Of Late, However, I Had Been Gaining Strength
Rapidly, As Was Always The Case Upon Every Respite Of My Disorder.
I
was soon able to walk with ease.
Raymond and I would go out upon the
neighboring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail
straggling buffalo, on foot, an attempt in which we met with rather
indifferent success. To kill a bull with a rifle-ball is a difficult
art, in the secret of which I was as yet very imperfectly initiated.
As I came out of Kongra-Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to
me from the opposite side of the village, and asked me over to
breakfast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It consisted of the
rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a repast absolutely unrivaled.
It was roasting before the fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which
Reynal took up and planted in the ground before his lodge; when he,
with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, unsheathed our
knives and assailed it with good will. It spite of all medical
experience, this solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed to agree
with me admirably.
"We shall have strangers here before night," said Reynal.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an Indian. There is the
Hail-Storm; he dreamed the same thing, and he and his crony, the
Rabbit, have gone out on discovery."
I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my host's lodge,
took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two on the prairie, saw an
old bull standing alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him and saw him
escape. Then, quite exhausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back
to the village. By a strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction had
been verified; for the first persons whom I saw were the two
trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me. These men, as the
reader may possibly recollect, had left our party about a fortnight
before. They had been trapping for a while among the Black Hills,
and were now on their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day
or two to set out for the neighboring Medicine Bow. They were not
the most elegant or refined of companions, yet they made a very
welcome addition to the limited society of the village. For the rest
of that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal's lodge. This
indeed was no better than a little hut, made of hides stretched on
poles, and entirely open in front. It was well carpeted with soft
buffalo robes, and here we remained, sheltered from the sun,
surrounded by various domestic utensils of Madame Margot's household.
All was quiet in the village. Though the hunters had not gone out
that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and most of the women
were silently engaged in their heavy tasks. A few young men were
playing a lazy game of ball in the center of the village; and when
they became tired, some girls supplied their place with a more
boisterous sport. At a little distance, among the lodges, some
children and half-grown squaws were playfully tossing up one of their
number in a buffalo robe, an exact counterpart of the ancient pastime
from which Sancho Panza suffered so much. Farther out on the
prairie, a host of little naked boys were roaming about, engaged in
various rough games, or pursuing birds and ground-squirrels with
their bows and arrows; and woe to the unhappy little animals that
fell into their merciless, torture-loving hands! A squaw from the
next lodge, a notable active housewife named Weah Washtay, or the
Good Woman, brought us a large bowl of wasna, and went into an
ecstasy of delight when I presented her with a green glass ring, such
as I usually wore with a view to similar occasions.
The sun went down and half the sky was growing fiery red, reflected
on the little stream as it wound away among the sagebushes. Some
young men left the village, and soon returned, driving in before them
all the horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and
color. The hunters came out, and each securing those that belonged
to him, examined their condition, and tied them fast by long cords to
stakes driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour before the
bustle subsided and tranquillity was restored again. By this time it
was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the blazing fires, around
which the squaws were gathered with their children, laughing and
talking merrily. A circle of a different kind was formed in the
center of the village. This was composed of the old men and warriors
of repute, who with their white buffalo robes drawn close around
their shoulders, sat together, and as the pipe passed from hand to
hand, their conversation had not a particle of the gravity and
reserve usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down with them as usual.
I had in my hand half a dozen squibs and serpents, which I had made
one day when encamped upon Laramie Creek, out of gunpowder and
charcoal, and the leaves of "Fremont's Expedition," rolled round a
stout lead pencil. I waited till I contrived to get hold of the
large piece of burning BOIS DE VACHE which the Indians kept by them
on the ground for lighting their pipes. With this I lighted all the
fireworks at once, and tossed them whizzing and sputtering into the
air, over the heads of the company. They all jumped up and ran off
with yelps of astonishment and consternation. After a moment or two,
they ventured to come back one by one, and some of the boldest,
picking up the cases of burnt paper that were scattered about,
examined them with eager curiosity to discover their mysterious
secret. From that time forward I enjoyed great repute as a "fire-
medicine."
The camp was filled with the low hum of cheerful voices.
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