Oct. 10, 1889.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



223 



smiled still more cheerfully, and set to work "butcher- 



' ifijA animal was a superb specimen, just entering his 

 prime, and was fat, round and sleek. His horns were 

 symmetrically curved and beautifully polished. Not a 

 scratch marred their shining surfaces, nor a splinter was 

 frayed from their sharp points. The sweeping black 

 beard was long and full, and the thick curls upon his 

 hump and massive shoulders were soft and deep, while 

 the short hah- of his sides and hips was smooth as the coat 

 of a horse. His size was enormous. It seemed that he 

 would have turned the scale at quite two thousand 

 pounds. Certainly his weight exceeded that of both the 

 fifteen-hand ponies that stood beside him. 



A few moments later, I was again m the saddle, and 

 riding on along the course taken by the remaining buffalo, 

 for I was anxious to see what had become of them. On 

 roundiug the point of the bluff, where I had last seen 

 them, my curiosity was satisfied. The valley here wid- 

 ened 'out until it was perhaps sixty yards across, and on 

 either side rose vertical bluffs of yellow chalk to a height 

 of forty feet. Scattered about over the little plain, lay 

 half a dozen buffalo, over each of which bent one or two 

 Indians busily plying the knife. At the foot of the bluff 

 atone side of the valley stood four or five others, looking 

 at a cow, perched on a narrow shelf ten feet below the 

 top. I shall never understand how that animal readied 

 the'position it occupied. There was evidently no way of 

 getting to it except by jumping up from below, which 

 was obviously impossible— or down from above, which 

 seemed out of the question. The shelf was so short that 

 the animal could move neither backward nor forward, 

 and was just wide enough for it to stand on. As I rode 

 up and 'joined the little group above it, the head and 

 shoulders of a middle-aged Indian appeared over the top 

 of the bluff, above the cow. He lay down flat on his 

 breast, and holding in both hands an old-fashioned muz- 

 zle-loading pistol, attempted to shoot the cow from above, 

 but his old arm would not go off. He snapped it half a 

 dozen times, and then, discouraged, called out something 

 to us below. One of the boys turned to me, and said 

 very slowly and distinctly, "He say, you shoot." I 

 therefore dismounted, and fired at the cow, which re- 

 sponded by shaking her head angrily, and whisking her 

 short tail. Another call came from the old fellow on top 

 of the bluff, and the young man said to me, "He say, you 

 hit her: right spot." A moment later, the cow bent for- 

 ward and fell on her knees, and the Indian above dropped 

 down on her back. ' 



Turning my horse's head in the direction from which I 

 had come, I rode up through a side ravine on to the high 

 prairie. A mile away I could see the column of march- 

 ing Indians, plodding along at their old slow pace. Here 

 and. there, over the rolling hills, dark forms were visible, 

 some of them in rapid motion, others apparently station- 

 ary. Often it was impossible to determine whether these 

 fi>ures were horsemen or buffalo, but sometimes, far 

 away, I could see a mimic chase in which pursuer and 

 pursued appeared no larger than ants. 



As I came up with the Indians, they were just descend- 

 ing into the stream bottom, where camp was to be made. 

 The small boys had, as usual, dispersed themselves over 

 the valley and among the underbrush. Many of the 

 squaws, leaving the ponies and packs to their sister-wives 

 or children, were hurrying up or down the stream to 

 gather wood. Already the leading ponies were being re- 

 lieved of their loads. Suddenly, from the mouth of a 

 little ravine coming down into the stream bottom, rose a 

 chorus of shrill yelps and shrieks from childish throats, 

 and a gang of wild turkeys were seen, running rapidly 

 through the high grass toward the hills. A moment 

 later, with a loud quit-ginl of alarm, they took wing, 

 but not before several of their number had fallen before 

 the missiles of the boys. Most of them went up or down 

 the creek, but one inexperienced bird took its course 

 directly over our heads. 



Those who have seen the Indian only ©n dress parade, 

 talk of his stolidity, impassiveness, and his marvelous 

 control over his countenance and his emotions. This de- 

 meanor he can and does assume, and when he is with 

 white men. or among strangers, he is usually ail that he 

 has been pictured; but take him by himself, and he ex- 

 presses his feelings with as little restraint as a child. So 

 it was now. No grave chief, no battle-scarred warrior, 

 nor mighty worker of ti-war' -uks-ti (magic) was too 

 dignified to express his interest at the appearance of this 

 great bird sailing laboriously along, thirty or forty feet 

 above him. It was as if the turkey had flown over a 

 great company of schoolboys, and the utter abandonment 

 of the excited multitude, the entire absence of restraint, 

 the perfect naturalness of the expression of feeling, had 

 in them something very delightful and infectious. Every 

 Indian, who held in his hand anything that was light 

 enough to throw, hurled it at the bird, and a crowd of 

 whips, sticks, hatchets, fleshers, and arrows, rose to 

 meet it as it passed along. One missile knocked from its 

 tail a few long feathers, which drifted slowly down on 

 the heads of the people. It kept on, but before it had 

 passed beyond the long line of Indians extending back 

 over the plain, its strength became exhausted, it came to 

 the ground, and was at once dispatched by those nearest 

 to it. 



