The Prairie-Bird

by Sir Charles Augustus Murray

On the following morning before sunrise, Besha was aroused by Wingenund, who told him that he had news of great importance to communicate to the Crow chiefs, and that no time should be lost before they were summoned to council. The horse–dealer rubbed his eyes as he wakened by degrees and listened to this intelligence, which he suspected at first to be some trick on the part of the youth for the liberation of his friends; but there was an earnest simplicity in his manner that carried conviction with it; and Besha endeavoured, as he threw on his hunting–shirt, and fastened his belt, to learn from the youth the nature and purport of his intelligence. The latter seemed, however, to be in no very communicative mood; he merely replied; “Wingenund speaks not the Upsaroka tongue; let Besha repeat to the council word after word what he hears, that will be enough; he will serve both the Crows and the Delawares, and will obtain thanks and presents from both. Let Mahéga, too, be called to attend the council.”

The horse–dealer having departed upon his errand, Wingenund found an opportunity to detail briefly to Paul Müller and Ethelston the discovery that he had made on the preceding evening; but it may well be imagined that he could obtain from neither any information respecting the mountain tribe with whom the Osage was carrying on his treacherous intrigue.

“Let my son boldly speak the truth,” said the missionary, “and leave the result to God.”

“Wingenund never told a lie,” replied the young Delaware; and the bright, fearless expression of his countenance warranted the proud assertion.

“How many are there in our crowded cities and churches,” said the missionary, looking after the youth as he re–entered the horse–dealer’s lodge, “who dare echo that speech? yet methinks, as far as memory and conscience serve him, he has said no more than the truth. I have known him from his childhood, and believe him to be as much a stranger to falsehood as to fear.”

“They are cousins–german, my worthy friend,” said Ethelston, “and generally dwell together! I wonder not at the affection which Reginald bears to that youth; nature has stamped upon his countenance all the high and generous qualities that endear man to his brother. Let us endeavour to be present at the council which is now assembling; we have been such quiet prisoners that perhaps our guards will allow us to be spectators on this occasion.”

Besha happening to pass at this moment, obtained for them the desired permission, which was the more readily granted that the Crow sentries themselves were desirous of seeing what was going forward, and knew that no danger could be apprehended from the two unarmed captives. The spectacle that met their view when they issued from the lodge was striking and picturesque; runners had been sent throughout the camp, and all the principal chiefs, braves, and medicine–men were already assembled in a semicircle, the concave centre of which was formed by the lodge of White–Bull and his father, the latter of whom had put on for the occasion a magnificent head–dress of painted eagle–feathers which betokened his rank as head–chief of the band. The horse–dealer stood in front of his own lodge to the left, and frequent were the glances directed to him from all quarters, it having been generally understood that the council was summoned to consider matters brought forward by him. Behind him stood Wingenund, wrapped in a loose blanket, which partially concealed his features and covered entirely the rest of his person; on the opposite wing of the circle, and at a distance of twenty–five or thirty yards, stood Mahéga, his gigantic stature shown off to the best advantage by the warlike dress which he had put on complete for the solemn occasion, his neck and arms being covered with beads of various colours, and his fingers playing unconsciously with the weighty iron–pointed mace or war–club which had slain so many of those whose scalp–locks now fringed his leathern shirt and hose. The warriors and other Indians of inferior degree stood in the background, and some, anxious to get a better view of what was going forward, had perched themselves upon the adjoining rocks and cliffs, where their dusky forms, dimly seen through the mists which were now vanishing before the beams of the rising sun, gave a wild and picturesque effect to the scene.

Nearly half an hour was consumed by the soothsayers or medicine–men in going through their formal mummeries to ascertain whether the hour and the occasion were favourable for the proposed business, and it was not until the medicine–pipe had been passed round, and the chief functionary had turned gravely to the north, south, east, and west, blowing to each quarter successively a whiff of medicine–smoke, that he gave his permission for the council to proceed with its deliberations.

During all this time a profound silence reigned throughout the camp, the women suspending their scolding, chattering, and domestic avocations, and even the children peeping, half frightened, from behind their mothers, or stealing away to some spot where they might laugh and play without fear of being whipped for disturbing the solemnities.

The venerable father of White–Bull now returned the great pipe to the medicine–men, saying, in a voice distinctly audible throughout the circle: “Besha has called the chiefs and braves of the Upsaroka together; they are come—their ears are open—let the one–eyed man who brings horses from the far prairies, speak with a single tongue.”