CHAPTER XXI. THE CAMP MOVES.
It was two or three days after the conclusion of the ceremonies of the Medicine Lodge, when Jack, walking through the camp one morning, found himself face to face with Hezekiah. The negro had discarded the feather which he wore in his head when Jack had seen him last, and he was now clad in leggings, a much worn cotton shirt and moccasins. He knew Jack at once and came up to him, shaking his hand most cordially.
"Well," said he, "Master Jack, you got here all right, didn't you? Hope you didn't have no trouble on your way up. Didn't get captured by nobody else, did you?"
"No," said Jack, laughing, "we got pretty well scared after you left us, and came near running onto two or three Indian camps, but we got around them without being discovered and had no trouble at all. Hugh was saying," he went on, "that you Piegans would be mighty sorry you hadn't stayed with us, when we were travelling around among those camps, south of the Yellowstone. We didn't want anything of the people, but Hugh said that the war party would have given anything to have had such a chance to take horses."
"Bad luck," said Hezekiah, "we didn't see no enemies, and didn't make no war and just came trailing in yesterday afternoon not having done nothing at all. I hear, though, that you done yourself mighty proud, Master Jack. The Indians were telling me last night that you killed an enemy that was trying to take horses from Fox Eye's camp, over to Grassy Lakes, and that after you killed him you counted coup on him. That was fine thing for you to have done, and all your friends are proud of you.
"I don't know whether you know it, Master Jack, but you've got lots of friends in this camp; people here think a whole lot of you. First they like you because you kinder belong to the old man, and then, because you saved Little Plume's daughter from getting drownded, and now, because you have shown that you're brave, even if you are so young and haven't been long on the prairie."
"Well, Hezekiah, I am mighty glad to hear you say that. I expect anybody is glad if people like him, I know I am. Everybody in the camp is always kind and pleasant and smiling, they don't seem like the Indians I have always read about. Those were always solemn and silent and gruff, and didn't do anything but grunt; but those people here are just as pleasant as they can be and always laughing and joking, and doing kind things; I tell you they are as nice people as I ever want to be with."
"Oh yes, they're good people, Master Jack," said Hezekiah, "I like 'em right well. Master Jack," he went on, "would you mind coming over to my lodge? I'd like to have you see my wife and my babies. I've got a nice family, sir! My wife, she is old Lone Person's girl; he is a chief of one of the bands, you know; quite a great man."
"Why, sure, I'll go, Hezekiah," said Jack; and the two walked over to a large lodge not far off.
Jack found Hezekiah's wife a neat pleasant-faced young woman, and the lodge was kept in very good order. Three odd little children, perfect negroes in appearance, were playing about close at hand, and a tiny baby with great rolling eyes and tightly curling hair, was strapped to a board and swinging to one of the lodge poles.
After some conversation, Hezekiah hinted somewhat diffidently, that he would be glad if Jack would eat with them, and Jack was very ready to accept the invitation, which seemed to please both Hezekiah and his wife. Jack passed a good part of the afternoon in the lodge, and when at last he left it, made up his mind that he would try to see something of Hezekiah in the future.
One afternoon, not very long after the Medicine Lodge was over, Jack was sitting in front of the lodge with Hugh, when he heard the distant voice of the camp crier shouting out the news, as he rode about the circle of the lodges. He listened for a while, and as the man drew nearer and the sounds which he uttered grew more distinct, Jack turned to Hugh and asked him what the old man was saying.
"Hold on a minute," said Hugh, "wait till he gets closer, I can't just hear all he says, but it is something about moving the camp, and buffalo. I guess likely they are going to start." Presently, he added, "Yes, this is what he says: 'Listen, listen, everybody pay attention. To-morrow the camp will move. All the lodges must be taken down early. Everybody must pack up soon after sunrise. The camp will move toward the Sweet Grass Hills. You men, get your horses close. You women, pack up your things to-night, the chiefs have ordered to start early. Listen, listen, everybody pay attention.'"
