He
Was A Proof Of What Unaided Nature Will Sometimes Do.
I have never,
in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man than my noble and
true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon.
We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly upon the broad
prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed us, riding his little shaggy
pony at a "lope"; his calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay
handkerchief bound around his snaky hair fluttering in the wind. At
noon we stopped to rest not far from a little creek replete with
frogs and young turtles. There had been an Indian encampment at the
place, and the framework of their lodges still remained, enabling us
very easily to gain a shelter from the sun, by merely spreading one
or two blankets over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our saddles, and
Shaw for the first time lighted his favorite Indian pipe; while
Delorier was squatted over a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with
one hand, and holding a little stick in the other, with which he
regulated the hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses were
turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low oozy meadow. A
drowzy springlike sultriness pervaded the air, and the voices of ten
thousand young frogs and insects, just awakened into life, rose in
varied chorus from the creek and the meadows.
Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. This was an old
Kansas Indian; a man of distinction, if one might judge from his
dress.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 16 of 486
Words from 3989 to 4250
of 129303
