446 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 2, 1905. 
In the Lodges of the Blackfeet. 
n. — The Ruse of a Savage Lover. 
It was agreed that I should join Berry in the autumn, 
when he would begin the season’s trade with the Indians. 
He owned a large bull train, with which he hauled 
freight from Fort Benton to the mining camps in sum- 
mer, finding in that much more profit than in trading for 
the deer, elk and antelope skins, which were about the 
only things of value that the Indians had to barter at 
that season. Buffalo robes were valuable only from ani- 
mals killed from November to February inclusive. I did 
not wish to remain in Fort Benton ; I wanted to hunt and 
travel about in this land of glorious sunshine and dry, 
clear air; so I bought a roll of bedding, large quantities 
of tobaccO', and .44 rim-fire cartridges for my Henry 
rifle, a trained buffalo horse and saddle, and pulled out 
of the town with Sorrel Horse and his outfit. Perhaps 
if I had gone to the mines instead I would have done 
better in. a financial way. More steamboats had arrived, 
the place was full of people bound for the gold fields, 
and there were many just from there with heavy sacks 
of gold dust in their battered grips and greasy bags. 
1 hey had made their stake, they were bound for the 
States; for ‘‘God’s country,” they said. God’s country! 
If there was a more beautiful land than that of the great 
sunlit plains and mountains, grand and soul-inspiring 
in their immensity, I never saw it. And I’m glad I did 
not get the mining fever, for then I would probably 
never have learned to know them intimately. There are 
some things of far more value than gold. For instance, 
a life free from cares or duties of any kind; a life in 
which every day and every hour brings its share of 
pleasure and satisfaction, of excitement, of happily 
earned and well enjoyed fatigue. Had I, too, gone to 
the placer fields I might have made a fortune, and re- 
turned to the States, and settled down in some deadly 
monotonous village, where the most exciting things that 
ever happened was church festivals and funerals! 
Sorrel Horse’s wagons, a lead and a trail, drawn by an 
eight-horse team, were heavily loaded with provisions 
and trade goods, for he was going with a band of the 
Piegans, the Small Robes, on their summer hunt. And 
this was what had made me at once accept his invitation 
to accompany him ; I would have an opportunity to .study 
the people. Much has been written in these columns 
about the Piegan Blackfeet, and those who have not read 
the various articles and are interested in the subject 
should read Mr. Grinnell’s books, “Blackfoot Lodge 
Tales” and “The Story of the Indian.” I must neces- 
sarily confine myself in these articles to a few- incidents 
in my long life on the plains which seem to me worth 
relating. 
Sorrel Horse’s brother-in-law, L-is’-sis-tsi, Wolverine, 
and I became great friends..! soon learned to use the sign 
language, and he helped me in my studies of the Black- 
foot language, so- difficult that few white men ever did 
become proficient in it. I may say that by diligently 
committing my studies , of it to writing and by paying- 
especial attention to pronunciation and accent, I learned 
to speak it as well as any white man ever did, with per- 
haps one or two exceptions. 
How I enjoyed that summer, part of which we passed 
at the foot of the Belt Mountains and part on Warm 
Spring Creek and the Judith River. I joined in the fre- 
quent buffalo runs, and on my swift and well trained 
horse managed to kill my share of the great animals. I 
hunted antelope, elk, deer, bighorn and bear with Wol- 
verine. I would sit for hours on a mountain slope or 
the summit of some lone butte, and watch the herds and 
bands of game about me, gaze at the grand mountains 
and the vast and silent plain, and pinch myself to realize 
that I was really I, and that it was all real and not a 
dream. Wolverine apparently never tired of all this any 
more than I ; he would sit by my side, a dreamy look in 
his eyes as he gazed about him, and frequently exclaim 
i-tam ap-i, which is the word for happiness or perfect 
content. 
Yet, Wolverine was not always happy; there were 
days when he went about with a long face and a preoc- 
cupied ail, never speaking except to answer some ques- 
tion. One day in August when he rvas in this mood I 
.asked -w'hat was troubling him. 
