At length one of the young warriors struck up a wild song, which made the woods re-echo. Another joined it, and another, until the whole of the group round that fire, were engrossed in the theme. A single voice from a distant pile then struck in, another followed. Another fire then added its voice, and gradually it spread from one group to another, until every throat in the whole Pawnee troop, had united in it. It sung of war, and well did the gestures, and wildly energetic tones of the singers, express the meaning of the words. In parts, the blended voices swelled on the night air, with a mournfully melodious sound; but when the howl, with which they ended every verse, burst from the throats of the whole band, it was thrilling and fearful. The Otoes caught the wild enthusiasm of the moment, and they too added their voices to the savage concert, until it almost seemed to rend the black canopy above us.
The song was kept up till after midnight; for long after we had retired to our tents, it frequently awoke us from our slumbers, or mingled in the phantasmagoria of our dreams.
CHAPTER XIX.
Separation from Party.—Burning Prairie.—Wolves.—Journey.
It was scarcely sunrise, before the dark grove echoed with preparations for our departure. The voice of our mongrel French boy, Joe, was heard, hailing the mules, which had strayed for pasturage, some distance down the bottom. The soldiers loaded the pack-horses; the Pawnees collected together their scanty stock of cooking utensils, and packed them upon the back of a lean, bony nag, whose evil destiny had made him drudge-horse to the Indian host; and the old Iotan saw his wife snugly tucked away in one of the dearborn wagons, and stationed himself as guide, at the border of the forest, waiting for the movements of the band.
It was a cold, blustering day, with a clear and cloudless sky. The wind swept in sudden gusts through the creaking trees, and the dead prairie grass waved and rustled as the gale brushed over it.
In a short time the party wound out of the grove, and struck across the prairie, in the direction taken by the Iotan. He had been a bold marauder in his youth, and had traversed every woody nook, and every prairie swell which lay in this quarter. When standing upon some high bluff, he would call his young warriors round him, and point out the different scenes of his exploits. “There,” said he, pointing to some clustering forest, “there have I scalped the Osages, and there,” pointing in another direction, “have I stolen horses from the same nation. There is not a grove which has not echoed the screams of my enemies, or borne witness to my plunderings. There is not a bottom in which I have not encamped, nor a swell which I have not crossed, either in hunting, or when bound upon some war expedition.” He loved in his old age to dwell upon the deeds of his youth, and when narrating them, his faded features would light up, and his eye would flash, “for then,” said he, “my arm was heavy and my limbs were strong.” Yet it seemed to me they could not have been much heavier, or stronger, unless they had been iron itself. Such was the Indian who acted as guide, and led the way in front of our party; nor could I see that age had impaired his vigour; for in traversing hills and ravines, forests and streams, I never knew his step to flag or falter, or his frame to show any symptoms of fatigue.
After following him for a short time, I turned off, in company with a strapping soldier named McClanahan, to search for wild turkeys, which are abundant in the forests skirting the Nemahaw. We traversed several glades, opening in a thick growth of timber; but although we saw many, we were for a long time unable to get a shot at them.
In beating up the forest we separated, and I soon lost sight of my companion; though for nearly an hour I occasionally heard the report of his rifle, sometimes near, and sometimes far off. Gradually each discharge appeared to be more distant, and at length they ceased altogether. I kept on after the turkeys without killing any. Sometimes I succeeded in winging one, and then followed a hot scrambling chase through bushes, briars, and underwood, which invariably terminated in the escape of the bird.