S10 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 18, 1804. 
LITTLE PLUME'S DREAM. 
One spring the Blackf eet were camped on the Judith 
River, which in their language is named the Yellow Stream. 
Game was getting rather scarce in the vicinity of camp, 
so it was determined to move camp to Armell's Creek, 
another tributary of the Missouri, some thirty miles east. 
At that time I was living with Little Plume, a young war- 
rior of thirty years or more, very brave and a great 
hunter. He was of a cheerful disposition, always laugh- 
ing and joking; but the morning we were to move camp 
he seemed to be unusually quiet. He got up and had his 
customary plunge in the river, and ate his breakfast, 
speaking veiy little, and seemed to be in deep thought. 
After a time he got out his war sack, and selecting a 
bunch of choice eagle's tail feathers — very highly prized 
by the Blackf eet for decorative purposes — he went out and 
gave them to the sun; that is, he made a prayer to the sun 
for health and safety, and concluded by tying the bunch 
of feathers to the branch of a tree as an offering to the 
powerful god. Soon the lodges were taken down, every- 
thing was packed up and loaded on to the horses, and the 
march began. In those days a tribe of Indians on the 
march presented a stirring scene. Most of the riding 
horses were decked with fancy beadwork and bright sad- 
dle trappings; the pack horses carried queer-shaped sacks 
and pouches of rawhide, which were painted with quaint 
designs in bright colors. The horses which carried the 
property of the medicine men, sacred and mysterious 
bundles, were always white, and their manes and tails 
were painted with vermillion. The medicine pouches, 
made of white rawhide, were beautifully painted, and 
the long fringes of buckskin depending from them nearly 
swept the ground. The costumes of the people added not 
a? little to the brightness of the scene. The older people 
• often wore a buffalo robe or sombre-colored blanket, but 
the young and middle-aged men and women wore fancy- 
colored blankets of every conceivable hue; and as they 
trooped along laughing and chattering, their long hair 
flying in the breeze, they were an interesting sight. At 
the head of the column rode the chiefs and head men, 
followed by the women and children; behind them and 
on the flanks rode the great body of the warriors driving 
the loose horses before them, and of these there were 
many hundred. 
As we rode along this bright spring morning, LHtle 
Plume informed us that he had had a very bad dream. 
He said that a little old white man came to him and cried 
out "Beware! You will be in great danger to-morrow." 
"How?" asked Little Plume. 
"I may not tell you' " replied the white man. "All I 
can say is, have courage, do your best and you may come 
out all right." 
I had never argued with these people about their 
beliefs. In fact, to get at their inner life, to learn their 
inmost thoughts and ways, I pretended to be a true 
disciple of their religion. I made them think that I too, 
was a sun worshiper and a believer in dreams and signs. 
Often I would recount to the old men some dream I pre- 
tended to have bad, and ask their opinion as to its 
portent. So when Little Plume recounted his dream to 
me, I said: "My friend, this is truly a fearful dream. 
How did the little old white man look?" 
"He was very small and thin," he replied, "and his 
face was very smooth and white." 
"Well," said I, "if I were you I would be very careful 
to-day. Stay close to camp, also don't ride any wild 
horse or fool with your gun. You can't tell what danger 
your dream has warned you of. There are more ways of 
being killed than by the enemy. Your horse might fall 
and crush you; your gun might go off accidentally; a 
rattlesnake might bite you. Oh, yes, you must be very 
careful." 
"I am not, I never have been," replied Little Plume, "a 
coward, you know my record in war; it speaks for 
itself. But I hate these warning dreams. You are told 
that something is to happen to you, but do not know 
what it is; and that makes the heart uneasy. You can 
not eat or talk of anything. Always you are on the watch 
and fear you know not what." 
About 2 o'clock we reached some pine buttes, and 
while the camp halted to rest a little, Three Suns, the 
head chief, Little Plume and I rode up to the top of one 
of the buttes to take a survey of the surrounding country. 
Only a few miles distant was the valley of Armell's 
Creek, very broad and level and bordered by high hills 
and bluffs. Here and there along the stream were small 
groves of cottonwood and poplar, and on the hills grew 
scattering pines. But what interested us most was the 
game. 1 got out my glass, a powerful telescope, and by 
its aid I could see countless herds of buffalo and antelope. 
Some few of these were between us and the creek, but the 
main body of them were on the plains west of it. For at 
least thirty' miles, as far as the eye could reach, the 
prairie was fairly covered with buffalo. 