Tp.h.hj.ing me,” he replied. Then, 
after a long silence : “I lied, I am in great trouble. I 
love Piks-ah'-ki and she loves me, but I cannot have her ; 
her father will not give her to me.” 
Another long silence: “Yes, well?” I urged, since he 
had forgotten or did not feel inclined to enlighten me 
further. 
“Yes,” he went on, “her father is a Gros Ventre, but 
her mother is Piegan. Long ago my people protected 
the Gros Ventres, fought their battles, helped them to 
hold their country against all enemies. And then the 
two- tribes quarreled, and for many years were at war 
with each other. This last wdnter they made peace. It 
was then I first saw. Piks-ah'-ki. She is very beautiful ; 
tall, long hair, eyes like an antelope, small hands and 
feet. I went much to her father’s lodge, and we would 
look at each other -wdien the others there were not notic- 
ing. One night I was standing by the doorway of the 
lodge when she came out for an armful of ' wood from 
the big pile lying there. I took hold of her and kissed 
her, and she put her arms around my neck and kissed 
me back. That is how I know she loves me. Do you 
think” — anxiously- — “that she would have done that if 
she did not love me?” 
“No, I do not think she would.” 
His face brightened and he continued: “At that time 
1 had only twelve horses, but I sent them to her father 
with a message that I would marry his daughter. He 
sent the horses back and these words : ‘My daughter 
shall not marry a poor man !’ 
“I went with a war party against the Crows and drove 
home myself eight head of their best horses. I traded 
for others until I had thirty-two in all. Not long ago I 
sent a friend with them to the Gros Ventre camp to- ask 
once more for this girl I love ; he soon returned, driving 
back the horses and this is what her father said : ‘My 
daughter shall never marry Wolverine, for the Piegans 
killed my son and my brother.’ ” 
I had no comment to make. He looked at me hesitat- 
ingly two or three times and finally said : “The Gros 
A/'entres are encamped on the Missouri, at the mouth of 
this little (Judith) river. I am going to steal the girl 
from her people; will you go with me?” 
“Yes,” I quickly replied. “I’ll go with you, but why 
me? Why don’t you ask some of the Raven Carriers to 
go with you, as you belong to that society?” 
“Because,” he replied, laughing a little constrainedly, 
‘‘because I might fail to get the girl; she might even re- 
fuse to go with me, and then my good friends would tell 
about it, and people would always be joking me. But 
you, if I fail, I know you will never tell about it.” 
One evening about dusk we quietly left the camp. No 
•one except Sorrel Horse — not even his wife^ — knew of 
our departure. Naturally, she would be alarmed about 
her brother’s absence, and he was to tell her that the 
youth had gone in to Fort Benton with me for a day or 
two-. But how genial old Sorrel Horse did laugh when 
I told him -where we were going and for what purpose. 
“Haw, haw, haw ! That’s pretty good ! A pilgrim, 
only three months in the country and going to help an 
Indian steal a girl !” 
“When does one cease to be a pilgrim?” I asked. 
“When he has learned all about things and ceases to 
ask foo -1 questions. I should say, in your case, that peo- 
ple will quit calling you ‘pilgrim’ in about five years. It 
takes most of ’em about fifteen to become acclimated, as 
you may say. But joking aside, young man, this is a 
pretty serious thing you are going in for; don’t get into 
any trouble; always keep close to your horse and re- 
member that it is better to run than to fight; you can 
live longer by doing so as a general rule.” 
We left the camp at dusk, for in those days it was not 
safe for a couple of men to ride over the great plains in 
the daytime, too many war parties of various' tribes were 
abroad, seeking glory and wealth in the scalps and chat- 
tels of unwary travelers. We rode out of the Judith 
valley eastward on to- the plain, and when we were far 
enough out to avoid the deep coulies running into it, 
turned and paralleled the course of the river. Wolverine 
led a lively but gentle pinto pony on which we had 
packed in a manner some bedding, and a large bundle of 
Ins done up in a fine buffalo- robe and bound with many 
a thong. These things he had taken out of camp the 
night before and hidden in the brush. There was a 
glorious full moon, and we were able to trot and lope 
along at a good pace. We had not traveled many miles 
from camp before we began to hear the bellowing of the 
buffalo ; it was their mating season and the bulls kept 
up a continuous deep, monotoned bellow or roar as they 
charged and fought about from band to band of the 
great herds. Several times during the night we rode 
close to a band and startled them, and they ran off thun- 
dering over the hard ground and rattling their hoofs, 
away, away in the soft moonlight; we could hear them 
still running long after they had disappeared from view. 