Almost before the turkey's fate had been decided, 

 many of the lodges had been pitched, and now the slender 

 gray columns from a hundred camp-fires began to climb 

 up through the still air toward the blue above. The 

 women were hard at work cooking, or spreading out 

 freshly killed robes, or putting up drying scaffolds, while 

 the men lounged in the shade and smoked or chatted. 

 Our wagon was halted at one side of the camp, and the 

 tired horses and mules were stripped of saddles and har- 

 ness, and picketed near at hand. The Indian pack ponies 

 were collected and driven off on the upland in charge of 

 several boys. 



rv. 



We had invitations to eat meat at several lodges that 

 day. Usually we did not accept these freely proffered 

 hospitalities, because we had no means of returning them, 

 but one of these invitations came from a particular 

 friend, and to-day we broke through our rule. We 

 feasted on roast ribs, ku'uns, and dried meat, and really 

 had a dehghtful time. It was about three o'clock when 

 we finished the meal, and we were lounging about the 

 lodge, smoking and chatting, in lazy after-dinner fashion, 

 when we were startled by a series of yells and shouts, 

 among which I distinguished the words "Cha-ra-rat tva- 

 ta'— The Sioux are coming." Our Indian companions 



snatched tip their arms, and rushed out of the lodge, and 

 we were not slow in following. l 'Suks-e-kitta-irit iris- 

 kuts — Get on your horses quick," shouted our host. The 

 camp was in a state of wild excitement. Naked men 

 were running to their horses, and jerking their lariats 

 from the picket pins, sprang on their backs and rode 

 hard for the bills; while women and boys rushed about, 

 oatching horses, and bringing them in among the lodges, 

 where they were securely fastened. Less than a mile 

 away , we saw the horse herd dashing along at top speed, 

 and a little to one side of it a horseman riding in circles, 

 and waving his blanket before him. It was evident that 

 the Sioux were trying to run off the herd. We ran as 

 hard as we could to the wagon, caught up rifles and cart- 

 ridge belts, and buckling on the latter as we ran, kept on 

 to the horses. There was no time to saddle up. We 

 looped the ropes around then' jaws, sprang on their naked 

 backs, and were off. As we rode up on the prairie, the 

 herd of ponies thundered by, and swept down the bluffs 

 to the camp. The rolling expanse before us was dotted 

 with Indians, each one urging forward his horse to its 

 speed. Many of them were already a long way in ad- 

 vance, and were passing over the furthest high bluff, 

 which seemed to rise up and meet the sky. Hard as we 

 might push our ponies, there was little hope that we 

 would be in time to have any hand in the encounter— if 

 one took place — between the Pawnees and their here- 

 ditary foes. 



We kept on until we reached the crest of the high bluff. 

 From here we could see far off over the plain, dozens of 

 black dots strung out after one another. Nearer at hand, 

 other Indians, whose steeds, like ours, had proved too 

 slow for the swift pursuit, were riding back toward us, 

 showing in their faces the disappointment which they 

 felt at being left behind. With these we turned about, 

 and rode toward the camp. Among them was one of the 

 herd boys, for the moment a hero, who had to repeat his 

 story again and again. He had been sitting on top of a 

 hill, not far from the horses, when he discovered several 

 Sioux stealing toward them through a ravine. Signaling 

 his comrades, they succeeded in getting the herd in 

 motion before the robbers had approached very close to 

 them. Eight of the slowest horses had dropped behind 

 during the flight, and had no doubt fallen into the hands 

 of the enemy. 



One by one, the Indians came straggling back to camp 

 during the afternoon and evening, but it was not until 

 late that night that the main body of the pursuers came 

 in. They had ten extra horses, two of which they had 

 taken in turn from the Sioux. They had no scalps, how- 

 ever, for they had been unable to overtake the enemy. 



Long we sat that night t by the fire in Pita Le-shar's 

 lodge, talking over the exciting events of the afternoon; 

 and as we rose to go to our wagons, and said good-night, 

 the old man, who had been silently gazing into the coals 

 for some time, looked up at me and smiled, saying, 

 Wa-ti-hes ti-kot-it ti-ra-hah — To-morrow we will kill 

 buffalo." 



v. 



When we turned out of our blankets the next morning, 

 a heavy mist hung over the prairie. This was unfortu- 

 nate, for so long as the fog lasted it would be impossible 

 for the scouts to see far enough to discover the buffalo. 

