CHAPTER VIII.
Dick and his friends visit the Indians and see many
wonders--Crusoe, too, experiences a few surprises, and teaches
Indian dogs a lesson--An Indian dandy--A foot-race.
The Pawnee village, at which they soon arrived, was
situated in the midst of a most interesting and
picturesque scene.
It occupied an extensive plain which sloped gently
down to a creek,[*] whose winding course was marked
by a broken line of wood, here and there interspersed
with a fine clump of trees, between the trunks of which
the blue waters of a lake sparkled in the distance.
Hundreds of tents or "lodges" of buffalo-skins covered
the ground, and thousands of Indians--men, women,
and children--moved about the busy scene. Some
were sitting in their lodges, lazily smoking their pipes.
But these were chiefly old and infirm veterans, for all
the young men had gone to the hunt which we have just
described. The women were stooping over their fires,
busily preparing maize and meat for their husbands
and brothers; while myriads of little brown and naked
children romped about everywhere, filling the air with
their yells and screams, which were only equalled, if not
surpassed, by the yelping dogs that seemed innumerable.
[Footnote *: In America small rivers or rivulets are termed "creeks.">[
Far as the eye could reach were seen scattered herds
of horses. These were tended by little boys who were
totally destitute of clothing, and who seemed to enjoy
with infinite zest the pastime of shooting-practice with
little bows and arrows. No wonder that these Indians
become expert bowmen. There were urchins there,
scarce two feet high, with round bullets of bodies and
short spindle-shanks, who could knock blackbirds off
the trees at every shot, and cut the heads off the taller
flowers with perfect certainty! There was much need,
too, for the utmost proficiency they could attain, for the
very existence of the Indian tribes of the prairies depends
on their success in hunting the buffalo.
There are hundreds and thousands of North American
savages who would undoubtedly perish, and their tribes
become extinct, if the buffaloes were to leave the prairies
or die out. Yet, although animals are absolutely essential
to their existence, they pursue and slay them with
improvident recklessness, sometimes killing hundreds of
them merely for the sake of the sport, the tongues, and
the marrow bones. In the bloody hunt described in the
last chapter, however, the slaughter of so many was not
wanton, because the village that had to be supplied with
food was large, and, just previous to the hunt, they had
been living on somewhat reduced allowance. Even the
blackbirds shot by the brown-bodied urchins before mentioned
had been thankfully put into the pot. Thus
precarious is the supply of food among the Red-men,
who on one day are starving, and the next are revelling
in superabundance.
But to return to our story. At one end of this village
the creek sprang over a ledge of rock in a low cascade
and opened out into a beautiful lake, the bosom
of which was studded with small islands. Here were
thousands of those smaller species of wild water-fowl
which were either too brave or too foolish to be scared
away by the noise of the camp. And here, too, dozens
of children were sporting on the beach, or paddling
about in their light bark canoes.
"Isn't it strange," remarked Dick to Henri, as they
passed among the tents towards the centre of the village--"isn't
it strange that them Injuns should be so
fond o' fightin', when they've got all they can want--a
fine country, lots o' buffalo, an', as far as I can see,
happy homes?"
"Oui, it is remarkaibel, vraiment. Bot dey do more
love war to peace. Dey loves to be excit-ed, I s'pose."
"Humph! One would think the hunt we seed a little
agone would be excitement enough. But, I say, that
must he the chiefs tent, by the look o't."
Dick was right. The horsemen pulled up and dismounted
opposite the principal chief's tent, which was
a larger and more elegant structure than the others.
Meanwhile an immense concourse of women, children,
and dogs gathered round the strangers, and while the
latter yelped their dislike to white men, the former
chattered continuously, as they discussed the appearance
of the strangers and their errand, which latter soon
became known. An end was put to this by San-it-sa-rish
desiring the hunters to enter the tent, and spreading
a buffalo robe for them to sit on. Two braves
carried in their packs, and then led away their horses.
