As they passed on over the plain where the buffalo lay, they saw many men at work butchering, and before they had come to the last of the dead buffalo, a long line of women with their travois, their children and their dogs had reached the killing ground, and begun the work of carrying the meat and hides to camp.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE WOUNDING OF FOX EYE.
The days passed pleasantly and quickly. Everybody in the camp was busy, every one was happy. On the drying scaffolds among the lodges, hung the wide sheets of bright red meat and of white back fat, which slowly turned brown in the dry wind and under the burning sun. And as this dried meat was removed and packed away, other fresh meat took its place, to be in turn removed. All day long women were busy over hides stretched out upon the ground, removing the flesh and fat and hair, and preparing them for lodge-skins. Then presently, new lodges, fresh and white under the sunlight, began to take the place of those that age and use had turned gray and brown. The dogs, which a few weeks before had been gaunt, lean and hungry looking, were now fat and sleek. They no longer spent their time on the prairie hunting little birds and ground squirrels, but gorged with fresh buffalo meat, lay about in the sun and slept, except when disturbed by malicious children who enjoyed creeping up to an unsuspecting or sleeping animal, and beating it with a great stick.
From time to time the camp moved a little way. Buffalo were plenty everywhere. Many were killed and their flesh and skins brought into the camp. One night after a chase, as Jack and Joe were walking about through the camp, a man and a little boy rode up to a lodge close to them. The man's horse was loaded with meat, but on that ridden by the boy, there was only a small pack, wrapped up in the hide of a calf. A woman took the ropes of both horses, but the man, instead of going into his lodge, turned about and called out a short speech in a loud voice. Joe pulled Jack's arm and said, "Let's stop and watch; that's Boss Ribs Hunter. His boy has just killed a calf. It is the first time the little fellow ever hunted, and his father is giving away a horse."
"How do you mean, Joe," said Jack.
"Why, you see," said Joe, "the boy has killed a calf and as he's only a little fellow, it's a pretty big thing for him, and his father wants to show how glad he is by making a present, so he called out and told Last Coyote to come and see what his boy had done. Last Coyote is old and poor. He hasn't any relations and I don't believe he's even got a horse. It is a pretty brave thing of Boss Ribs Hunter to do, to give him a horse, because he knows that he never can expect Last Coyote to give him one. Sometimes you know, a man will give away a horse to a rich person, and then before very long, this rich person will feel that he's either got to give a horse back again, or some other good present. But when anybody gives a present to a poor man, it shows that he has a strong heart." While he was saying this, an old man in a very much worn robe had come out of a lodge not far off, and had walked up to Boss Ribs Hunter. He spoke to the man, pointing first to his little boy and then to the horse with the small pack of meat on it, and presently, without a word, the old man clambered onto the horse's back, and rode away through the camp singing as he went.
"Now," said Joe, "you'll see that old man will ride all around through the camp, and will tell everybody what that little boy has done, and that Boss Ribs Hunter gave him this horse because he came to see what the boy had done. In that way, everybody in the camp will come to know that the boy has done well, and that Boss Ribs Hunter has a good heart."
A few days after this, the young men, who had been sent out to look for buffalo, reported that they had moved, and that there were few now on the prairie. The chiefs, therefore, gave orders that the camp should be moved north to Milk River, in the hope that on that stream buffalo would be found. The morning when the camp moved, Hugh and Fox Eye, with Jack and Joe, rode away early ahead of the camp and a little to one side of the line of march, to examine the country.