized us. They made a long calvacade, two hundred horses or
more, with many travaux and dogs trailing on behind. They were all clad
in their native finery, seemingly hearty and well fed, and each as
arrogant as a king. They passed us contemptuously, with not a sidelong
glance.
In advance of the head men who rode foremost in the column were three or
four young women, bearing long lance shafts decorated with feathers and
locks of human hair, the steel tips shining gray in the sun. These young
women, perhaps not squires or heralds of the tribe, but wives of one or
more of the head men, were decorated with brass and beads and shining
things, their hair covered with gauds, their black eyes shining too,
though directed straight ahead. Their garb was of tanned leather, the
tunics or dresses were of elk skin, and the white leggins of antelope
hide or that of mountain sheep. Their buffalo hide moccasins were
handsomely beaded and stained. As they passed, followed by the long
train of stalwart savage figures, they made a spectacle strange and
savage, but surely not less than impressive.
Not a word was spoken on either side. The course of their column took
them to the edge of the water a short distance above us. They drove
their horses down to drink scrambled up the bank again, and then
presently, in answer to some sort of signal, quietly rode on a quarter
of a mile or so and pulled up at the side of the valley. They saw
abundance of meat lying there already killed, and perhaps guessed that
we could not use all of it.
"Auberry," said Belknap, "we must go talk to these people, and see
what's up."
"They're Sioux!" said Auberry. "Like enough the very devils that cleaned
out the station down there. But come on; they don't mean fight right
now."
Belknap and Auberry took with them the sergeant and a dozen troopers. I
pushed in with these, and saw Orme at my side; and Belknap did not send
us back. We four rode on together presently. Two or three hundred yards
from the place where the Indians halted, Auberry told Belknap to halt
his men. We four, with one private to hold our horses, rode forward a
hundred yards farther, halted and raised our hands in sign of peace.
There rode out to us four of the head men of the Sioux, beautifully
dressed, each a stalwart man. We dismounted, laid down our weapons on
the ground, and approached each other.
"Watch them close, boys," whispered Auberry. "They've got plenty of
irons around them somewhere, and plenty of scalps, too, maybe."
"Talk to them, Auberry," said Belknap; and as the former was the only
one of us who understood the Sioux tongue, he acted as interpreter.
"What are the Sioux doing so far east?" he asked of their spokesman,
sternly.
"Hunting," answered the Sioux, as Auberry informed us. "The white
soldiers drive away our buffalo. The white men kill too many. Let them
go. This is our country." It seemed to me I could see the black eyes of
the Sioux boring straight through every one of us, glittering, not in
the least afraid.
"Go back to the north and west, where you belong," said Auberry. "You
have no business here on the wagon trails."
"The Sioux hunt where they please," was the grim answer. "But you see we
have our women and children with us, the same as you have--and he
pointed toward our camp, doubtless knowing the personnel of our party as
well as we did ourselves.
"Where are you going?" asked our interpreter.
The Sioux waved his arm vaguely. "Heap hunt," he said, in broken English
now. "Where you go?" he asked, in return.
Auberry was also a diplomat, and answered that we were going a half
sleep to the west, to meet a big war party coming down the Platte, the
white men from Laramie.
The Indian looked grave at this. "Is that so?" he asked, calmly. "I had
not any word from my young men about a war party coming down the river.
Many white tepees on wheels going up the river; no soldiers coming down
this way."
"We are going on up to meet our soldiers," said Auberry, sternly. "The
Sioux have killed some of our men below here. We shall meet our soldiers
and come and wipe the Sioux off the land if they come into the valley
where our great road runs west."
"That is good," said the Sioux. "As for us, we harm no white man. We
hunt where we please. White men go!"
Auberry now turned to us. "I don't think they mean trouble, Lieutenant,"
he said, "and I think the best thing we can do is to let them alone and
go on up the valley. Let's go on and pull on straight by them, the way
they did us, and call it a draw all around."
Belknap nodded, and Auberry turned again to the four Sioux, who stood
tall and motionless, looking at us with the same fixed, glittering eyes.
I shall remember the actors in that little scene so long as I live.
"We have spoken," said Auberry. "That is all we have to say."
Both parties turned and went back to their companions. Belknap, Auberry
and I had nearly reached our waiting troopers, when we missed Orme, and
turned back to see where he was. He was standing close to the four
chiefs, who had by this time reached their horses. Orme was leading by
the bridle his own horse, which was slightly lame from a strain received
in the hunt.
"Some buck'll slip an arrer into him, if he don't look out," said
Auberry. "He's got no business out there."
We saw Orme making some sort of gestures, pointing to his horse and the
others.
"Wonder if he wants to trade horses!" mused Auberry, chuckling. Then in
the same breath he called, "Look out! By God! Look!"
We all saw it. Orme's arm shot out straight, tipped by a blue puff of
smoke, and we heard the crack of the dragoon pistol. One of the Sioux,
the chief who by this time had mounted his horse, threw his hand against
his chest and leaned slightly back, then straightened up slightly as he
sat. As he fell, or before he fell, Orme pushed his body clear from the
saddle, and with a leap was in the dead man's place and riding swiftly
toward us, leading his own horse by the rein!
It seemed that it was the Sioux who had kept faith after all; for none
of the remaining three could find a weapon. Orme rode up laughing and
unconcerned. "The beggar wouldn't trade with me at all," he said. "By
Jove, I believe he'd have got me if he'd had any sort of tools for it."
"You broke treaty!" ejaculated Belknap--"you broke the council word."
"Did that man make the first break at you?" Auberry blazed at him.
"How can I tell?" answered Orme, coolly. "It's well to be a trifle ahead
in such matters." He seemed utterly unconcerned. He could kill a man as
lightly as a rabbit, and think no more about it.
Within the instant the entire party of the Sioux was in confusion. We
saw them running about, mounting, heard them shouting and wailing.
"It's fight now!" said Auberry. "Back to the wagons now and get your men
ready, Lieutenant. As soon as the Sioux can get shut of their women,
they'll come on, and come a boilin', too. You damned fool!" he said to
Orme. "You murdered that man!"
"What's that, my good fellow?" said Orme, sharply. "Now I advise you to
keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll teach you some manners."
Even as we swung and rode back, Auberry pushed alongside Orme, his rifle
at ready. "By God! man, if you want to teach _me_ any manners, begin it
now. You make your break," he cried.
Belknap spurred in between them. "Here, you men," he commanded with
swift sternness. "Into your places. I'm in command here, and I'll shoot
the first man who raises a hand. Mr. Orme, take your place at the
wagons. Auberry, keep with me. We'll have fighting enough without
anything of this."
"He murdered that Sioux, Lieutenant," reiterated Auberry.
"Damn it, sir, I know he did, but this is no time to argue about that.
Look there!"
A long, ragged, parti-colored line, made up of the squaws and children
of the party, was whipping up the sides of the rough bluffs on the left
of the valley. We heard wailing, the barking of dogs, the crying of
children. We saw the Sioux separate thus into two bands, the men
remaining behind riding back and forth, whooping and holding aloft their
weapons. We heard the note of a dull war drum beating the clacking of
their rattles and the shrill notes of their war whistles.
"They'll fight," said Auberry. "Look at 'em!"
"Here they come," said Belknap, coolly. "Get down, men."
[Illustration: AT EVERY TURN FORCED TO HIDE THEIR TRACKS]