AT the risk of being tedious, I will tell of one more day's buffalo hunting, to show the vicissitudes of this kind of sport. Before doing so we will glance at another important feature of prairie life, a camp of Sioux Indians.
One evening, after halting on the banks of the Platte, we heard distant sounds of tomtoms on the other side of the river. Jim, the half-breed, and Louis differed as to the tribe, and hence the friendliness or hostility, of our neighbours. Louis advised saddling up and putting the night between us; he regaled us to boot with a few blood-curdling tales of Indian tortures, and of NOUS AUTRES EN HAUT. Jim treated these with scorn, and declared he knew by the 'tunes'
(!) that the pow-wow was Sioux. Just now, he asserted, the Sioux were friendly, and this 'village' was on its way to Fort Laramie to barter 'robes' (buffalo skins) for blankets and ammunition. He was quite willing to go over and talk to them if we had no objection.
Fred, ever ready for adventure, would have joined him in a minute; but the river, which was running strong, was full of nasty currents, and his injured knee disabled him from swimming. No one else seemed tempted; so, following Jim's example, I stripped to my flannel shirt and moccasins, and crossed the river, which was easier to get into than out of, and soon reached the 'village.' Jim was right, - they were Sioux, and friendly. They offered us a pipe of kinik (the dried bark of the red willow), and jabbered away with their kinsman, who seemed almost more at home with them than with us.
Seeing one of their 'braves' with three fresh scalps at his belt, I asked for the history of them. In Sioux gutturals the story was a long one. Jim's translation amounted to this: The scalps were 'lifted' from two Crows and a Ponkaw.
The Crows, it appeared, were the Sioux' natural enemies 'anyhow,' for they occasionally hunted on each other's ranges. But the Ponkaw, whom he would not otherwise have injured, was casually met by him on a horse which the Sioux recognised for a white man's. Upon being questioned how he came by it, the Ponkaw simply replied that it was his own.
Whereupon the Sioux called him a liar; and proved it by sending an arrow through his body.
I didn't quite see it. But then, strictly speaking, I am no collector of scalps. To preserve my own, I kept the hair on it as short as a tooth-brush.
Before we left, our hosts fed us on raw buffalo meat. This, cut in slices, and dried crisp in the sun, is excellent.
Their lodges were very comfortable, most of them large enough to hold a dozen people. The ground inside was covered with buffalo robes; and the sewn skins, spread tight upon the converging poles, formed a tent stout enough to defy all weathers. In winter the lodge can be entirely closed; and when a fire is kindled in the centre, the smoke escaping at a small hole where the poles join, the snugness is complete.
At the entrance of one of these lodges I watched a squaw and her child prepare a meal. When the fuel was collected, a fat puppy, playing with the child, was seized by the squaw, and knocked on the throat - not head - with a stick. The puppy was then returned, kicking, to the tender mercies of the infant; who exerted its small might to add to the animal's miseries, while the mother fed the fire and filled a kettle for the stew. The puppy, much more alive than dead, was held by the hind leg over the flames as long as the squaw's fingers could stand them. She then let it fall on the embers, where it struggled and squealed horribly, and would have wriggled off, but for the little savage, who took good care to provide for the satisfactory singeing of its playmate.
Considering the length of its lineage, how remarkably hale and well preserved is our own barbarity!
We may now take our last look at the buffaloes, for we shall see them no more. Again I quote my journal:
'JULY 5TH. - Men sulky because they have nothing to eat but rancid ham, and biscuit dust which has been so often soaked that it is mouldy and sour. They are a dainty lot! Samson and I left camp early with the hopes of getting meat. While he was shooting prairie dogs his horse made off, and cost me nearly an hour's riding to catch. Then, accidentally letting go of my mustang, he too escaped; and I had to run him down with the other. Towards evening, spied a small band of buffaloes, which we approached by leading our horses up a hollow. They got our wind, however, and were gone before we were aware of it. They were all young, and so fast, it took a twenty minutes' gallop to come up with them. Samson's horse put his foot in a hole, and the cropper they both got gave the band a long start, as it became a stern chase, and no heading off.
