In “Prairie-land” every tribe of Indians is in possession of the horse. On the north the Crees, Crows, and Blackfeet, the Sioux, Cheyennes, and Arapahoes; on the plains of the Platte, the Kansas, and Osage, we find the Pawnees, the Kansas, and Osages,—all horse-Indians. West of the great mountain-range, the Apache is mounted: so likewise the Utah, the Navajo, and the Snake, or Shoshonee,—the latter rather sparingly. Other tribes, to a greater or less degree, possess this valuable animal; but the true type of the “horse-Indian” is to be found in the Comanche, the lord of that wide domain that extends from the Arkansas to the Rio Grande. He it is who gives trouble to the frontier colonists of Texas, and equally harasses the Spanish settlements of New Mexico; he it is who carries his forays almost into the heart of New Spain,—even to the gates of the populous Durango.
Regarding the Comanche, then, as the type of the horse-Indians, we shall speak more particularly of him. Allowing for some slight difference in the character of his climate and country, his habits and customs will be found not very dissimilar to those of the other tribes who make the prairie their home.
To say that the Comanche is the finest horseman in the world would be to state what is not the fact. He is not more excellent in this accomplishment than his neighbor and bitter foeman, the Pawnee,—no better than the “vaquero” of California, the “ranchero” of Mexico, the “llanero” of Venezuela, the “gaucho” of Buenos Ayres, and the horse-Indians of the “Gran Chaco” of Paraguay, of the Pampas, and Patagonia. He is equal, however, to any of these, and that is saying enough,—in a word, that he takes rank among the finest horsemen in the world.
The Comanche is on horseback almost from the hour of infancy,—transferred, as it were, from his mother’s arms to the withers of a mustang. When able to walk, he is scarce allowed to practise this natural mode of progression, but performs all his movements on the back of a horse. A Comanche would no more think of making a journey afoot—even if it were only to the distance of a few hundred yards—than he would of crawling upon his hands and knees. The horse, ready saddled and bridled, stands ever near,—it differs little whether there is either saddle or bridle,—and flinging himself on the animal’s back, or his neck, or his croup, or hanging suspended along his side, the Indian guides him to the destined spot, usually at a rapid gallop. It is of no consequence to the rider how fast the horse may be going: it will not hinder him from mounting or dismounting at will. At any time, by clutching the mane, he can spring upon the horse’s shoulders,—just as may be often seen in the arena of the circus.
The horse-Indian is a true type of the nomadic races,—a dweller in tents, which his four-footed associate enables him to transport from place to place with the utmost facility. Some of the tribes, however, and even some of the Comanches, have fixed residences, or “villages,” where at a certain season of the year they—or rather their women—cultivate the maize, the pumpkin, the melon, the calabash, and a few other species of plants,—all being vegetable products indigenous to their country. No doubt, before the arrival of Europeans, this cultivation was carried on more extensively than at present; but the possession of the horse has enabled the prairie tribes to dispense with a calling which they cordially contemn: the calling of the husbandman.
These misguided savages, one and all, regard agricultural pursuits as unworthy of men; and wherever necessity compels them to practise them, the work falls to the lot of the women and slaves,—for be it known that the Comanche is a slave-owner; and holds in bondage not only Indians of other tribes, but also a large number of mestizoes and whites of the Spanish race, captured during many a sanguinary raid into the settlements of Mexico! It would be easy to show that it is this false pride of being hunters and warriors, with its associated aversion for an agricultural life, that has thinned the numbers of the Indian race—far more than any persecution they have endured at the hands of the white man. This it is that starves them, that makes unendurable neighbors of them, and has rendered it necessary in some instances to “civilize them off the face of the earth.”
But they are not yet all civilized from off the face of the earth; nor is it their destiny to disappear so readily as short-seeing prophets have declared. Their idle habits and internecine wars have done much to thin their numbers,—far more than the white man’s hostility,—but wherever the white man has stepped in and put a stop to their tribal contentions,—wherever he has succeeded in conquering their aversion to industrial pursuits,—the Indian is found not only to hold his ground, but to increase rapidly in numbers. This is the case with many tribes,—Creeks, Choctaws, and Cherokees,—so that I can promise you, young reader, that by the time you get to be an old man, there will be as many Indians in the world as upon that day when Columbus first set his foot upon “Cat” Island.
You will be inquiring how the horse could render the prairie Indian more independent of agriculture? The answer is simple. With this valuable auxiliary a new mode of subsistence was placed within his reach. An article of food, which he had hitherto been able to obtain only in a limited quantity, was now procurable in abundance,—the flesh of the buffalo.
The prairies of North America have their own peculiarities. They are not stocked with large droves of ruminant animals, as the plains of Southern Africa,—where the simplest savage may easily obtain a dinner of flesh-meat. A few species of deer, thinly distributed,—all swift, shy animals,—the prong-horn antelope, still swifter and shier,—and the “big-horn,” shiest of all,—were the only ruminants of Prairie-land, with the exception of the great bison, or buffalo, as he is generally called. But even this last was not so easily captured in those days. The bison, though not a swift runner, is yet more than a match for the biped man; and though the Indian might steal upon the great drove, and succeed in bringing down a few with his arrows, it was not always a sure game. Moreover, afoot, the hunter could not follow the buffalo in its grand migrations,—often extending for hundreds of miles across plains, rivers, and ravines. Once mounted, the circumstances became changed. The Indian hunter could not only overtake the buffalo, but ride round him at will, and pursue him, if need be, to the most distant parts of Prairie-land. The result, therefore, of the introduction of the horse was a plentiful supply of buffalo-meat, or, when that failed, the flesh of the horse himself,—upon which two articles of diet the prairie Indian has almost exclusively subsisted ever since.
The Comanche has several modes of hunting the buffalo. If alone, and he wishes to make a grand coup, he will leave his horse at a distance,—the animal being trained to remain where his master has left him. The hunter then approaches the herd with great caution, keeping to leeward,—lest he might be “winded” by the old sentinel bulls who keep watch. Should there be no cover to shelter the approach of the hunter, the result would be that the bulls would discover him; and, giving out their bellow of alarm, cause the others to scamper off.