"This is a rich country," I remarked, as I handed the 
glass to Little Plume. "We will soon be feasting on boss 
ribs." 
"I'm glad of that," said Three Suns, "I'm tired of elk 
and deer meat," and he went on to speak of the buffalo, 
saying that they really were the life of the Indian, that 
they were the food, shelter and raiment of the people. 
Little Plume, who in the meantime had been sweeping 
the country with the glass, here exclaimed that there 
seemed to be a commotion among the game far down the 
valley. Some buffalo and antelope had been frightened 
and were running toward us. 
"Well," said Three Suns," that is nothing strange. You 
know Running Rabbit's camp (another Blackfoot chief) is 
between us and the big river (Missouri), and very likely 
they are camped somewhere about here." 
"No," replied Little Plume, "I don't think it was they 
who frightened the game, for they would be on horse- 
back and we would see them. I feel quite certain that 
some war party on foot is sneaking along up the creek 
and that they are what scared the game." 
"You may be right," said Three Suns, "and it's best to 
look out. We will herd the horses in for a night or two 
and keep a strong guard on the watch. Now, then, we 
ought to be going. I think we shall camp pretty well up 
on the stream in order not to disturb the game until we 
are ready to make a big killing. Let us make to the left 
of that sharp butte over there (pointing to one southeast 
of us) and keep straight in that direction until we strike 
the creek." 
So we mounted our horses and descended, and shortly 
the march was resumed. In an hour or two we reached 
the creek and our lodges were pitched on a level bit of 
prairie handy to wood and water. One of Little Plume's 
wives (he had five) caught a young antelope which had 
evidently been born that day and brought it up to us, say- 
ing, "See what a beautiful little pet I have found." 
"I am just hungry for some young antelope boiled," 
said her brother, who was standing near by, and seizing 
it, he drew his knife and with one slash ripped it open 
and threw it upon the ground. The poor thing lay there 
gasping, and we could see its heart still beating but grow- 
ing fainter and fainter. It was a brutal act, and I felt 
like giving the young scamp a good thrashing, but held 
my peace. The woman roundly berated him, and from 
the way Little Plume looked I thought he, too, was dis- 
pleased. 
After a hearty meal and a good smoke, Little Plume 
saddled up a fresh horse, and sayiDg that he was going 
out on the hills to take a look at the country, rode away. 
I was tempted to go with him but the day had been a 
very warm one, and I hardly felt like exercising any 
more, so I stayed in the lodge and smoked and read (I 
had quite a bundle of books with me) until it was too 
dark to see the print. When it was quite dark and Little 
Plume did not appear, we began to grow quite uneasy 
about him and after a while the women began to cry 
and scream that he was killed. I tried to quiet them by 
saying that he might have found Running Rabbit's camp 
and concluded to stop there for the night. But' it was of 
no use. So to get away from the doleful noise they made 
I went outside. Suddenly I thought I heard a call far 
out on the prairie, and listening intently I heard it again 
but could not make out what was said. A young man 
who was standing by heard it too and ran out in that 
direction. He soon returned, out of breath and so 
excited we couldn't understand what he said except 
"Little Plume— almost dead — take him horse." Immedi- 
ately there was the greatest excitement in camp. Little 
Plume's wives and female relatives began to mourn, and 
cry; men came from all directions with drawn weapons, 
crying out for revenge, and the young man who had 
found Little Plume leading the way, we all went out. 
When we got up to him we were agreeably surprised to 
hear him say, though in a very weak voice: "I'm not 
going to die yet. Put me on a horse and I can ride to 
camp. I've killed one Sioux." At this there was a wild 
howl of joy and all began to shout out his name, and 
those in the camp hearing it, joined in, all crying out in 
their loudest voice "Little Plume wa! hail Little Plume 
wa! hail" Meaning, the victor. It is the proudest 
moment of a Blackfoot's life when he thus hears himself 
extolled by the people. 
It did not take us long to get him to camp and in his 
lodge, and stripping off his leggings we found that he 
had been shot in both legs; through the calf of one and 
thigh of the other. No bones were broken, but the mus- 
cles were badly lacerated and there had been considerable 
loss of blood. 1 washed the wound9 and dressed them 
with such simple remedies as I had, and after a light 
meal, our hero was fairly comfortable. Late that night 
after everything had quieted down, he told me the story 
of his adventures. 
