But suddenly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner apartment: "Pierre! Pierre! Let that fat meat alone! Take nothing but lean!" Pierre dropped his lantern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, that the devil was in the storeroom; but tripping on the threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay senseless, stunned by the fall.The Canadians ran out to the rescue.Some lifted the unlucky Pierre; and others, making an extempore crucifix out of two sticks, were proceeding to attack the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with a crest-fallen countenance, appeared at the door.To add to the bourgeois'
mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in order to bring the latter to his senses.
We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way between the gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May.These two men, together with our sleek friend, the clerk Montalon, were, Ibelieve, the only persons then in the fort who could read and write.
May was telling a curious story about the traveler Catlin, when an ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, and rode past us into the fort.On being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close at hand.Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before the hills beyond the river were covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horseback and on foot.May finished his story; and by that time the whole array had descended to Laramie Creek, and commenced crossing it in a mass.I walked down to the bank.The stream is wide, and was then between three and four feet deep, with a very swift current.For several rods the water was alive with dogs, horses, and Indians.The long poles used in erecting the lodges are carried by the horses, being fastened by the heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude sort of pack saddle, while the other end drags on the ground.About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier is suspended between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place on the back of the horse are piled various articles of luggage; the basket also is well filled with domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of puppies, a brood of small children, or a superannuated old man.Numbers of these curious vehicles, called, in the bastard language of the country travaux were now splashing together through the stream.
Among them swam countless dogs, often burdened with miniature travaux; and dashing forward on horseback through the throng came the superbly formed warriors, the slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy, clinging fast behind them.The women sat perched on the pack saddles, adding not a little to the load of the already overburdened horses.The confusion was prodigious.The dogs yelled and howled in chorus; the puppies in the travaux set up a dismal whine as the water invaded their comfortable retreat; the little black-eyed children, from one year of age upward, clung fast with both hands to the edge of their basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rushing so near them, sputtering and making wry mouths as it splashed against their faces.Some of the dogs, encumbered by their loads, were carried down by the current, yelping piteously; and the old squaws would rush into the water, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them out.As each horse gained the bank, he scrambled up as he could.Stray horses and colts came among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through the crowd, followed by the old hags, screaming after their fashion on all occasions of excitement.Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the charms of vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, holding aloft their master's lance, as a signal to collect the scattered portions of his household.In a few moments the crowd melted away; each family, with its horses and equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of the fort; and here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty or seventy of their tapering lodges.Their horses were feeding by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and their dogs were roaming everywhere.The fort was full of men, and the children were whooping and yelling incessantly under the walls.
These newcomers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux was running across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his spyglass.
The obedient Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeaux hurried with it up to the wall.Pointing it to the eastward, he exclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming.But a few moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing from the hills.
They gained the river, and without turning or pausing plunged in;they passed through, and slowly ascending the opposing bank, kept directly on their way past the fort and the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a circle.For some time our tranquillity was undisturbed.The emigrants were preparing their encampment; but no sooner was this accomplished than Fort Laramie was fairly taken by storm.A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, and staring eyes appeared suddenly at the gate.Tall awkward men, in brown homespun; women with cadaverous faces and long lank figures came thronging in together, and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity, ransacked every nook and corner of the fort.Dismayed at this invasion, we withdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove an inviolable sanctuary.The emigrants prosecuted their investigations with untiring vigor.They penetrated the rooms or rather dens, inhabited by the astonished squaws.They explored the apartments of the men, and even that of Marie and the bourgeois.At last a numerous deputation appeared at our door, but were immediately expelled.Being totally devoid of any sense of delicacy or propriety, they seemed resolved to search every mystery to the bottom.