 The first few hours of the march were uneventful. Once 

 or twice the huge bodies of a small band of buffalo 

 loomed up through the white mist about us, their size and 

 shape greatly exaggerated and distorted by its deceptive 

 effect. As the sun climbed toward the zenith, the air 

 grew brighter, and by mid-day the fog had risen from 

 the ground, and though still clinging in white cottony 

 wreaths about the tops of the higher bluffs near us, we 

 now could see for quite a long distance over the prairie. 

 A little latter the sun burst forth, and the sky became 

 clear. Soon after noon we went into camp. 



We had just begun our dinner, when a runner was seen 

 coming at full gallop down the bluff. It was one of the 

 scouts. He dashed through the village, and did not check 

 his pony's speed until he had reached old Pi'ta Le-shar's 

 lodge. Here he stopped, and bending from his horse 

 spoke a few words very earnestly, gesticulating and point- 

 ing back over the prairie in the direction whence he had 

 come. As he rode on and past us, he called out, " Te eo' 

 di tut-tu-ta-rik ti-ra-hah— I saw many buffalo," and we 

 shouted back to him, " Tu-ra-heh— It is good." 



At once the women began to take down the lodges and 

 pack the ponies. Buffalo had been discovered about fif- 

 teen miles to the southwest, and orders had been issued 

 to remove the village to the creek on which they were 

 feeding, while the men should go on at once and make 

 the surround. Our teamster, to whom the Indians 

 had already, from his occupation, given the name "Jack- 

 ass Chief," was directed to move with the camp; and 

 leaving everything save guns and ammunition belts in 

 the w r agons, we joined the crowd of men who were riding 

 out of the village. 



The scene that we now beheld was such as might have 

 been witnessed here a hundred years ago. it is one that 

 can never be seen again. Here were eight hundred war- 

 riors, stark naked, and mounted on naked animals. A 

 strip of rawhide, or a lariat, knotted about the lower jaw, 

 was all their horses' furniture. Among ail these men 

 there was not a gun nor pistol, nor any indication that 

 they had ever met with the white men. For the moment 

 they had put aside whatever they had learned of civiliza- 

 tion. Then bows and arrows they held in their hands. 

 Armed with these ancestral weapons, they had become 

 once more the simple children of the plains, about to slay 

 the wild cattle that Ti-ra'-iva had given them for food. 

 Here was barbarism pure and simple. Here was nature. 



A brief halt was made on the upper prairie, until all 

 the riders had come up, and then, at a moderate gallop, 

 we set off. A few yards in advance rode the twenty- 

 four soldiers, at first curbing in their spirited little steeds, 

 till the horses' chins almost touched their chests, and 

 occasionally, by a simple motion of the hand, waving 

 back some impetuous boy, who pressed too close upon 

 them. Many of the Indians led a spare horse, still riding 

 the one that had carried them through the day. Often 

 two men would be seen mounted on the same animal, 

 the one behind having the lariats of two led horses 

 wound about his arm. Here and there a man, with his 

 arm over the horse's neck, would run along on foot by 



and rose and fell with it in the rhythmic swing of its 

 stride. The plain was peopled with Centaurs, Out over 

 each horse's croup floated the long black hair of his rider, 

 spread out on the wdngs of the breeze. Gradually the 

 slow gallop became a fast one. The flanks of the horses 

 showed here and there patches of wet, which glistened 

 in the slanting rays of the westering sun. Eight, ten, a 

 dozen miles had been left behind us, and we were ap- 

 proaching the top of a high bluff, when the signal was 

 given to halt. In a moment every man was off his horse, 

 but not a pony of them all showed any sign of distress, 

 nor gave any evidence of the work he had done, except 

 by his wet flanks and his highly accelerated breathing. 

 Two or three of the soldiers rode up nearly to the top of 

 the hill, dismounted and then peered over, and a moment 

 later, at another signal, all mounted and the swift gallop 

 began again. Over the ridge we passed, down the smooth 

 slope, and across a wide level plain, where the prairie 

 dogs and the owls and the rattlesnakes had their home. 

 Through the dog town we hurried on thundering hoofs, 

 no doubt amazing the dogs, and perhaps even arousing 

 some slight interest in the sluggish, stupid snakes. Bad 

 places these to ride through at such a pace, for a little 

 carelessness on your horse's part might cost him a broken 

 leg and you an ugly tumble. But no one took much 

 thought of dog town or horse or possible accident, for the 

 minds of all were upon the next high ridge, behind 

 which we felt sure that the buffalo would be found. 



And so it proved. Just before reaching it we were 

 again halted. Two of the soldiers reconnoitered. and 

 then signaled that the buffalo were in sight. The tired 

 horses were now turned loose and the extra ones 

 mounted. As we rode slowly up over the ridge, we saw 

 spread out before us a wide valley black with buffalo. 

