It was a scene of great hubbub and confusion. Some were mounted upon powerful, and sinewy horses, which sped through the water like sea-birds. Others floundered, half drowning through the deep channel, frightening the more timid by their snorting and splashing. Some of the Indians threw themselves from their steeds, and boldly stemmed the current, half swimming, and half wading; while the relieved horses, scattering in every direction, ploughed their way through the bubbling stream, and made for the nearest land. The baggage wagons toiled slowly along in the rear, keeping closely upon the trail of the chief.
After some time the whole party reached the opposite shore, at the foot of the high bluff, upon which stood the Republican village. The bank was steep, and almost precipitous. There was a pause of some length, before the arduous task of dragging the heavy vehicles up the hill, was imposed upon the jaded oxen. At length, however, a string of twelve were fastened before a single wagon, and united their strength to draw it up. The Indians stood by, with looks of wondering curiosity; but when they saw the lash inflicted, and the nervous efforts of the beasts, they shrank back with a feeling of fear, lest they should turn upon their persecutors. Even the older warriors showed signs of dread, and the children scampered in undisguised terror up the steep pathway. They paused, however, upon the top of the bluff, where they deemed that they might gaze in safety, upon the movements of their guests. After a sound drubbing, and much swearing on the part of the drivers, the jaded animals forced the wagons up the hill, and slowly proceeded through the village.
CHAPTER VII.
Indian Females and Feasts.
Many of the inhabitants of this town had been present at our arrival at the Grand Pawnee village, and to them the novelty of our appearance was over. To the rest, however, more particularly the women and children, all was new, and our day of entering into the town, was one of jubilee. We found the pathway lined with women and children, and the spaces between the lodges, crowded with them. Here and there were knots of wild-looking boys, with their bows and arrows tucked under their arms, staring with open mouths, upon the travelling lodges as they termed our heavy wagons. Groups too of females—the married women with troops of children—some on their backs and others at their heels, crowded round. Young and beautiful girls, also, wild as deer, were gazing at us with deep curiosity, but maintained a timid distance.
The most dauntless of the crowd, were two or three old crones, squalid and dirty in the extreme, and who, if aught might be judged from their looks, were the oldest women that ever lived. Every thing was withered about them, but their tongues, which still flourished with the vigour of former years. They were like racers: they had run against time, and gained the heat. Each of these beldames singled out her victim, from among the members of our party, and exerted herself to the utmost to render his situation agreeable, by dinning his ears with her garrulity.
Another worthy of this class, had been entrusted with the care of about a dozen children of all ages and sexes. These she had ranged upon the dome-like top of one of the lodges to see the spectacle, as we passed by. She stood in front of her elfish brood, keeping at bay by the violent exertions of both tongue and talons, the crowd, who, in their anxiety to obtain a view, were attempting to invade her sanctuary.
The persons who had placed their little goblin young ones in her charge, understood well her nature. Her tongue knew no rest. At one moment it was busy in bestowing a shower of wholesome advice, upon some refractory little urchin, whose curiosity would not permit him to sit easy; and at another it was waging a wordy war with the passers by. She fluttered, and ruffled round her bevy, with all the peevish irritability of an old wet-nurse hen, placed in charge of a family of graceless young ducks, who need all her advice and attention, to keep them from danger.
After winding our way through the town, we at length came to the lodge of Blue Coat,[E] the chief of this village. He had nothing of the stern coldness of the leader of the Grand Pawnees. He attended personally and assiduously to our comfort—assisting even in unloading, and bringing in our baggage. When this was finished, he seated himself and opened a conversation, through the interpreter. There was an intelligence in his remarks, and an ease in his manners, which almost made his guests forget they were conversing with a wild, untutored savage.