When the race was finished, we rode on and entered the town. About thirty huts constructed of bark compose the village. It is impossible to describe their architecture, for no two were built alike; and, as far as I was able to judge, they had no particular shape. A strong gale of wind would have prostrated even the best of them, had it not been for the shelter of the forest in which they were built.
As we rode along, the troops of naked children who followed at our heels convinced us that, among the sundry and manifold cares of the world, this tribe had not forgotten to perpetuate their race; and, notwithstanding their laziness, had contrived to start a fresh growth of pappooses, that constituted the “rising generation,” and were then undergoing the education usual to the Indian child. From what we saw, there is little doubt that when the present race shall pass away, the rising tribe will be fully qualified to inherit, in a creditable manner, the laziness of their forefathers.
Here and there, winding through the woods, or strolling over the prairie, might be seen a couple of cooing, greasy lovers; full of affection and slovenliness; unwashed, but devoted. What a fund of affection there must have been to have overlooked such a world of defects! A loud cry broke out in one of the hovels, and a couple rushed out. The first was a fat blowzy squaw. After her followed a diminutive, spider-legged Indian, who looked as if he had withered away under the gall of his own disposition. He was the lord and master of the lady. In his hand he flourished a stick, with which he had been maintaining that discipline by some deemed proper in a family, and which he now seemed inclined to continue. The woman, however, escaped, and made for the woods. The bystanders paused for a moment to look on; for there was an agreeable excitement about this, which did not occur every day, and which therefore was not to be lost. Upon the escape of his wife, the little man looked around, as if he longed for some other object upon which to vent the remainder of his wrath; but finding none, he disconsolately entered his dwelling.
In the centre of the town is a small log house, the residence of the agent appointed by the United States to reside with the tribe, and attend to the payment of the annuities forwarded by the government to this nation. We were cordially welcomed by him. We found the chief and prophet of the tribe with him. The former was a corpulent man, and in his youth must have been peculiarly handsome. The prophet was a tall bony Indian, with a keen black eye, and a face beaming with intelligence. He was leaning upon the muzzle of a long rifle when we entered. This he laid aside, and with the assistance of an interpreter, commenced a conversation with us. It was something unusual for him, as he generally kept aloof from intercourse with the whites. He had been converted to Christianity, and on Sundays delivered addresses upon this subject to the tribe.
There is an energy of character about him, which gives much weight to his words, and has created for him an influence greater than that of any Indian in the town. From the little that we saw, it was evident that the chief yielded to him, and listened to his remarks with the deference of one who acknowledged his superiority. There was, however, no appearance of jealousy or heart-burning between them.
It was late in the afternoon before we left. The sun was fast sinking in the west, and his last beams were resting on the tree tops, as we rode out of the woods. One hour’s ride, brought us again to our quarters at the cantonment.
CHAP. IX.
DEPARTURE FOR THE PAWNEES.—PRAIRIE LIFE.
Several weeks had elapsed, since our arrival at the garrison; yet the other commissioner had not made his appearance. Mr. Ellsworth determined, therefore, to set out without him for the Pawnee villages. The state of the garrison, enfeebled by sickness, did not allow of a sufficient escort to overawe the savages. He therefore took the bold alternative of throwing himself among them, in a manner unarmed, piquing their honour and hospitality by this mark of confidence.
Seven soldiers constituted the whole of the military escort: merely sufficient to protect us from any petty, prowling band.