All this time Crusoe had kept as close as possible to
his master's side, feeling extremely uncomfortable in the
midst of such a strange crowd, the more especially that
the ill-looking Indian curs gave him expressive looks
of hatred, and exhibited some desire to rush upon him
in a body, so that he had to keep a sharp look-out
all round him. When therefore Dick entered the tent,
Crusoe endeavoured to do so along with him; but he
was met by a blow on the nose from an old squaw, who
scolded him in a shrill voice and bade him begone.
Either our hero's knowledge of the Indian language
was insufficient to enable him to understand the order,
or he had resolved not to obey it, for instead of retreating,
he drew a deep gurgling breath, curled his nose,
and displayed a row of teeth that caused the old woman
to draw back in alarm. Crusoe's was a forgiving spirit.
The instant that opposition ceased he forgot the injury,
and was meekly advancing, when Dick held up his
finger.
"Go outside, pup, and wait."
Crusoe's tail drooped; with a deep sigh he turned
and left the tent. He took up a position near the entrance,
however, and sat down resignedly. So meek,
indeed, did the poor dog look that six mangy-looking
curs felt their dastardly hearts emboldened to make a
rush at him with boisterous yells.
Crusoe did not rise. He did not even condescend to
turn his head toward them; but he looked at them out
of the corner of his dark eye, wrinkled--very slightly--the
skin of his nose, exhibited two beautiful fangs,
and gave utterance to a soft remark, that might be described as quiet,
deep-toned gurgling. It wasn't much,
but it was more than enough for the valiant six, who
paused and snarled violently.
It was a peculiar trait of Crusoe's gentle nature that,
the moment any danger ceased, he resumed his expression
of nonchalant gravity. The expression on this
occasion was misunderstood, however; and as about two
dozen additional yelping dogs had joined the ranks of
the enemy, they advanced in close order to the attack.
Crusoe still sat quiet, and kept his head high; but he
looked
at them again, and exhibited four fangs for their
inspection. Among the pack there was one Indian dog
of large size--almost as large as Crusoe himself--which
kept well in the rear, and apparently urged the lesser
dogs on. The little dogs didn't object, for little dogs
are generally the most pugnacious. At this big dog
Crusoe directed a pointed glance, but said nothing.
Meanwhile a particularly small and vicious cur, with a
mere rag of a tail, crept round by the back of the tent,
and coming upon Crusoe in rear, snapped at his tail
sharply, and then fled shrieking with terror and surprise,
no doubt, at its own temerity.
Crusoe did not bark; he seldom barked; he usually
either said nothing, or gave utterance to a prolonged
roar of indignation of the most terrible character, with
barks, as it were, mingled through it. It somewhat
resembled that peculiar and well-known species of thunder,
the prolonged roll of which is marked at short
intervals in its course by cannon-like cracks. It was
a continuous, but, so to speak,
knotted
roar.
On receiving the snap, Crusoe gave forth
the
roar
with a majesty and power that scattered the pugnacious
front rank of the enemy to the winds. Those that still
remained, half stupified, he leaped over with a huge
bound, and alighted, fangs first, on the back of the big
dog. There was one hideous yell, a muffled scramble of
an instant's duration, and the big dog lay dead upon
the plain!
It was an awful thing to do, but Crusoe evidently
felt that the peculiar circumstances of the case required
that an example should be made; and to say truth, all
things considered, we cannot blame him. The news
must have been carried at once through the canine portion
of the camp, for Crusoe was never interfered with
again after that.
Dick witnessed this little incident; but he observed
that the Indian chief cared not a straw about it, and as
his dog returned quietly and sat down in its old place
he took no notice of it either, but continued to listen
to the explanations which Joe gave to the chief, of the
desire of the Pale-faces to be friends with the Red-men.
Joe's eloquence would have done little for him on
this occasion had his hands been empty, but he followed
it up by opening one of his packs and displaying the
glittering contents before the equally glittering eyes of
the chief and his squaws.
