Delorier Lashed And Swore Till He Was Tired, But Hendrick
Stood Like A Rock, Grumbling To Himself And Looking Askance
At his
enemy, until he saw a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when
he struck out under the shaft
With such cool malignity of intention
that Delorier only escaped the blow by a sudden skip into the air,
such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve. Shaw and he then
joined forces, and lashed on both sides at once. The brute stood
still for a while till he could bear it no longer, when all at once
he began to kick and plunge till he threatened the utter demolition
of the cart and harness. We glanced back at the camp, which was in
full sight. Our companions, inspired by emulation, were leveling
their tents and driving in their cattle and horses.
"Take the horse out," said I.
I took the saddle from Pontiac and put it upon Hendrick; the former
was harnessed to the cart in an instant. "Avance donc!" cried
Delorier. Pontiac strode up the hill, twitching the little cart
after him as if it were a feather's weight; and though, as we gained
the top, we saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into
motion, we had little fear that they could overtake us. Leaving the
trail, we struck directly across the country, and took the shortest
cut to reach the main stream of the Platte. A deep ravine suddenly
intercepted us. We skirted its sides until we found them less
abrupt, and then plunged through the best way we could. Passing
behind the sandy ravines called "Ash Hollow," we stopped for a short
nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water; but soon resumed our
journey, and some hours before sunset were descending the ravines and
gorges opening downward upon the Platte to the west of Ash Hollow.
Our horses waded to the fetlock in sand; the sun scorched like fire,
and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes.
At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about five miles, we
saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great meadow, dotted with
hundreds of cattle, and beyond them an emigrant encampment. A party
of about a dozen came out to meet us, looking upon us at first with
cold and suspicious faces. Seeing four men, different in appearance
and equipment from themselves, emerging from the hills, they had
taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, whom they were very
apprehensive of encountering. We made known our true character, and
then they greeted us cordially. They expressed much surprise that so
small a party should venture to traverse that region, though in fact
such attempts are not unfrequently made by trappers and Indian
traders. We rode with them to their camp. The wagons, some fifty in
number, with here and there a tent intervening, were arranged as
usual in a circle; in the area within the best horses were picketed,
and the whole circumference was glowing with the dusky light of the
fires, displaying the forms of the women and children who were
crowded around them. This patriarchal scene was curious and striking
enough; but we made our escape from the place with all possible
dispatch, being tormented by the intrusive curiosity of the men who
crowded around us. Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They
demanded our names, where we came from, where we were going, and what
was our business. The last query was particularly embarrassing;
since traveling in that country, or indeed anywhere, from any other
motive than gain, was an idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet
they were fine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, generosity,
and even courtesy, having come from one of the least barbarous of the
frontier counties.
We passed about a mile beyond them, and encamped. Being too few in
number to stand guard without excessive fatigue, we extinguished our
fire, lest it should attract the notice of wandering Indians; and
picketing our horses close around us, slept undisturbed till morning.
For three days we traveled without interruption, and on the evening
of the third encamped by the well-known spring on Scott's Bluff.
Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and descending the
western side of the Bluff, were crossing the plain beyond. Something
that seemed to me a file of buffalo came into view, descending the
hills several miles before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and
keenly peering across the prairie with a better and more practiced
eye, soon discovered its real nature. "Indians!" he said. "Old
Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come! let us go! Wah! get up, now, Five
Hundred Dollar!" And laying on the lash with good will, he galloped
forward, and I rode by his side. Not long after, a black speck
became visible on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew larger
and larger; it assumed the form of a man and horse; and soon we could
discern a naked Indian, careering at full gallop toward us. When
within a furlong he wheeled his horse in a wide circle, and made him
describe various mystic figures upon the prairie; and Henry
immediately compelled Five Hundred Dollar to execute similar
evolutions. "It IS Old Smoke's village," said he, interpreting these
signals; "didn't I say so?"
As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, when suddenly he
vanished, sinking, as it were, into the earth. He had come upon one
of the deep ravines that everywhere intersect these prairies. In an
instant the rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge
and the rider and steed came scrambling out, and hounded up to us; a
sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild panting horse to a full
stop. Then followed the needful formality of shaking hands. I
forget our visitor's name. He was a young fellow, of no note in his
nation; yet in his person and equipments he was a good specimen of a
Dakota warrior in his ordinary traveling dress.
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