The next day, and for another two weeks, we continued up the valley of this river, having, to our no small discomfort, to pass over many tributaries large and small. But the weather continued clear, without a trace of moisture or snow. The country, it seemed to me, sloped upward slowly, as though climbing toward the huge mountains, which the Indians said were the final bar to the world they knew. We saw no people, but we passed a number of deserted village-sites, which Chatanskah asserted to represent the course taken by the Teton in their westward journey, probably in search of better grazing conditions for their horse herds.
Indeed, this proved to be the case. Our first glimpse of a man after we parted from the Yanktonai came as we surmounted a hill that shouldered abruptly above the level of the savannahs. As noiseless as a figure in a dream, a boy of adolescent age rode over its summit and peered down at us with startled eyes. A yelp rose from his lips, and he heeled his mount up and down in confused fashion as if not knowing which way to turn, then, shaking his fist defiantly in our direction, galloped off down the opposite slope.
"The Teton keep good watch," I commented. "But why did the boy wait to run?"
"He was signaling," explained Tawannears. "When we reach the hill-top you will see what he has accomplished."
From the brow of the hill we looked down upon a broad stretch of level grass-land. Midway of it hundreds of teepees clustered in concentric circles, with an opening to the east. Smoke curled up between the lodge-poles, and men, women and children swarmed the streets, all staring up at us. A body of warriors were running from the village toward the river, where several thousand horses were being rounded up by the boy herd-guards, whose shrill cries came faintly to our ears; and whilst we were still a considerable distance away the herd was in motion toward the village, and an imposing troop of warriors galloped to meet us, the sunlight glinting on feather head-dresses and lance-points and the bright beadwork of sheaths and quivers.
"Hai!" exclaimed Chatanskah. "The Teton have their eyes open. They do well to watch from the hill-top, but if I were choosing a place to pitch my people's teepees I would not put them under a hill which I could not see through in the night. However, I suppose they must have protection for their sunka wakan* from the cold north winds. And here beneath the hill they have fine grazing grounds and water for the taking."
* Mysterious dogs—Indian name for horses.
At his advice we halted at the foot of the hill to await the coming of the horsemen, who stormed up as though they would ride us down. But a little, shriveled-up old man who rode in advance, flung out one hand with a single word of command, and they yanked their horses to an abrupt halt, scattering the sods right and left and flowing around us in a circle that barred all chance of retreat.
"Hao," said Chatanskah calmly. "Have the Teton left the Council of the Seven Fires? Does Nadoweiswe** forget the face of Chatanskah?"
** The Adder.