Jumping Rabbit’s Story.
CHAPTER III.
The return of our party.—Sports and festivities.
After I had been about a month in the village, a swift Indian, despatched by the warriors who had been absent on an expedition against some distant tribes, came in, and announced that the whole party were near at hand, and would enter the village the following morning. Preparations were therefore made to receive them.
All was bustle and activity, though this seemed to consist more in running about, and chattering like a set of magpies, than anything else. The children leaped, frolicked, shouted, and fought mimic battles as well as real ones, in which they bit, scratched, kicked and pulled hair, in honor of the coming celebration. The women went about from tent to tent, talking with great animation and keeping up the hum, which might be heard at the farther extremity of the village.
Evening at last came, but there was no cessation of the excitement. The greater part of the night was spent in talking, squabbling, dancing, jumping, leaping and yelling. At length the morning came, and just as the sun was rising, an Indian, painted blue and red, carrying on his head the skin taken from the pate of a grizzly bear, was seen creeping along in the edge of the adjacent wood. He was soon followed by another, painted in a similar manner, with the horns and pate of a buffalo upon his head. Others succeeded, all of them painted and dressed in the most wild and fantastic manner, until about a hundred warriors had gathered in the thickets of the forest, close to the village.
A pause of at least half an hour ensued. All within the wood was silent, and not a trace of the savages that lurked in its bosom, could be discovered. The women, children and old men of the village had gathered in the open space encircled by the tents, where they awaited the coming spectacle in breathless expectation.
At last, a wild yell, as if a thousand demons filled the air, broke from the forest. In an instant after, the warriors started from their cover and ran toward the village with the greatest swiftness. Approaching the group of women and children, they formed themselves in a circle and began to dance in a most violent manner. They leaped, jumped, ran, brandished their weapons, screamed, chattered, and appeared more like infernal spirits than human creatures. They were all on foot except about a dozen, who were on horseback, and attired in the most fantastic manner. These rode round the circle with great swiftness, flourishing their long spears, and performing a sort of wild mimic battle.
Nothing could be more fierce and frightful than the whole scene, yet the women and children were greatly delighted, and evinced their ecstasy by uproarious acclamations. The warriors were excited by this applause to greater feats, and for about an hour they kept up their savage revel. They seemed to be as proud of their greasy paint and their savage foppery, as a well-dressed company of militia marching on a muster-day through one of our villages. A bear’s or buffalo’s pate was fully equal to a cocked hat; a raccoon’s or oppossum’s hide was equivalent to a pair of epaulettes; the bow and arrow were an offset to the sword.
But the Indian warriors had one advantage over our training-day soldiers. They had been in actual service, and carried with them evidences of their victory. Several of them bore in their hands large bundles of bloody scalps, which they had taken from their enemies, and these they flourished in the faces of the admiring spectators. It is obvious that the same vanity and foppery which are found in the fair-weather soldiers of towns and cities, belong to the savage warrior of the wilderness.
At length, the ceremony was over, and the savages dispersed themselves to their several wigwams. The next day, however, they had a great exhibition, which was a kind of war-dance, in which the warriors attempted to exhibit their several battles and exploits. It was in fact a sort of pantomime, in which several of the Indians displayed great powers of mimicry. Though I was not much accustomed to these things, I understood a good deal of what the Indians meant by their performances.
One of these fellows amused me very much. He seemed to be fond of fun, and, like the clown in a circus, appeared to think more of making a laugh than anything else. It seemed from his representation, that, on one occasion, he was sent to spy out the situation of a party of Indians, whom they intended to attack. It was night, and as he was proceeding along a deer path in the forest, he chanced to see a skunk immediately before him. The creature stood still, and positively refused to stir a step.
The Indian hesitated for some time what to do, but at last he put an arrow to the bowstring, and shot the impertinent animal to the heart. The air was, however, immediately filled with the creature’s effluvia, and the Indians, whom the spy was seeking, being ever on the watch, were startled by the circumstance, and the spy himself was obliged to retreat for safety. This whole story was easily comprehended from the admirable mimicry of the actor. Nothing could exceed his drollery, except the applause of the spectators. He seemed to have the reputation of an established wag, and, like Andrews at the late Tremont Theatre, he could hardly turn his eye, or crook his finger, but the action was followed with bursts of applause.
There was one thing that characterized all the warriors, and that was a love of boasting and self-glorification. Every one represented himself as a hero and as performing the most wonderful feats of strength and valor. Boasting, I suspect, is a thing that naturally belongs to those who have little refinement, and modesty is doubtless the fruit of those finer sentiments which belong to civilization.
For several days there were sports and festivities, and every one seemed to give himself up to amusement. The warriors had brought home with them a young Indian prisoner, who was about eighteen years old. He was a fine, proud-looking fellow, and when he was brought out and encircled by all the Indians, he seemed to survey them with a kind of scorn. He was tied to a stake, and the young Indians, stationed at a certain distance, were allowed to shoot their arrows at him. Several of them hit him, and the blood trickled freely down his body. He stood unmoved, however, and seemed not to notice the wounds. The women then surrounded him, and jeered at him, making mouths, and pinching his flesh, and punching him with sharp sticks.
At last, it was determined by the warriors, to let him loose upon the prairie and give him a chance of escape. The warriors were to pursue him. If he was retaken, he was to die; if he outran his pursuers, he was to have his liberty.
The prisoner was unbound and placed at the distance of about six rods in advance of those who were to pursue him; the signal was given, and he departed. He seemed fleet as the mountain deer, and life was the wager for which he ran. He was, however, pursued by more than a dozen Indians, scarcely less lightfooted than himself. He struck across the prairie, which lay stretched out for several miles, almost as level as the sea, and in the distance, was skirted by the forest.
He kept in advance of his pursuers, who strained every nerve to overtake him. On he flew, casting an occasional glance backward. The yells broke often from his pursuers, but he was silent. It was for life that he fled, and he would not waste a breath. On he sped, and as he and his followers seemed to grow less and less in the distance, my eyes grew weary of the scene. But such was the interest that I felt for the poor fugitive that I kept my gaze bent upon the chase for almost an hour.
The Indians seemed at last in the remote distance to be dwindled to the size of insects; they still strained every limb, though they seemed scarcely to move; they still yelled with all their might, but only an occasional faint echo reached our ears. At last, the fugitive plunged into the forest; his pursuers followed, and they were lost to the view. After the lapse of several hours, the pursuing party returned, without their prisoner. He was at liberty in the unbounded forest.