It seemed as if all the wolves in the country were abroad 
that night, for they could be heard in all directions, 
near and far, mournfully howling. What a sad, solemn 
cry theirs was; so different from the falsetto-, impish 
yelping of the coyotes. 
On, on Wolverine went, urging his horse and never 
looking back, and I kept close up and said nothing, al- 
though I thought the pace too fast on a plain honey- 
combed with badger and prairie dog holes. When at 
last day began to- break we found ourselves in the coun- 
try of high pine clad buttes and ridges, and two or three 
miles from the Judith valley. Wolverine stopped and 
looked all around, trying to pierce the distance still 
shrouded in the dusk of early morning. 
“So far as I can see,” he said, “everything looks well. 
Ihe buffalo and the prairie runners (antelope) feed 
quietly. But that is not a sure sign that an enemy is not 
near; even now some of them may be sitting in the pines 
of those buttes looking down upon us. Let us hurry to 
the river — we must have water — and hide in the timber 
in the valley.” 
We unsaddled in a grove of cottonw'oods and willows 
and led our horses to water. On a wet sand bar where 
we came to the stream there were a number of human 
footprints so recently made that they seemed to be as 
fresh as our own tracks. The sight startled us and we 
looked about anxiously, holding our rifles in readiness 
for a quick aim. There was no- Jimber on the opposite 
side of the stream at that point, and we had just come 
through the grove above us, so we realized that the 
makers of the tracks were not in our immediate vicinity. 
“Crees or men from across the mountains,” said Wol- 
verine, again examining the tracks. “No matter which; 
they are all our enemies. We must be careful and keep 
a good watch, as they may be nearby.” 
We drank our fill and went back into the grove, tying 
our horses so that they could eat a little of the grass 
and wild pea growing luxiantly between the trees. 
‘‘How could you know,” I asked, “that those whose 
tracks we saw are not Crows, or Sioux, or other people 
of the plains?” 
“Y’ou noticed,” Wolverine replied, “that the footprints 
were wide, rounding, that even the prints of their toes 
could be seen ; that was because they wore soft bottom 
moccasins, the sole, as well as the upper part, of tanned 
deer or buffalo skin. Only those people use such foot- 
wear; all those of the plains here wearing moccasins 
with hard parfleche soles.” 
I had been very hungry until I saw the footprints in 
the sand, after that I was too busy watching, listening 
for a possible enemy to think of anything else ; and I 
fervently wished that I had remained in camp and left 
the young Indian to- do hi§ own girl stealing. 
“I will go around the inner edge of the grove and 
have a look at the country and then we will eat,” said 
W olverine. 
I wondered what we would eat, well knowing that we 
dared not kill anything, nor build a fire, even if we had 
meat. But I said nothing, and while he was gone I re- 
saddled my horse, remembering my friend’s advice to 
stay close to- it. Presently Wolverine returned. 
“The war party passed through the grove,” he said, 
“and went on down the valley. About two nights from 
now they will be trying to steal the Gros Ventre horses. 
Well, we will eat.” 
He undid the buffalo robe bundle and spread out a 
number of articles ; heavy red and blue cloth, enough for 
two dresses. The stuff was made in England and the 
traders sold it for about $10 a yard. Then there were 
strings of beads, brass rings, silk handkerchiefs, Chinese 
Vermillion, needles, thread, earrings — an assortment of 
things dear to the Indian women. 
“For her,” he said, laying them carefully aside and 
producing some eatables; dry stale bread, sugar, dried 
.meat and a string of dried apples. 
^ “I stole them from my sister,” he said. “I thought 
