The fattest of the herd was selected
by the hunters, who all fired together and brought down their
victim.
Besides the buffaloes they saw abundance of deer, and frequent
gangs of stately elks, together with light troops of sprightly
antelopes, the fleetest and most beautiful inhabitants of the
prairies.
There are two kinds of antelopes in these regions, one nearly the
size of the common deer, the other not much larger than a goat.
Their color is a light gray, or rather dun, slightly spotted with
white; and they have small horns like those of the deer, which
they never shed. Nothing can surpass the delicate and elegant
finish of their limbs, in which lightness, elasticity, and
strength are wonderfully combined. All the attitudes and
movements of this beautiful animal are graceful and picturesque;
and it is altogether as fit a subject for the fanciful uses of
the poet as the oft-sung gazelle of the East.
Their habits are shy and capricious; they keep on the open
plains, are quick to take the alarm, and bound away with a
fleetness that defies pursuit. When thus skimming across a
prairie in the autumn, their light gray or dun color blends with
the hue of the withered herbage, the swiftness of their motion
baffles the eye, and they almost seem unsubstantial forms, driven
like gossamer before the wind.
While they thus keep to the open plain and trust to their speed,
they are safe; but they have a prurient curiosity that sometimes
betrays them to their ruin. When they have scud for some distance
and left their pursuer behind, they will suddenly stop and turn
to gaze at the object of their alarm. If the pursuit is not
followed up they will, after a time, yield to their inquisitive
hankering, and return to the place from whence they have been
frightened.
John Day, the veteran hunter already mentioned, displayed his
experience and skill in entrapping one of these beautiful
animals. Taking advantage of its well known curiosity, he laid
down flat among the grass, and putting his handkerchief on the
end of his ramrod, waved it gently in the air. This had the
effect of the fabled fascination of the rattlesnake. The antelope
approached timidly, pausing and reconnoitering with increased
curiosity; moving round the point of attraction in a circle, but
still drawing nearer and nearer, until being within range of the
deadly rifle, he fell a victim to his curiosity.
On the 10th of June, as the party were making brisk progress with
a fine breeze, they met a canoe with three Indians descending the
river. They came to a parley, and brought news from the Arickara
village. The war party, which had caused such alarm at the sand-
bar, had reached the village some days previously, announced the
approach of a party of traders, and displayed with great
ostentation the presents they had received from them. On further
conversation with these three Indians, Mr. Hunt learnt the real
danger which he had run, when hemmed up within the sand-bar. The
Mandans who were of the war party, when they saw the boat so
completely entrapped and apparently within their power, had been
eager for attacking it, and securing so rich a prize. The
Minatarees, also, were nothing loath, feeling in some measure
committed in hostility to the whites, in consequence of their
tribe having killed two white men above the fort of the Missouri
Fur Company. Fortunately, the Arickaras, who formed the majority
of the war party, proved true in their friendship to the whites,
and prevented any hostile act, otherwise a bloody affray, and
perhaps a horrible massacre might have ensued.
On the 11th of June, Mr. Hunt and his companions encamped near an
island about six miles below the Arickara village. Mr. Lisa
encamped, as usual, at no great distance; but the same sullen
jealous reserve and non-intercourse continued between them.
Shortly after pitching the tents, Mr. Breckenridge made his
appearance as an ambassador from the rival camp. He came on
behalf of his companions, to arrange the manner of making their
entrance into the village and of receiving the chiefs; for
everything of the kind is a matter of grave ceremonial among the
Indians.
The partners now expressed frankly their deep distrust of the
intentions of Mr. Lisa, and their apprehensions, that, out of the
jealousy of trade, and resentment of recent disputes, he might
seek to instigate the Arickaras against them. Mr. Breckenridge
assured them that their suspicions were entirely groundless, and
pledged himself that nothing of the kind should take place. He
found it difficult, however, to remove their distrust; the
conference, therefore, ended without producing any cordial
understanding; and M'Lellan recurred to his old threat of
shooting Lisa the instant he discovered anything like treachery
in his proceedings.
That night the rain fell in torrents, accompanied by thunder and
lightning. The camp was deluged, and the bedding and baggage
drenched. All hands embarked at an early hour, and set forward
for the village. About nine o'clock, when half way, they met a
canoe, on board of which were two Arickara dignitaries. One, a
fine-looking man, much above the common size, was hereditary
chief of the village; he was called the Left-handed, on account
of a personal peculiarity. The other, a ferocious-looking savage,
was the war chief, or generalissimo; he was known by the name of
the Big Man, an appellation he well deserved from his size, for
he was of a gigantic frame. Both were of fairer complexion than
is usual with savages.
They were accompanied by an interpreter; a French creole, one of
those haphazard wights of Gallic origin who abound upon our
frontiers, living among the Indians like one of their own race.
He had been twenty years among the Arickaras, had a squaw and
troop of piebald children, and officiated as interpreter to the
chiefs.
