The buffaloes are watched until they graze near a precipice, when two or three Indians put a buffalo skin on sticks, and concealing themselves under it, approach near the herd slowly, as if grazing. This must be done when the wind is favorable, and blowing from the buffaloes. If the decoy is successful, other Indians make a wide circuit, surrounding the herd on all sides, except that toward the bluff. Then they steal up as close as possible, and when the buffaloes, discover them, they shout, shake their blankets and poles, and close in upon the herd. The animals are greatly alarmed, but seeing the mock buffalo (which has managed to attract attention) set off for the bluffs, they rush madly after it. When the baiters reach the bluff, they fling the mock buffalo over the precipice, and betake themselves to holes in the bank or crevices among the rocks. It is in vain the leaders of the herd halt when they see the chasm; the mass from behind, crazed by the poles and blankets of the Indians, who are now close upon them, rush madly on, and press those in front over the cliff.
It is exceedingly dangerous to bait buffalo, as the herd frequently overtake the false buffalo and trample it beneath their feet, or the great beasts, falling among the rock, crush the Indian baiters to death. Many reckless young Indians, who as baiters have gone too far inland, have, after the chase, been found dead on the plain, or their mangled bodies lay at the foot of the precipice with the carcasses of the animals they had so cruelly deceived. It takes a brave Indian to be a baiter, but there are always plenty of young and foolish boys who are anxious to engage in the dangerous sport.
After the buffaloes have fallen and killed or maimed themselves, a party of Indians who have been concealed near the foot of the precipice suddenly advance and finish them with axes and rifles.
Our hunt having ended, the chief ordered that the usual feast and rejoicing should take place. A long pole was provided, a buffalo head put on the top of it, and a number of tails nailed, at right angles, to the sides. The pole was then set firmly in the ground, in the center of an open space before the village, and buffalo heads were piled up around it. The heads were set in a circle, and arranged to look as hideous as possible.
Immense quantities of buffalo meat were now brought, and the feast was made ready. At these feasts nothing but buffalo meat is eaten, and every one makes it a point to gorge himself to the fullest extent. Even the dogs are stuffed, and the women and children are persuaded to eat while they can force down a bite. The greater the quantity of meat eaten, the greater the honor; and some starve themselves for two or three days in advance, in order to do justice to the occasion. The meat is prepared in every form—boiled, fried, broiled, roasted, and raw.
When one can eat no more, he goes to the pole, and as soon as a sufficient number have collected, the dance begins. The warriors sit in a circle around the pole, and the squaws, gaudily dressed and painted, form a circle around the warriors. At a signal the drums beat, and all stand up. Then the squaws sing, and the warriors move around to the right and the squaws to the left, each keeping time to the drums. The dance is a slow, shuffling motion that soon makes one very tired. When one of the Indians gets tired, he steps out of the circle and another takes his place. As soon as it is dark, wood is brought, fires are made around the pole, and the dancing is kept up all night. The feasting frequently continues for three days, and at no time is the pole without its set of dancers. The amount of buffalo consumed is prodigious, when we consider that, besides the vast quantities eaten by the Indians, each family has from six to ten days.
When the feast was over, we began to prepare in earnest for our return. The meat was carefully distributed, so that no pony would be overloaded, and everything was neatly packed. It took both my ponies and all my dogs to carry my meat and lodge, so Washtella and I had to walk. We considered this no great hardship, however, as nearly the whole village was on foot. We made only eight or ten miles a day; but at last, after a most fatiguing march, reached the Missouri, and entered our old camp near Fort Randall.
—From "Belden the White Chief".
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