"These," said Joe, "are the gifts that the great chief
of the Pale-faces sends to the great chief of the Pawnees.
And he bids me say that there are many more things in
his stores which will be traded for skins with the Red-men,
when they visit him; and he also says that if the
Pawnees will not steal horses any more from the Pale-faces, they shall
receive gifts of knives, and guns, and
powder, and blankets every year."
"Wah!" grunted the chief; "it is good. The great
chief is wise. We will smoke the pipe of peace."
The things that afforded so much satisfaction to San-it-sa-rish
were the veriest trifles. Penny looking-glasses
in yellow gilt tin frames, beads of various colours, needles,
cheap scissors and knives, vermilion paint, and coarse
scarlet cloth, etc. They were of priceless value, however,
in the estimation of the savages, who delighted to
adorn themselves with leggings made from the cloth,
beautifully worked with beads by their own ingenious
women. They were thankful, too, for knives even of
the commonest description, having none but bone ones
of their own; and they gloried in daubing their faces
with intermingled streaks of charcoal and vermilion.
To gaze at their visages, when thus treated, in the little
penny looking-glasses is their summit of delight!
Joe presented the chief with a portion of these coveted
goods, and tied up the remainder. We may remark
here that the only thing which prevented the savages
from taking possession of the whole at once, without
asking permission, was the promise of the annual gifts,
which they knew would not be forthcoming were any
evil to befall the deputies of the Pale-faces. Nevertheless,
it cost them a severe struggle to restrain their
hands on this occasion, and Joe and his companions felt
that they would have to play their part well in order
to fulfil their mission with safety and credit.
"The Pale-faces may go now and talk with the
braves," said San-it-sa-rish, after carefully examining
everything that was given to him; "a council will be
called soon, and we will smoke the pipe of peace."
Accepting this permission to retire, the hunters immediately
left the tent; and being now at liberty to do
what they pleased, they amused themselves by wandering
about the village.
"He's a cute chap that," remarked Joe, with a sarcastic
smile; "I don't feel quite easy about gettin' away.
He'll bother the life out o' us to get all the goods we've
got, and, ye see, as we've other tribes to visit, we must
give away as little as we can here."
"Ha! you is right," said Henri; "dat fellow's eyes
twinkle at de knives and tings like two stars."
"Fire-flies, ye should say. Stars are too soft an'
beautiful to compare to the eyes o' yon savage," said
Dick, laughing. "I wish we were well away from
them. That rascal Mahtawa is an ugly customer."
"True, lad," returned Joe; "had
he
bin the great
chief our scalps had bin dryin' in the smoke o' a Pawnee
wigwam afore now. What now, lad?"
Joe's question was put in consequence of a gleeful
smile that overspread the countenance of Dick Varley,
who replied by pointing to a wigwam towards which
they were approaching.
"Oh! that's only a dandy," exclaimed Joe. "There's
lots o' them in every Injun camp. They're fit for
nothin' but dress, poor contemptible critters."
Joe accompanied his remark with a sneer, for of all
pitiable objects he regarded an unmanly man as the
most despicable. He consented, however, to sit down
on a grassy bank and watch the proceedings of this
Indian dandy, who had just seated himself in front of
his wigwam for the purpose of making his toilet.
He began it by greasing his whole person carefully
and smoothly over with buffalo fat, until he shone like
a patent leather boot; then he rubbed himself almost
dry, leaving the skin sleek and glossy. Having proceeded
thus far, he took up a small mirror, a few inches
in diameter, which he or some other member of the tribe
must have procured during one of their few excursions
to the trading-forts of the Pale-faces, and examined himself,
as well as he could, in so limited a space. Next,
he took a little vermilion from a small parcel and
rubbed it over his face until it presented the somewhat
demoniac appearance of a fiery red. He also drew a
broad red score along the crown of his head, which was
closely shaved, with the exception of the usual tuft or
scalplock on the top. This scalplock stood bristling
straight up a few inches, and then curved over and
hung down his back about two feet. Immense care and
attention was bestowed on this lock. He smoothed it,
greased it, and plaited it into the form of a pigtail.
