CHAP. XXX.
THE ALARM.
On the fifth night after our departure from the Otoe town, we encamped upon the banks of the Platte river. The night was clear and cool, and the reflected stars sparkled in the neighbouring river.
The prevailing silence was now and then broken by the neigh of our horses, who were pasturing at a short distance; or by the trumpet-toned cry of some wild goose, the leader of a flock, on their way to the north. Far to the south, a faint red light was reflected in the heaven, which one of the hunters attributed to the burning of a prairie, some twenty miles off.
A large fire of heavy logs had been built in front of the tent, and the party had gradually gathered round it. Two or three of our dusky companions mingled with the group—grave, but observing, spectators of the actions of the whites. Half of a large deer was roasting before the fire; and the Black Bear, with a face of vast importance, was busily engaged in concocting our evening’s supply of coffee in a large tin bucket, which swung from a pole, inclined over the fire. The interpreter was called upon for a story, and had just discharged a large roll of tobacco from his mouth to make room for the full play of his tongue. “Ugh!” exclaimed one of the Indians.
“What’s the matter now, Hah-che-kah-sug-hah?”[H] asked the doctor, addressing the Indian by his native name. The Indian glanced his eye towards the speaker as he heard his name uttered; but, after standing for a moment, he walked off a few steps and placed his hand behind his ear in the attitude of one engaged in earnest listening.
[H] This Indian was one of the principal braves of the Otoe nation, and has since become a chief. The name Hah-che-kah-sug-hah was given to him on account of his deadly success in the war parties against the Osages. It signifies, the man who slays the Osages. Though distinguished for ferocity in battle, yet in private life he was one of the most joyous, pleasant fellows I ever met with.
“What does he hear, D——?” said the doctor, turning to the Indian agent.
“We will know presently,” returned the other quietly, without evincing more curiosity than the red companion with whom he had so long taken up his residence.
For a moment the Indian stood with his brows knit, his eyes bent to the ground, his head inclining a little forward, his nostrils expanded, and every sense apparently on the qui vive. He remained so for a few seconds; then, throwing himself upon the ground, pressed his ear closely against the sod.