[CHAPTER XVIII.]
The encampment of the party on the 4th of July, was a few miles from where the road crosses over to the north fork of the Platte, where a grand dinner was prepared, toasts drank, and salutes fired; and it was here Fremont decided to divide his party, wishing, himself, to explore the south fork of the Platte, as far as St. Vrain's Fort; and taking with him Maxwell and two others of his men, and the Cheyenne Indians, whose village was upon this river, he left the rest of the party to proceed under the direction of Clement Lambert up the north fork to Fort Laramie, where they were to wait his arrival, as he intended to cross the country between the two forts.
Buffalo were still plenty upon Fremont's route, and the Indians with him made an unsuccessful attempt to lasso the leader of a drove of wild horses, which they passed. They met a band of two or three hundred Arapahoe Indians, and were only saved from an attack by Maxwell, who secured a timely recognition from the old chief who led the party, which proved to be from a village among whom he had resided as a trader, and whose camp the chief pointed out to them some six miles distant. They had come out to surround a band of buffalo which was feeding across the river, and were making a large circuit to avoid giving them the wind, when they discovered Fremont's party, whom they had mistaken for Pawnees. In a few minutes the women came galloping up, astride of their horses, and naked from their knees down, and the hips up. They followed the men to assist in cutting up and carrying off the meat.
The wind was blowing directly across the river, and the chief having requested Fremont to remain where he then was, to avoid raising the herd, he readily consented, and having unsaddled their horses, they sat down to view the scene. The day had become very hot, the thermometer standing at 108°. The Indians commenced crossing the river, and as soon as they were upon the other side, separated into two bodies.
Fremont thus describes this exciting hunt, or massacre, as the reader may choose to designate it,—and his subsequent visit to the Arapahoe village:
"One party proceeded directly across the prairie, towards the hills, in an extended line, while the other went up the river; and instantly, as they had given the wind to the herd, the chase commenced. The buffalo started for the hills, but were intercepted and driven back toward the river, broken and running in every direction. The clouds of dust soon covered the whole scene, preventing us from having any but an occasional view. It had a very singular appearance to us at a distance, especially when looking with the glass.
"We were too far to hear the report of the guns, or any sound, and at every instant, through the clouds of dust, which the sun made luminous, we could see for a moment two or three buffalo dashing along, and close behind them an Indian with his long spear, or other weapon, and instantly again they disappeared. The apparent silence, and the dimly seen figures flitting by with such rapidity, gave it a kind of dreamy effect, and seemed more like a picture than a scene of real life.
"It had been a large herd when the cerne commenced, probably three or four hundred in number; but though I watched them closely, I did not see one emerge from the fatal cloud where the work of destruction was going on. After remaining here about an hour, we resumed our journey in the direction of the village.
"Gradually, as we rode on, Indian after Indian came dropping along, laden with meat; and by the time we had reached the lodges, the backward road was covered with the returning horsemen. It was a pleasant contrast with the desert road we had been traveling. Several had joined company with us, and one of the chiefs invited us to his lodge.
"The village consisted of about one hundred and twenty-five lodges, of which twenty were Cheyennes; the latter pitched a little apart from the Arapahoes. They were disposed in a scattering manner on both sides of a broad, irregular street, about one hundred and fifty feet wide, and running along the river. As we rode along, I remarked near some of the lodges a kind of tripod frame, formed of three slender poles of birch, scraped very clean, to which were affixed the shield and spear, with some other weapons of a chief. All were scrupulously clean, the spear head was burnished bright, and the shield white and stainless. It reminded me of the days of feudal chivalry; and when, as I rode by, I yielded to the passing impulse, and touched one of the spotless shields with the muzzle of my gun, I almost expected a grim warrior to start from the lodge and resent my challenge.