 Two miles away, on the other side, rose steep ragged 

 bluffs, up which the clumsy buffalo would make but 

 slow progress, while* the ponies could run there nearly as 

 fast as on level ground. It was the very place that would 

 have been chosen for a surround. 



At least a thousand buffalo were lying down in the 

 midst of this amphitheater. Here and there, away from 

 the main herd on the lower hills, were old bulls, singly 

 and in twos and threes, some of them quietly chewing 

 the cud, others sullenly pawing up the dust, or grinding 

 their battered horns into the yellow dirt of the hillsides. 

 Not the slightest notice was taken of us as we rode down 

 the slope at a pace that was almost a run, but still held 

 in check by the soldiers. The orders for the charge had 

 not yet been given. Our line was now much more ex- 

 tended than it had been ; each man pressing as far for- 

 ward as he dared, and those on either flank being so far 

 ahead of the center that they were almost on a line with 

 the soldiers. We had covered perhaps half the distance 

 between the hilltop and the buffalo, when some of the 

 outlying bulls seemed to observe us, and after looking 

 for a moment or two, these started in rapid flight. This 

 attracted the attention of the herd, and when we were 

 yet half a mile from them, they took the alarm. At once 

 all were on their feet. For a moment they gazed be- 

 wildered at the dark line that was sweeping toward them, 

 and then down went every huge head and up flew every 

 little tail, and the herd was off in a headlong stampede 

 for the opposite hills. As they sprang to their feet, the 

 oldest man of the soldiers, who was riding in the center 

 of the line, turned back toward us and - uttered a shrill 

 Loo'-ali! It was the word we had waited for. 



Like an arrow from a bow each horse darted forward. 

 Now all restraint was removed, and each man might do 

 his best. What had been only a wild gallop became a 

 mad race. Each rider hoped to be the first to reach the 

 top of the opposite ridge, and to turn the buffalo back 

 into the valley, so that the surround might be completely 

 successful. How swift those little ponies were, and how 

 admirably the Indians managed to get out of them all 

 their speed! I had not gone much more than half way 

 across the valley when I saw the leading Indians pass 

 the head of the herd, and begin to turn the buffalo. This 

 was the first object of the chase, for in a stampede the 

 cows and young are always in the lead, the bulls bringing 

 up the rear. This position is not taken from chivalric 

 motives on the part of the males, but simply because 

 they cannot run so fast as then- wives and children. 

 Bulls are never killed when cows and heifers can be 

 had. 



Back came the herd, and I soon found myself in the 

 midst of a throng of buffalo, horses and Indians. There 

 was no yelling nor shouting on the part of the men, but 

 their stern set faces, and the fierce gleam of their eyes, 

 told of the fires of excitement that were burning within 

 them. Three or four times my rifle spoke out, and to 

 some purpose; and one shot, placed too far back, drew on 

 me a quick, savage charge from a vicious young cow. 

 My pony, while a good cattle horse, was new at buffalo 

 running, and his deliberation in the matter of dodging 

 caused me an anxious second or two, as I saw the cow's 

 head sweep close to his flank. It was far more interest- 

 ing to watch the scene than to take part in it, and I soon 

 rode to a little knoll from which I could overlook the 

 whole plain. Many brown bodies lay stretched upon the 

 ground, and many more were dashing here and there, 

 closely attended by reluctant pursuers. It was sad to see 

 so much death, but the people must have food, and none 

 of this meat would be wasted. 



Before I turned my horse's head toward the camp, 

 the broad disc of the setting sun had rested on the 

 tops of the western bluffs, and tipped their crests with 

 fire. His horizontal beams lit up with a. picturesque red- 

 ness the dusky forms which moved about over the valley. 

 Up the ravines and over the hills were stringing long 

 lines of squaws, leading patient ponies, whose backs were 

 piled high with dark, dripping meat, and with soft, 

 shaggy skins. Late into the night the work continued 

 and the loads kept coming into the camp. About the 

 flickering fires in and before the lodges there was feast- 

 ing an merriment. Marrow bones were tossed among the 

 red embers, calf's head was baked in the hot earth, fat 

 ka'-icis boiled, and boudins eaten raw. With laughter 

 and singing and story telling and dance the night wore 

 away. 



Over the plain where the buffalo had fallen, the gray 

 wolf was prowling, and, with the coyote, the fox and the 

 badger, tore at the bones of the slain. When day came, 



the side of the animal which was to serve him in the the golden eagle and the buzzard perched upon the naked 

 charge red skeletons, and took their toll. And far away to the 



As we proceeded, the pace became gradually a little southward, a few frightened buffalo, some of which had 

 more rapid. The horses went along easily and without arrows sticking in their sore sides, were cropping the 

 effort. Each naked Indian seemed a part of big steed, 1 short grass of the prairie. 



