“‘Non, non!’ he cry; ‘w’en de fire was vere close, he kills son cheval, and in de skin roll up de squaw, voyez?’
“Ah, dat was better—bien good! j’étais satisfait, moi!”
This was the most stirring part of Jean’s narrative, and therefore to save time and patience, I will relate the remainder, not in his but my words. The night was so dark, from the smoke obscuring the sky, that none but an Indian could have found his way back to where Jean had sat composedly, after watching the chief disappear toward the south on the former’s horse. Back he came, however, after the lapse of some hours, with a cheerful whoop, bearing in his arms his wife and child, the green skin having protected them while the fierce element swept over their heads.
The brave (for as yet Jean was ignorant of even the name of his companion) professed to be acquainted with the prairie thereabouts, and led them half a mile to an island in a moist hollow, which had not been touched by the conflagration; and here they all supped on the jerked meat which Jean chanced to have with him, all game being effectually frighted away. There is no need of following them on their journey, which was generally in the neighborhood of the Missouri, for the sake of the deer and buffalos which had fled for refuge to the wooded ravines and valleys intersecting the banks, the young squaw and child riding, while the men walked at her side. Not far from the mouth of the Teton river they parted company, Jean to proceed to the station of the American Fur Company, and Ta-his-ka to rejoin his tribe, the former insisting on the horse being retained for the use of the young mother, whose slender frame had begun to waste away under a continuance of fatigue and excitement, for which the peculiar nature of her former life, so different from that of ordinary Indian girls, had rendered her totally unfit. There Jean learned for the first time the name of the chief—one long familiar to his ears—and the events already narrated.
He had not been more than a week at the company’s fort, when, with marks of the deepest grief and rage stamped on his countenance, Ta-his-ka presented himself before him; the child lay mutely in his arms, but no squaw—where was she?
“Ee-ohk paze!” (dark-dead,) was the laconic answer, but accompanied by a twitching of the mouth-corners, which showed how the fierce spirit was moved. It seemed that the numerous enemies jealousy of his fame and power had created among the Sioux, had taken advantage of the White-buffalo’s prolonged absence, to spread the most injurious and unfounded reports of his deeds, and growing bolder by degrees, asserted openly that Ta-his-ka had abandoned his tribe, delivered up the warriors who followed him to the knives of the Pawnees, and, won over by their gifts and promises, become a Pawnee himself. Thus when the chief re-appeared, he was charged before the council of braves with treachery of the most abhorrent kind, and his Pawnee wife cited as a proof of their accusations; and but for his well-remembered strength and resistless fortune, which no one cared to dispute, even his proud and indignant denial would scarcely have delivered him from his former companions on the war-path.
But the frail flower from the Platte had drooped and died on the return, and it was his wish now to leave the child in charge of some one to whom it might be safely intrusted. Jean related the circumstances to the wife of one of the company’s officers, who immediately adopted the infant until the chief should return to claim it. Thus it was that Wah (snow) had surprised us by the correctness of her English in the chief’s lodge; for even after he had become once more a powerful chief, he contented himself with occasional and secret visits to the station, and did not carry her home until about a year previous to our visit. The rest of the story may be told in a few words. Ta-his-ka crossed the river and wandered on until he arrived at a village of the Ioways. These people pleased him, and they were equally gratified by the presence of a warrior whose feats in their hunts or games appeared every day more marvelous; for, until the Pawnees, who had traced the fugitive to his retreat, claimed his person with threats, they were ignorant of the renown of their guest. The Ioways were too proud of their acquisition to pay much heed to the repeated menaces of the ambassadors, and their principal chief dying about that time, they chose the Sioux by acclamation to lead them against the Pawnees of the Platte. The old fire now returned to Ta-his-ka’s breast—he was once more the terrible medicine chief, (“Wakon,”) and the scourge of his old enemies, who, losing more scalps in each skirmish than they could hope to regain while the White-Buffalo led on, presently petitioned that the hatchet might be buried, and conducted themselves with a crafty obsequiousness Ta-his-ka took no pains to conceal his contempt of; and, in fact, as in the instance occurring the night of our stay in his village, by stern opposition to their evil plottings, occasionally brought to light the smouldering hate lurking in their breasts. The story of Wah—the snow-flake—which I heard nearly two years afterward, if less wild than that of her mother, the young Ka-morse, was more touching, and more tinged with delicate romance—one of those gentle episodes in the stir of prairie life, like the soft down under the bristling feathers of the fierce war-eagle’s wings.
| [4] | Mandan. |