The melancholy dirge swelled loudly as the long train moved past us; but it gradually became fainter, and fainter, as they wound their way among the distant lodges, and disappeared.
In a few moments, we were galloping over the prairie, to overtake some of the party who had preceded us. A train of Indians followed us, and the tops of the lodges were crowded.
After travelling a mile, we at last crossed the top of a ridge, and lost sight of the town.
CHAPTER XIV.
Storm.—Dog Feast.
A heavy storm of mingled snow and rain set in, on the day after our departure from the Pawnee village.
If there is any thing truly comfortless, it is a camp upon a rainy day. Every thing combined to add to its gloomy character. The fly of the tent, which might have afforded us protection, had been torn to tatters; and the roof of our canvas house, settled down into a bag. Through this a steady stream of water distilled, upon the centre of a board, which we had honoured with the appellation of a breakfast table. The blankets were rolled up, and piled in the middle of the tent, covered by a large bear-skin. This was nearly saturated with the drizzling moisture. A large pile of green logs, heaped up in front of the tent, refused to burn, but yielded a bountiful supply of smoke, which the wind occasionally wafted in clouds into our canvas habitation.
The thorough drenching which they had received, seemed to have soaked all pride and dignity, out of our Indian companions. They crouched like wet poultry round the fire, shutting their eyes, and holding their breath, determined to receive some of its warmth, in defiance of the clouds of smoke which it threw into their faces. Here and there, were small groups squatting out in the prairie; each man was huddled up into a knot, with the rain pouring in streams down his shaggy robe, and dripping off into the grass. The paint was drenched from his face, and his whole demeanour so utterly changed, that it was almost impossible to recognize the proud, haughty warrior, in the dripping, bedraggled being, then crouching in the grass, beneath the pelting storm. Once or twice, some poor, half-drowned fellow, with a desperate attempt at jovialty, struck up a song, with a come-let’s-be-jolly kind of an air, which was intended to set the weather and fortune at defiance; but it was a failure. At the commencement one or two voices struck in with valorous spirit, but finding that they were not supported, they gradually sunk into silence, leaving the person who had commenced the strain, to finish it as well as he might.