Another application was here made to the glass, and the
result was evidently satisfactory, to judge from the
beaming smile that played on his features. But, not
content with the general effect, he tried the effect of
expression--frowned
portentously, scowled savagely, gaped
hideously, and grinned horribly a ghastly smile.
Then our dandy fitted into his ears, which were
bored in several places, sundry ornaments, such as rings,
wampum, etc., and hung several strings of beads round
his neck. Besides these he affixed one or two ornaments
to his arms, wrists, and ankles, and touched in a
few effects with vermilion on the shoulders and breast.
After this, and a few more glances at the glass, he put
on a pair of beautiful moccasins, which, besides being
richly wrought with beads, were soft as chamois leather
and fitted his feet like gloves. A pair of leggings of
scarlet cloth were drawn on, attached to a waist-belt,
and bound below the knee with broad garters of variegated
bead-work.
It was some time before this Adonis was quite satisfied
with himself. He retouched the paint on his shoulders
several times, and modified the glare of that on his
wide-mouthed, high-cheek-boned visage, before he could
tear himself away; but at last he did so, and throwing
a large piece of scarlet cloth over his shoulders, he thrust
his looking-glass under his belt, and proceeded to mount
his palfrey, which was held in readiness near to the
tent door by one of his wives. The horse was really a
fine animal, and seemed worthy of a more warlike
master. His shoulders, too, were striped with red paint,
and feathers were intertwined with his mane and tail, while
the bridle was decorated with various jingling ornaments.
Vaulting upon his steed, with a large fan of wild
goose and turkey feathers in one hand, and a whip
dangling at the wrist of the other, this incomparable
dandy sallied forth for a promenade--that being his
chief delight when there was no buffalo hunting to be
done. Other men who were not dandies sharpened
their knives, smoked, feasted, and mended their spears
and arrows at such seasons of leisure, or played at
athletic games.
"Let's follow my buck," said Joe Blunt.
"Oui. Come 'long," replied Henri, striding after the
rider at a pace that almost compelled his comrades
to run.
"Hold on!" cried Dick, laughing; "we don't want
to keep him company. A distant view is quite enough
o' sich a chap as that."
"Mais you forgit I cannot see far."
"So much the better," remarked Joe; "it's my
opinion we've seen enough o' him. Ah! he's goin' to
look on at the games. Them's worth lookin' at."
The games to which Joe referred were taking place
on a green level plain close to the creek, and a little
above the waterfall before referred to. Some of the
Indians were horse-racing, some jumping, and others
wrestling; but the game which proved most attractive
was throwing the javelin, in which several of the young
braves were engaged.
This game is played by two competitors, each armed
with a dart, in an arena about fifty yards long. One
of the players has a hoop of six inches in diameter.
At a signal they start off on foot at full speed, and on
reaching the middle of the arena the Indian with the
hoop rolls it along before them, and each does his best
to send a javelin through the hoop before the other.
He who succeeds counts so many points; if both miss,
the nearest to the hoop is allowed to count, but not so
much as if he had "ringed" it. The Indians are very
fond of this game, and will play at it under a broiling
sun for hours together. But a good deal of the interest
attaching to it is owing to the fact that they make it a
means of gambling. Indians are inveterate gamblers,
and will sometimes go on until they lose horses, bows,
blankets, robes, and, in short, their whole personal
property. The consequences are, as might be expected,
that fierce and bloody quarrels sometimes arise in which
life is often lost.
"Try your hand at that," said Henri to Dick.
"By all means," cried Dick, handing his rifle to his
friend, and springing into the ring enthusiastically.
A general shout of applause greeted the Pale-face,
who threw off' his coat and tightened his belt, while, a
young Indian presented him with a dart.
"Now, see that ye do us credit, lad," said Joe.
