Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2)

by John Treat Irving

There were about forty of them crowded together around a small fire, which they had kindled under the shade of the tree.

Give an Indian a fire, and you give him a home. Be there one or a hundred, a few sticks thrown together and kindled into a flame will be the gathering place of all. It is the same in the prairies and in the settlements—in warm weather and in cold. When they stop from a journey or a hunt, they kindle a fire and nestle around it. From that moment they feel an ideal property in the spot upon which they have thus intimated their intention to linger.

The band before us were all finely-formed men; for, with the exception of the Osage Indians of the Arkansas, they are considered the most noble of the tribes which yet roam within the neighbourhood of the settlements. As yet, from their communion with the whites they have derived benefit alone. Too far from them to imbibe their vices, they have yet been able to hold sufficient intercourse to promote their own interest. They have thrown aside their buffalo-skin robes, and adopted the blanket. They have become skilful in the use of the rifle, and except in hunting the buffalo make no use of bows and arrows.

When we came up, two or three were engaged in collecting fuel to sustain the fire; the rest were lounging around, luxuriating in the most perfect laziness. Several were leaning listlessly upon their hunting spears, too indolent to bear even their own weight. Some were resting against the tree; and a band of five or six were lying upon their backs, with their feet to the fire, drumming with their fists upon their breasts, and chanting out a sleepy ditty, the chorus of which was filled up by a loud yell from every throat in the band.

They were all athletic and finely formed. Their heads were shaven with the exception of the scalp lock, which hung down between their shoulders; and their breasts were left exposed by their blankets.

There was a little squaw in company with them, a notable character; and if I might judge from the foolish look of several, and the loud laugh of the rest, gifted with a most peppery tongue. We had heard of Indian beauties, but she was not one of them; for she engrossed in her own person a concentration of ugliness, which would have more than satisfied a dozen ordinary females. There was an acidity in her black glittering eye which gave a zest to her remarks, causing them to be highly relished by the lounging crew, but rendering them unpalatable to the unfortunate scape goat at whose expense they were uttered.

We had not stood there long before we came in for our share of her blessings: of their nature, however, we remained in a happy ignorance. They were received with loud bursts of merriment from the graceless troop around her, with the exception of one or two of the oldest Indians. The grave faces and wrinkled brows of these wore a discouraging sternness. It was in vain that the little woman exhausted her wit for the purpose of enticing a smile upon their features; their lips were as rigid as ever, nor did the relaxation of a single muscle of their swarthy faces denote that they participated in the general amusement. In spite of this, however, she appeared loath to relinquish her sport. While this had been going on, an old Indian was sitting close to the fire, with one elbow resting upon his knee, and his hand supporting his chin. His hair was white, and rested in flaky locks upon his shoulders. His eyes were fixed intently upon the blaze, and he was apparently buried in deep thought.

He had continued in this posture for some time; but at last a loud burst of laughter, which followed some remark of the squaw, seemed to call him to himself. He looked around for a moment with a bewildered air, then starting to his feet, strode over to the oratrix, and hissed a few low but stern words in her ear. Her face lengthened, and her mouth closed; the rest instantly followed her example, and the faces of the whole gang were converted to a look of the most penitential gravity. What the charm was that acted so potently in hushing the clamour of the virago I never knew, or I should have imparted it for the benefit of the civilised world.

The old man then stepped from the centre of the crowd, and extended his hand to each of us. After a cordial shaking he pressed his own against his bosom, and withdrew to his former seat at the fire. From that moment the noise and jeering were hushed. The old lady turned her attention to a number of potatoes which were roasting in the fire. Parties of five or six, wrapping their blankets closely around them, sauntered off towards the quarters of the officers. Others strolled off to the banks of the Missouri; and five or six, who appeared too idle even to do that, laid themselves at full length upon the grass, and joined in the drum and chorus of those who were already engaged in chanting. A few of the oldest warriors then drew together in a knot, and commenced an earnest debate, in which they were afterwards joined by the old Indian who had interfered at first in our behalf. They spoke earnestly; the matter appeared to be one of moment, and each in turn gave his opinion. There was a warmth and an energy in their tones and gesticulation as they spoke, and an earnestness in their usually calm and dispassionate features, which strongly excited our curiosity.

The little woman, too, seemed totally engrossed with the interest of the subject. She suffered a large potato to roast to coal without noticing it. She sat with her eyes intently fixed upon the varying countenances of the speakers, turning from one to the other as each in turn delivered his opinion. Her air was not that of mere curiosity, there was a strong mixture of anxiety blended with it. She looked as if she were deeply interested in the result.