Henry Chatillon
Again Dispatched The Horse To The Village, With A Message To His
Squaw That She And Her Relatives Should Leave The Rest And Push On As
Rapidly As Possible To Our Camp.
Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a well-ordered
household.
The weather-beaten old tree was in the center; our rifles
generally rested against its vast trunk, and our saddles were flung
on the ground around it; its distorted roots were so twisted as to
form one or two convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in the
shade and read or smoke; but meal-times became, on the whole, the
most interesting hours of the day, and a bountiful provision was made
for them. An antelope or a deer usually swung from a stout bough,
and haunches were suspended against the trunk. That camp is
daguerreotyped on my memory; the old tree, the white tent, with Shaw
sleeping in the shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge close by
the bank of the stream. It was a wretched oven-shaped structure,
made of begrimed and tattered buffalo hides stretched over a frame of
poles; one side was open, and at the side of the opening hung the
powder horn and bullet pouch of the owner, together with his long red
pipe, and a rich quiver of otterskin, with a bow and arrows; for
Reynal, an Indian in most things but color, chose to hunt buffalo
with these primitive weapons. In the darkness of this cavern-like
habitation, might be discerned Madame Margot, her overgrown bulk
stowed away among her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and
painted cases of PAR' FLECHE, in which dried meat is kept. Here she
sat from sunrise to sunset, a bloated impersonation of gluttony and
laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was smoking, or begging
petty gifts from us, or telling lies concerning his own achievements,
or perchance engaged in the more profitable occupation of cooking
some preparation of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this
work; he and Delorier have joined forces and are hard at work
together over the fire, while Raymond spreads, by way of tablecloth,
a buffalo hide, carefully whitened with pipeclay, on the grass before
the tent. Here, with ostentatious display, he arranges the teacups
and plates; and then, creeping on all fours like a dog, he thrusts
his head in at the opening of the tent. For a moment we see his
round owlish eyes rolling wildly, as if the idea he came to
communicate had suddenly escaped him; then collecting his scattered
thoughts, as if by an effort, he informs us that supper is ready, and
instantly withdraws.
When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and desolate scene would
assume a new aspect, the horses were driven in. They had been
grazing all day in the neighboring meadow, but now they were picketed
close about the camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed
around the fire, until becoming drowsy we spread our saddles on the
ground, wrapped our blankets around us and lay down.
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