"I'll try," answered Dick.
In a moment they were off. The young Indian
rolled away the hoop, and Dick threw his dart with
such vigour that it went deep into the ground, but
missed the hoop by a foot at least. The young Indian's
first dart went through the centre.
"Ha!" exclaimed Joe Blunt to the Indians near him,
"the lad's not used to that game; try him at a race.
Bring out your best brave--he whose bound is like the
hunted deer."
We need scarcely remind the reader that Joe spoke
in the Indian language, and that the above is a correct
rendering of the sense of what he said.
The name of Tarwicadia, or the little chief, immediately
passed from lip to lip, and in a few minutes an
Indian, a little below the medium size, bounded into
the arena with an indiarubber-like elasticity that caused
a shade of anxiety to pass over Joe's face.
"Ah, boy!" he whispered, "I'm afeard you'll find
him a tough customer."
"That's just what I want," replied Dick. "He's
supple enough, but he wants muscle in the thigh.
We'll make it a long heat."
"Right, lad, ye're right."
Joe now proceeded to arrange the conditions of the
race with the chiefs around him. It was fixed that the
distance to be run should be a mile, so that the race
would be one of two miles, out and back. Moreover,
the competitors were to run without any clothes, except
a belt and a small piece of cloth round the loins. This
to the Indians was nothing, for they seldom wore more
in warm weather; but Dick would have preferred to
keep on part of his dress. The laws of the course,
however, would not permit of this, so he stripped and
stood forth, the
beau-ideal
of a well-formed, agile man.
He was greatly superior in size to his antagonist, and
more muscular, the savage being slender and extremely
lithe and springy.
"Ha! I will run too," shouted Henri, bouncing forward
with clumsy energy, and throwing off his coat
just as they were going to start.
The savages smiled at this unexpected burst, and
made no objection, considering the thing in the light of
a joke.
The signal was given, and away they went. Oh! it
would have done you good to have seen the way in
which Henri manoeuvred his limbs on this celebrated
occasion! He went over the ground with huge elephantine
bounds, runs, and jumps. He could not have been
said to have one style of running; he had a dozen
styles, all of which came into play in the course of half
as many minutes. The other two ran like the wind;
yet although Henri
appeared
to be going heavily over
the ground, he kept up with them to the turning-point.
As for Dick, it became evident in the first few minutes
that he could outstrip his antagonist with ease, and
was hanging back a little all the time. He shot ahead
like an arrow when they came about half-way back,
and it was clear that the real interest of the race was
to lie in the competition between Henri and Tarwicadia.
Before they were two-thirds of the way back, Dick
walked in to the winning-point, and turned to watch
the others. Henri's wind was about gone, for he exerted
himself with such violence that he wasted half
his strength. The Indian, on the contrary, was comparatively
fresh, but he was not so fleet as his antagonist,
whose tremendous strides carried him over the
ground at an incredible pace. On they came neck and
neck, till close on the score that marked the winning-point.
Here the value of enthusiasm came out strongly
in the case of Henri. He
felt
that he could not gain
an inch on Tarwicadia to save his life, but just as he
came up he observed the anxious faces of his comrades
and the half-sneering countenances of the savages. His
heart thumped against his ribs, every muscle thrilled
with a gush of conflicting feelings, and he
hurled
himself
over the score like a cannon shot, full six inches
ahead of the little chief!
But the thing did not by any means end here. Tarwicadia
pulled up the instant he had passed. Not so
our Canadian. Such a clumsy and colossal frame was
not to be checked in a moment. The crowd of Indians
opened up to let him pass, but unfortunately a small
tent that stood in the way was not so obliging. Into
it he went, head foremost, like a shell, carried away the
corner post with his shoulder, and brought the whole
affair down about his own ears and those of its inmates,
among whom were several children and two or three
dogs. It required some time to extricate them all from
the ruins, but when this was effected it was found that
no serious damage had been done to life or limb.