"Well," said Jack, "I am glad they are going. We have been here a long time now, and I'll be glad to get out on the prairie again, and glad to see the Indians chase buffalo. They'll do that, won't they, Hugh, when they get into the buffalo country?"
"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "that's the only way they kill buffalo, except now and then when they find one or two old bulls off by themselves, when they sometimes creep up to one, and kill him that way; but whenever they want to make a big killing, to get meat and lodge skins for everybody, then they chase 'em."
"Well, Hugh," said Jack, "how shall we do when the camp moves? Just pack our animals and travel along with them?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "I guess we may as well pack our animals, and then we'll let the old man's women drive them. They'd be glad to pack them too, but I'm afraid if they did, that first thing we knew, some of them horses would get a sore back, and I don't want that to happen. You see, likely as not, we've got to travel down South with these horses again, and I mean to keep them in good order, so that they'll serve us while going, just as they did when we came up here."
"Why," said Jack, "it doesn't seem to me as if we ought to let the women pack the horses, that's man's work. Ain't it, Hugh?"
"No," said Hugh, "not among Indians. Man's work, in an Indian camp, is to kill meat for food, and skins for clothing, and to go to war, so's to get rich and to make people think well of himself and his family, and to defend the camp. The woman's work is to look out for the lodge, to take care of the children, to make the clothing and to see to the moving of the camp. It ain't so very different, you see, from what it is among white folks. Take it among Indians, a man's business is hunting, and going to war. White men hunt for fun, but Indians don't. Indians hunt, so that they can live, just the same as any man in the States goes to his store in the morning, and sells things all day so as to earn money to support his family."
"Why no," said Jack, "it ain't so very different from what the white man and the white woman do. Is it?"
"Not very," said Hugh. "Now, I'll tell you, son," he went on, "let's pack up most all our truck to-night, and get the packs ready to put on the horses in the morning. Our horses will be driven in with the old man's, and we can catch them and pack them, and leave them here for the women to drive on with theirs, and then we can either go ahead with the soldiers, or if you like, you can stop in the camp, and see them take down everything and begin to move."
"I think I'd rather stay here and see them move, Hugh," said Jack. "But what do you mean by the soldiers?"
"Why, the soldiers," said Hugh, "are sort of constables like. I thought I'd told you about them. They're young men that are going to war all the time, and they're the ones that see that the orders given by the chiefs are obeyed. It is like this; if there was any man to-morrow morning, who said he was not going to move, and whose lodge was not taken down, the soldiers would go to him and if he were obstinate, just as like as not they'd give him a good licking with their quirts. If he still refused to go with the camp, they might tear down his lodge, break the lodge poles and even cut the lodge-skins to pieces. It is a pretty serious matter you see, to disobey the chief's orders, and really, 'tisn't ever done."
After supper that night, Joe came to the lodge, and after a little talk said to Jack, "Isn't this great, that we are going to move and going to chase buffalo?"
"You bet it is great," said Jack. "You know I've never seen a buffalo chase, and I've always thought it must be a fine thing to see."
"I tell you," said Joe; "after they kill plenty of buffalo, everybody is glad. All through the camp they put up the drying scaffolds, and as the meat is brought in, they cut it into thin slices and hang it over the poles, and for a little while it looks as if red cloth was stretched all through the camp. Of course, after two or three hours, it gets dry and brown, but when it is first put up, it is real pretty I tell you."
"Well," said Jack, "I hope I'll see that. You can't think, Joe, how much I want to find out everything about the Indians. Everything that they do, and say, and think, is so different from anything I've ever seen before, that it just makes me pretty near crazy when I think what a chance I've got here, and how little I've learned yet."
"Oh well," said Joe, "you'll know a heap before you go away, but I don't want you to know everything, because, then maybe you'd never come back. Suppose you go away this Fall, not knowing everything, maybe you'll come back next Spring to learn the rest."
