Whatever skill he might have
boasted, he had not the most promising materials to exercise it upon.
He set before me, however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt
pork. It seemed like a new phase of existence, to be seated once
more on a bench, with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and
something resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed delicious,
and the bread was a most welcome novelty, since for three weeks I had
eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that for the most part without
salt. The meal also had the relish of good company, for opposite to
me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. If one is anxious thoroughly to
appreciate the value of a congenial companion, he has only to spend a
few weeks by himself in an Ogallalla village. And if he can contrive
to add to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhat critical illness,
his perceptions upon this subject will be rendered considerably more
vivid.
Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the Fort. I found him
established in his old quarters, a large apartment usually occupied
by the absent bourgeois. In one corner was a soft and luxuriant pile
of excellent buffalo robes, and here I lay down. Shaw brought me
three books.
"Here," said he, "is your Shakespeare and Byron, and here is the Old
Testament, which has as much poetry in it as the other two put
together."
I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of that day
lay on the buffalo robes, fairly reveling in the creations of that
resplendent genius which has achieved no more signal triumph than
that of half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and unmanly character
of its possessor.
CHAPTER XX
THE LONELY JOURNEY
On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I were lounging on
two buffalo robes in the large apartment hospitably assigned to us;
Henry Chatillon also was present, busy about the harness and weapons,
which had been brought into the room, and two or three Indians were
crouching on the floor, eyeing us with their fixed, unwavering gaze.
"I have been well off here," said Shaw, "in all respects but one;
there is no good shongsasha to be had for love or money."
I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excellent quality,
which I had brought from the Black Hills.
"Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's chopping-board, or give it to
that Indian, and let him cut the mixture; they understand it better
than any white man."
The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and the tobacco in
due proportions, filled the pipe and lighted it. This done, my
companion and I proceeded to deliberate on our future course of
proceeding; first, however, Shaw acquainted me with some incidents
which had occurred at the fort during my absence.