"You remember," he said, "that my dream warned me 
I would be in danger to-day. He spoke truly; I have 
had a very close call. All day I have felt uneasy, and the 
signs have been bad. When my brother-in-law ripped 
open the young antelope and we could see its heart beat- 
ing, I felt sure that something was going to happen. 
Then when I rode away from camp I had gone only a 
very short distance when the ravens began to circle close 
to me, and that was still another bad sign, I ought not 
to have gone out, but I thought I would only go a little 
way, just to see how the game was, and lay out a place 
for the big hunt to-morrow. I went down the valley 
quite a little piece, and then started to ride to the top of 
the bluffs so that I could get a good look at the surround- 
ing country. I was riding quartering up the ridge which 
is broken by deep coulees, when I saw four buffalo bulls 
coming toward me up the hill. No other game was close 
to me, so I drew my horse back out of sight, got off, and 
crawling to the edge of the coulee, watched for them to 
come within range. When they were so close I could 
see their eyes I fired at what I thought was the fattest one, 
and over he went. The rest ran off. All this time I felt 
very uneasy. I kept looking up at the top of the hill, 
then down below. My heart felt heavy, yet I could see 
nothing to be afraid of. I left my horse and went down 
and began to cut up the bull. The ravens came all around 
me, flying close to my head, and calling out, and some lit 
on the ground so close I could see their eyes. I took out 
the tongue and then skinned down one side and took out 
the entrails. Then I got so uneasy I couldn't stand it 
any longer, and, leaving the tongue and all, I went back 
to my horse, and had put my foot in the stirrup to get on 
and ride home, when the thought struck me that I was a 
foolish coward. I thought of all that fat meat lying 
there which my children would be so glad " to have, and I 
went back and began to cut off and tie in shape to pack 
some of the best parts. As I was working away I got 
very uneasy again, and would often stop and look all 
around. And I thought I saw something appear for an 
instant on the edge of the hill above me, but concluded 
it must have been a raven just flying out of sight, I 
stooped over to tie some meat, and when I rose up again 
I saw five Indians where I thought I had seen the raven, 
and just as I saw them they fired at me. I ran for my 
horse, and just as I reached him he fell over dead. They 
had killed him so as to give me no chance to escape. My 
heart failed me when I saw this, but I ran to a coulee 
which partly concealed me, and fired three shots at the 
enemy who were rushing down the hill. That stopped 
them, and they went out of sight in a coulee. Soon I 
could see them crawling and sneaking above and below 
me, and saw they were trying to surround me, so I jumped 
up, and yelling as loud as I could I ran straight back toward 
camp. One of the enemy was right ahead of me, and he 
rose up and fired, but didn't hit me. I stopped and fired, 
and he threw up his hands, dropped his gun and fell over. 
I had more courage when I saw this, and felt strong. I 
ran on as fast as I could, and the enemy followed, shoot- 
ing pretty often. Every little coulee I came to, I would 
crouch down and fire a shot at them , which would make 
them drop down. Then I would run on again. We kept 
up a running fight this way for quite a while, when a 
shot struck me in the calf of the leg. It didn't hurt 
much at first, but I could feel the blood running down 
into my moccasin. The next coulee I came to I fired 
twice at them, tore off a piece of my shirt and ran on. 
At the next coulee, after firing at them, I tied up the 
wound as well as I could, and ran on again. They didn't 
seem to want to catch up with me, but kept a good long 
rifle shot behind. I suppose they thought by keeping a 
long way off and shooting pretty often, they would get 
me after a while without much risk to themselves, but as 
I ran I kept dodging this way and that, and gave them a 
pretty difficult mark. I was getting pretty well toward 
camp and was running up a hill, when a shot struck me 
in the thigh, and over I went. I thought then my time 
had come, but I managed to roll into a little washout. 
Then I sat up, and fired twice at them. They had started 
to run toward me, but that stopped them, and they went 
'way back and started to climb to the top of the hill. I 
knew if they should get up there that they would surely 
kill me, for they would be in easy range and could see me 
plainly from there. I prayed then. I didn't quite give 
up. I called on my dream white man for help. I had 
only three cartridges left, and thought I would save them 
for the last round. As I was looking up over the edge of 
the coulee I saw them stop climbing. Soon one of them 
made a sign to me and motioned me to go home, and that 
they would go to their home. I didn't answer at all. I 
just took aim and fired once at them. They turned and 
ran back the way they had come. I am not sure what 
made them do this, but tbink when they were getting 
near the top of the hill they either saw our camp or some 
of the people riding about, and thought they would be 
safer to get back toward the Missouri. As soon as I saw 
them going I fixed up both of my wounds as good as I 
could, and using my gun for a crutch hobbled toward 
camp. I thought I never would get here. Toward the 
last I had to crawl a little way at a time, and when you 
heard me call I was so weak I could have gone no 
further." 