"Well," said Jack, "I can't think of any better fun than to do just that." After a minute he went on, "You've killed buffalo, Joe?"
"Yes," said Joe, "a few, not many. I haven't got a good running horse, and so I never killed many chasing them. It takes a pretty good horse to catch a cow. You've got two."
"Well," said Jack, "I'll tell you what I'll do, the first chase we have, I'll let you ride my new horse, and I'll ride Pawnee; then maybe we'll both have good luck."
"That'll be good," said Joe. "Suppose I ride that new horse, I'm pretty sure to have good luck."
"Look here, son," broke in Hugh, who had been sitting near them, "you'll want to have a lesson in buffalo running before you try it the first time. There's some things that a greenhorn has got to be told. Now, when you start to chase buffalo, you must ride right up close to the animal you are trying to kill. You'll never kill any buffalo if you are afraid of them. Ride right up within two or three yards of a cow, and when you are about even with her hips, shoot at her, and try to hit her in the heart. You must remember what I've told you so many times, that you have got to shoot low down to kill any animal, but at a buffalo, with its big hump, you've got to shoot lower down than most anything else. That's the great trouble most men have when they hunt buffalo the first time, they shoot too high, and the ball goes through the meat and don't hurt the buffalo a bit. If you'll remember those two things, to get up close, and to shoot low down, you won't have any trouble about killing your buffalo."
The next morning when Jack looked out of the lodge, a great change had come over the camp. Many places, where lodges had stood the night before, were now vacant. In other places only the conical frame work of poles was seen, and in others the women were just pulling away the lodge skins, or in some cases were standing on a travois which leaned against the lodge, and were unpinning its front. The camp was full of horses, many of them tied to pins or bundles of baggage, or to travois, but many others were roaming loose through the circle. Jack had never before seen all the horses of the camp gathered together, and was astonished at their numbers. All about the circle were piles of robes, bundles, saddles, cooking utensils, and other property which the women were gathering together, tying up, packing on the horses, or loading on the travois.
The scene was one of great activity, and the work that was being done was not conducted in silence. There were colts that had lost their mothers and were screaming shrilly, and mares were neighing for their missing colts. The camp dogs were in a state of high excitement, and were barking or howling, or got in people's way, and when kicked out of it, yelped dolefully. The little boys, who swarmed through the circle, were shouting, whooping, running races and wrestling. The women, worried by the labour of packing and of looking after their children and their horses, called to each other with high pitched voices, and many of the babies missing their mother's attention, added their cries to the babel which prevailed.
Jack watched the scene for a little while, and then going back into the lodge, said, "Well, Hugh, I never expected to hear so much noise in this camp as there is this morning. Will they ever quiet down again? This isn't very much like the camp we have been in for the last three weeks."
"No," said Hugh, "the first day that camp is broken after a long stop in any one place, they make quite a racket. You'll see, though, that when they move to-morrow, things will go a good deal more smoothly. Now, as soon as we've finished eating," he went on, "let's catch up our horses and pack them, and tie them up here with old John's. Then I'm going on ahead with the old men, and if you want to, you can stop here as long as you like; only, if I were you, I wouldn't wander away from the column very much. You see, now we are going out on to the prairie, where there is more danger of meeting enemies, and I wouldn't go off alone at all. Get Joe to go with you, or go with some little party of two or three men, or ask me and I'll ride with you wherever you want me to."
"All right," said Jack, "I'll remember. I've seen enemies enough for a little while, and I don't want to run onto any more of 'em."
It did not take them long to catch and pack their horses. Jack tied up his new riding-horse with the pack-animals, and John Monroe's wife said that she would see that they were all driven on. Then Hugh started off to join the head of the column which had already begun to cross the river, while Jack mounted Pawnee, and rode about through the camp. It was very amusing to him to watch the various operations that were going on. Women were constantly completing the work of packing and starting off with their families, to follow those who had gone on before, so that there was a continuous stream of people heading toward the river, entering it, crossing and clambering out on the other side. The trail climbed a steep bluff there, and the long line of people that followed it, made Jack think of a brightly coloured serpent slowly making its way up the hillside.
