AN INDIAN CREEPING
THROUGH THE LONG GRASS
His captors held a grand council and decided that his fate should depend upon the amount of his courage and endurance. If he bore well the torture they gave him he might be adopted into the tribe—a great honor—otherwise they would kill him. First they held him barefoot upon the coals of the camp-fire until large blisters came and these they pierced with bone needles and filled with sharp stones. They then formed a gauntlet and made the little fellow run between the long lines of shouting savages. His agony was intense, but with all the courage and fortitude of his tribe he had strength to reach the goal. A wild shout of approval went up from the Indians. “Good,” cried a chief. “He will be a great warrior.”
But this was only the beginning of his trials. They now bound him to the stakes and tortured him with fire and still the brave boy stood without a complaint or a moan. Then, not yet satisfied, they held him under the water of a cold stream until his life was almost gone, but when they released him and he gained his breath he still was able to stand up before them. “A warrior, a warrior,” they cried and then adopted him into their tribe. This boy grew to be a noted chief of great power, hailed far and wide for his brave deeds.
Trained in such a hard school, no point of advantage escaped the Indians in war or on the trail. They made good use of the tall grass of the prairies to shield them, and would glide behind it like serpents toward their enemies, suddenly and unexpectedly jumping up among them with shrill, wild war-whoops.
Scouts on horses found a way up and down and in and out of the most difficult mountain passes, and watchers were ever kept on the tall cliffs that fringed the more open and fertile valleys. White explorers and emigrants seeing smoke rise from the watch fires at first looked for an attack in that direction. But while they centered their interest on the thin rising cloud of smoke, scouts in full war dress would be riding out on the opposite cliff and leisurely studying the enemy. For hours the Indians would keep up this silent exchange of signals and then at night under the cover of darkness make their unheralded attack. Dusky forms would stealthily crawl on all fours up to the very edge of the settlers’ camp, then the call of a night bird would sound out in the stillness. This would mean little to the white sentries on guard, unaccustomed as they were to the methods of their savage foe.
Suddenly the beautiful quiet of night pervading the camp would be rent with the wild piercing war-whoop. In an instant Indians would spring from every conceivable spot and a scene of horrible confusion would ensue, and the sun next morning, rising in all the splendor of the glorious western hills, would reveal the sad tale of savage massacre.
The white man coming in ever increasing numbers soon saw the wisdom of acquiring the services of white plainsmen and scouts who had been trained by hard experience and could meet the Indian on his own ground. This plan proved a great success, for without them the conquest of the Great West would have been an almost impossible task.
