The savages had but poor fortune in trapping this winter, and there was considerable suffering. The Indians of the northwest rely solely upon what they are able thus to take, for their food during the cold season; and, as there is generally plenty of game, they fare well. But now and then some unaccountable cause drives all the animals away, and cases of actual starvation have occurred. Jim told me that three winters before a case of cannibalism had occurred in their tribe, and years before that, when a mere child, there came an appalling time. Half the families were obliged to devour some of their members to support life until spring, and, for over a week, an old, miserable bison supported the whole tribe. Jim said he had more than once cooked his moccasins and eaten them.
The tribe was driven to no such extremity as this while I was with them, and I saw no want myself. Jim was one of their best hunters and he supplied his own lodge before that of others. Yet, there were others who were not so fortunate, and who were often compelled to endure the pangs of hunger for days at a time. When food was secured, they gorged themselves nearly to bursting, and were the happiest of mortals, until the wants of nature again made themselves felt.
I could write far more of my experience with this tribe of Indians; but I feel it would be hardly in place here, as there are other characters in this narrative who must claim notice. My aim has been only to dwell long enough upon particulars, for an understanding of the events that follow. During my captivity, several things occurred to make me suspect that the mysterious captive referred to was in this village the whole time, and I was satisfied that the Indian Jim knew more of Nat than he would impart to me. These imaginings filled me with moody misgivings, and I made a resolve that as soon as spring came I would make my escape; and if I could learn nothing of the two beings whose fate was unknown to me, depart for the States. The life I was leading was a wearisome, monotonous one, and in time would become unbearable. Spring was but a month or two distant, and in its approach I placed my fondest hopes; but it was doomed to open an experience in my life of which I little dreamed.
CHAPTER IX.
THE BUFFALO HUNT AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
During my captivity among the Indians, as stated in the last chapter, there was considerable suffering on account of the scarcity of food. The country to the north of Nebraska is the paradise of all species of game in the summer months, but during the winter the large animals proceed to the southward, and the deep snows prevent the capture of the smaller ones, except by means of traps. Spring, therefore, was looked forward to with eager expectation, as the harbinger of enjoyment and the season of the chase.
And it came at last. First, the sun grew hotter and blazed more fiercely; the snow became damp and cloggy, and the dripping of water could be heard through the day and night. Snow-shoe traveling was now nearly impossible, as long as the thaw continued. Huge streams of melted snow poured into the rivers all along the banks, and the ice became weaker and weaker each moment, till, at last, with a terrific crashing and thundering, the whole mass started, and, a week after, the clear, blue running water only was seen. The thaw continued, until at last all the snow had disappeared, and with feelings of indescribable joy, we once more saw the face of the earth. Vegetation now commenced with surprising growth, and, in an almost incredible short space of time, bright, radiant, glorious spring held indisputed reign. Indians were departing and arriving every day with loads of fish, wild fowl, and game, and the village was a scene of unbridled feasting for many a day.
One forenoon, a savage, who had been absent a day or two, announced that a herd of buffaloes were quietly browsing a few miles to the southward. This produced violent commotion throughout the village, and preparations were at once made for the grand hunt. Some twenty or thirty splendid Indian ponies were mounted by as many warriors, and, to my inexpressible delight, Jim informed me that I should accompany them. A small, high-spirited animal was given me as my charger. He was of a dark color, and his dappled haunches glistened in the sun like polished ebony.
About noon we sallied forth from the village, and struck a southward direction, restraining our animals to a walk, in order to preserve their wind for the severe test at hand. While riding along by the side of Jim, the thought of escape—which had not been absent from me for the last six months—came with double force. I was now mounted upon a fleet, long-winded animal, who could hold his own with any horse bestrode by the Indians, and what was to prevent my escape? In the bewilderment and excitement of the chase, I might wander miles away, and be gone many hours, without exciting suspicion. My captors, I suppose, had no thoughts of my attempting a flight, as I had permitted so many opportunities to pass, and I felt there would be no suspicious eyes watching my motions. The prairie stretched hundreds of miles to the southward, and it seemed my animal longed to bound away upon it. At any rate, I felt the time had come, and resolved that I should never return to the Indian village a captive.