"Well, my friend," said I, "your dream gave you a 
true warning, didn't it?" 
"Yes," he replied, "it did. What powerful medicine 
that little old white man is. I wonder what kind of a 
white man he really is!" 
The next day a large party scoured the country in 
search of the war party (supposed to have been Sioux), 
with whom Little Plume had the battle, but could not find 
them. Where he shot one of them they found where he 
had fallen. The grass was covered with blood and all 
tramped down. Undoubtedly his comrades on their 
retreat had taken him away and buried him, or perhaps 
sunk the body in one of the deep holes of the creek. 
J. W. Schultz. 
A RIDE AFTER COWBOYS. 
The climate of Texas is salubrious and wonderful, and 
its soil in some localities very productive. Among other 
products may be numbered its queer characters which 
are indigenous. They run the gamut of human nature to 
extremes — from the most kind and even-tempered to the 
most vicious. 
Not the least interesting study of this varied population 
is the cowboy, or what was the cowboy of years ago. for 
the modern type bears little resemblance to the ancient. 
Now he is nothing but a laborer hired by the large ranch- 
men or pasture owners, to perform the hard and tedious 
duties of a ranch, with all of the sometime romance of the 
life wiped out of him. 
A party of these cowboys retiring to their homes in west 
Texas, once, passed through the little town of Richmond 
on the Brazos River, which had to be crossed by a ferry 
at that time. They had been to Louisiana with a herd of 
beeves and were returning home flush with money and 
full of whisky. Their route before reaching the river and 
ferry lay through the rich bottom lands thickly settled 
with farms along the main road. In passing along they 
amused themselves shooting at objects that presented 
themselves, and were not very particular as to what the 
object was. If a dog in a yard should bark at them they 
marked him for their prey and the six-shooter sounded 
his requiem. Even the poor old ganders were treated to 
a like fate for hissing at them (or so the messenger said 
who came in ahead to inform on them). The railroad 
train passed Walker's Station juat after this crowd had 
- been amusing themselves. The indignant citizens put a 
man on the train and sent him to town to inform the 
authorities of what had transpired. 
While the informant was making his complaint and the 
magistrate issuing the papers for their arrest, the offend- 
ers crossed the river and passed through the edge of the 
town without halting. The papers were soon ready and 
were handed to the sheriff, who went in pursuit; and 
overtaking them on the outskirts of the town informed 
them of his mission, which was to arrest and take them 
before a magistrate. One of the party asked the officer to 
produce his warrant, and when he did so wanted to look at 
it. The sheriff handed him the paper, when he very coolly 
tore it up and told the sheriff they had no idea of going 
back to contribute anything for the support of the county 
officers. They were four to one and the sheriff was 
powerless, so he rode back to summon a posse to assist 
nim in arresting them. 
Quite a crowd were assembled around the court house 
when the officer returned, ready to joke him on his dis- 
comfiture, but when he called for assistance all were will- 
ing to lend a hand and join in the fun of bringing them 
back. Everybody who could procure a horse was soon 
getting ready. 
County Court was in session at the time, with the judge 
on the bench and a prisoner on trial; but the court ad- 
journed on account of the excitement. Among others 
who were eager to go was the culprit being tried for some 
misdemeanor, a young man of twenty, who was one of 
the boys around town. Seeing so many getting ready he 
couldn't stand it, but appealing to the court, said, "Judge, 
please let me go." The Judge looked stern and replied, 
"Mr. Blank, you are a prisoner, air." "Judge, if you'll 
only let me go I'll come right back and stand my trial." 
The Judge relaxed his discipline and let him go. After 
all, judges are human. 
It took three-quarters of an hour to get horses and guns 
ready, and at that time we rode out of town eleven 
strong. The time consumed in preparation gave the f ugi- 
gives a good start and advantage, and when we cleared 
the town and the trees surrounding it they were nowhere 
in sight. We knew the course they would take, however, 
and kept on at a long gallop in that direction. When 
