In the meantime, a change took place in the village. Every family was busily engaged in making ready for its departure, to the distant haunts of the buffalo. Large droves of horses poured in from every direction. The town rang with noises of all descriptions. Squaws were scolding; children were squalling; pappooses, too young to shift for themselves, like so many little mummies, were suspended in baskets round the inside of the lodges, where they would be out of harm’s way, while their mothers were engaged in packing up. The dogs had probably learned, from disagreeable experience, that this was one of the ill-humoured seasons of the tribe. Many of them had withdrawn to a short distance in the prairie, where they sat, demurely waiting till the bustle should be finished, and good humour restored to the town. The warriors laid aside their usual indolence, and assisted their wives in loading the horses. The only idlers in the town were children and old men. The first stood in droves, looking on, equally aware with the dogs, of the souring effect of all this bustle upon the tempers of the grown-up portion of the community; and equally cautious in avoiding all contact with them. The last strolled up and down; kicking every stray cur they chanced to meet, and bellowing out advice to all who chose to listen.
Here and there, a long train, who had finished their labours, were slowly wending their way, over the western hills, towards the wished-for hunting grounds. A long suite of dogs lounged after them, and disappeared, with them, behind the distant ridges.
As one family after another dropped off, the town began to wear a lonely air. Wild and uncouth as were its inhabitants, we had formed a companionship with them. When, however, we entered their lodges, found the fires extinguished, the buildings stripped, and silence and solitude reigning where we had been greeted with kind looks and smiling faces, we experienced a dreary feeling, which increased our desire to be once more on the wing towards our still distant goal.
CHAP. XXIX.
DEPARTURE FROM THE OTOE VILLAGE.
It was about ten o’clock, on a rich golden morning, that we started from the Otoe village. The baggage waggons had left it some hours previous, and had long since passed the hills which rose behind the town. A crowd of gazers collected round us as we saddled our horses. At length every thing was completed, and, bidding farewell to the dusky group, we mounted, and galloped off in the direction taken by the waggons.
Our course lay along the borders of the Platte, which soon began to lose the luxuriant verdure that had fringed its banks in the neighbourhood of the Otoe town. Scarcely a tree or shrub grew upon its borders, or threw a shade upon the glare of its waters. It moved sullenly along, with now and then the floating trunk of some ponderous tree, drifting towards the still more murky waters of the Missouri.
Our party now counted about thirty, including Indians; and although, on account of the scarcity of provisions, four of the soldiers had been sent back to the garrison, still the reinforcement of Otoes more than compensated for their loss. They were a noble race of men, with more pride of character than we had observed in any of the Indians we had as yet met with. They had all prepared themselves for the journey. Their blankets were thrown over their shoulders and strapped round their waists, in such a manner as to leave a short skirt extending half way down to the knee. Their legs were protected by coarse leggings of buffalo skin. Each man carried a short scabbard, containing a knife; and several pair of mocassins were strapped upon the back of each. They had left their rifles at the village; and a short thick bow, with a well-stocked quiver of arrows, supplied their places. This was the usual equipment of an Indian warrior when starting on a peaceful journey.
The leader of the band was the Iotan chief. Next followed the short, thick figure of the Big Kaw, succeeded by the long form of the Thief; and after them came the inferior warriors. They moved in front of us, with limbs that seemed not to know fatigue; and although we travelled over many miles of prairie before nightfall, their pace was the same, and their step as unflagging as ever.
Take an Indian upon the prairies, and he is in his element. An air of wild freedom breathes around him. His head droops not; his eye quails not; and not a single feature yields in submission to his fellow man. He is unrestrained in body, unfettered in spirit, and as wayward as the breeze which sweeps over the grass of his own hills.