At last he tired of the scenes of the camp, and riding to the river, joined the procession that was crossing it. Once on the other side, he turned Pawnee out of the trail, and rode on rapidly toward the head of the column where he joined Hugh. Twenty-five or thirty old and middle-aged men were in the lead, and behind them rode more than a hundred young men on fine horses, handsomely dressed, and well armed. A few of them carried rifles; many others double-barrel shot-guns, but a great many were provided only with bows and arrows which they now carried in cases on their backs.
"Oh! Hugh," said Jack, as he rode up, "are these young men here the soldiers?"
"Yes," said Hugh, "they're the soldiers. They all belong to one of the secret societies, the Mŭt'siks, that means brave. As I was saying to you last night, if the chiefs want anything done they tell these young fellows to have it done. There's quite a long story about these different secret societies, and some night when we have plenty of time, we'll have to get some of the old men to tell us these stories. You see, usually, they don't talk much about these things to white folks, but I've heard 'most all the stories, and likely they wouldn't mind telling them to you. You see, one reason an Indian don't like to talk about sacred things to white men, is, that he's afraid the white man will laugh at him, but of course they know you wouldn't do that any more than I would."
"I should think not," said Jack, "I'd be so pleased to hear anything that they were willing to tell me, that I don't think I'd laugh at it even if it were real funny."
"No," said Hugh, "of course you oughtn't to. Of course, some of these things that the Indians believe sound ridiculous to us white folks, but they're mighty real to them, and they believe in them just as we believe in a whole lot of things that likely would sound mighty ridiculous to them. Some of them bible stories for example. You couldn't get an Indian to believe them, and yet white folks think it's all so."
"You mean the miracles?" said Jack.
"Yes, I expect that's it."
After a little pause Jack asked Hugh, "What are those men doing that I see crossing the hills ahead of us, Hugh?"
"Why," said Hugh, "those are young men and boys that are out hunting through the brush to kill anything that's there before the camp gets along, and scares everything. We're likely to stop before we've gone much further, and to wait for the column to close up. Then those young fellows will get quite a-ways ahead. Of course, they'll kill any game that they might come across, and then too, they will scout the country for any enemies that might be about."
Hugh had hardly stopped speaking, when the old men drew in their horses, and dismounting, sat down in a circle on the ground, and the soldiers too got off their horses and the people behind them stopped. Pipes were filled and were passed from hand to hand. "What are they waiting for, Hugh?" said Jack.
"Why, you see, son," said the old man, "there's always a lot of people that are late leaving the camp, and they have stopped here to let such people catch up, so that the column won't be scattered out too far. Sometimes it happens if they straggle too much, that a little war party may dash down onto the column, and kill two or three women and then ride off again before anybody can get near enough to punish them."
After half an hour's rest, the march was taken up again and before long, the last hill was climbed, and the camp moved forward along an open ridge that led toward the prairie. From time to time the trail passed through scattering patches of aspen or through a point of pine timber running down from the mountains, but by the middle of the afternoon, they had left the mountains well behind them, and a little later, they camped in the open valley of a branch of the Milk River. It surprised Jack to see how speedily the lodges were erected and how short a time it took this unorganized mob of people to settle down into the ordinary routine of camp life.
For several days the village moved eastward, crossing the Milk River, and at last, one night, they camped near the base of the Sweet Grass Hills. Ever since leaving the mountains, buffalo had been in sight. At first only an occasional individual, then small groups of three or four bulls, later little herds. But here, at the base of the Sweet Grass Hills, they were abundant, and from an elevation the prairie was seen to be dotted with them, almost as far as the eye could reach. On the march a few buffalo had been killed by men who had stolen up to them quietly; but no one had chased buffalo, for the chiefs had given strict orders against it.