Dec. 3, 1910.J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
891 
the excellence of dog meat, while Garrard de¬ 
clared that it must be horrible, saying that buf¬ 
falo meat was unquestionably the most delicate 
food in this or any other country. Smith agreed 
that buffalo was the best, but that dog meat was 
the next, and offered to bet that he would -make 
Garrard eat dog meat in the village, and make 
him declare that it was good. How John Smith 
carried out his threat is told in the following 
paragraphs: 
“One evening w r e were in our places. I was 
lying on a pile of outspread robes, watching the 
blaze as it illumined the lodge, which gave the 
yellow hue of the skins of which it was made 
a still brighter tinge, and follow'ing with my 
eye the thin blue smoke coursing in fantastic 
shapes through the opening at the top of the 
cone, my thoughts carrying me momentarily 
everywhere, now home, now enjoying some 
choice edible; or, seated by a pleasant friend, 
conversing; in short, my mind, like the harp in 
Alexander’s feast, the chords of which, touched 
by the magic hand of memory, or flight of fancy, 
alternately depressed or elevated me in feeling. 
Greenwood and Smith, sitting up, held in ‘dur¬ 
ance vile’ the ever present pipe. Their unusual 
laughter attracted my attention, but not divin¬ 
ing the cause I joined in the conversation. It 
was now quite late, and feeling hungry I asked 
what was on the fire. 
“ ‘Terrapins,’ promptly replied Smith. 
“ ‘Terrapins!’ echoed I in surprise at the name. 
‘Terrapins! How do you cook them?’ 
“‘You know them hard-shell land terrapin?’ 
“ ‘Yes.’ 
“ ‘Well, the squaws go out to the sand buttes 
and bring the critters in and cook ’em in the 
shell alive—those stewin’ thar ar cleaned first. 
Howsomever, they're darned good !’ 
“‘Yes, hos, an’ that’s a fact, wagh,’ chimed in 
Greenwood. 
“I listened of course with much interest to 
their account of the savage dish and waited with 
impatience for a taste of that, the recital of 
whose merits sharpened my already keen appe¬ 
tite. When the squaw transferred the contents 
of the kettle to a wooden bowl and passed it on 
to us, our butcher knives were in immediate 
requisition. Taking a piece with hungry avidity 
which Smith handed me without thought as to 
what part of the terrapin it was, I ate it with 
much gusto, calling for more. It was extremely 
good, and I spoke of the delicacy of the meat, 
and answered all their questions as to its excel¬ 
lency in the affirmative, even to the extent of a 
panegyric on the whole turtle species. After 
fully committing myself, Smith looked at me a 
while in silence, the corners of his mouth grad¬ 
ually making preparations for a laugh, and 
asked: 
“‘Well, hos, how do you like dog meat?’ and 
then such hearty guffaws were never heard. The 
stupefaction into which I was thrown by the re¬ 
volting announcement only increased their merri¬ 
ment, which soon was resolved into yells of de¬ 
light at my discomfiture. 
“A revulsion of opinion, and dog meat, too, 
ensued, for I could feel the ‘pup’ crawling up 
my throat, but saying to myself ‘that it was good 
under the name of terrapin,’ ‘that a rose under 
any other name would smell as sweet,’ and that 
it would be prejudice to stop I broke the shackles 
of deep-rooted antipathy to the canine breed, 
and putting a choice morceau on top of that 
already swallowed, ever after remained a stanch 
defender and admirer of dog meat. The con¬ 
versation held with Smith the second day of our 
acquaintance was brought to mind, and I ac¬ 
knowledged that dog was next in order to buf¬ 
falo.” 
Life in the Cheyenne camp went on interest¬ 
ingly. Garrard began to make a vocabulary of 
the Cheyenne language, and soon'to speak it in 
a broken fashion which caused his auditors to 
shriek with laughter. He watched them at the 
sign language, amused them with games and the 
few books which he possessed, went to feasts, 
noted the odd implements and ways of his camp 
mates, and set down all that happened, together 
with his boyish reflections on the incidents. 
The discipline practiced by John Smith on his 
son Jack will bear repeating. It seems that the 
child had taken to crying one night, much to the 
annoyance of four or five chiefs, who had come 
to the lodge to talk and smoke. “In vain did the 
mother shake and scold him with the severest 
Cheyenne words, until Smith, provoked beyond 
endurance, took the squalling youngster in hands. 
He shu-ed and shouted and swore, but Jack had 
gone too far to be easily pacified. He then sent 
for a bucket of water from the river and poured 
cupful after cupful on Jack, who stamped and 
screamed and bit in his puny rage. Notwith¬ 
standing, the icy stream slowly descended until 
the bucket was emptied, another was sent for, 
and again and again the cup was replenished and 
emptied on the blubbering youth. At last, ex¬ 
hausted with exertion, and completely cooled 
down, he received the remaining water in silence, 
and with a few words of admonition was de¬ 
livered over to his mother, in whose arms he 
stifled his sobs, until his heart-breaking grief and 
cares were drowned in sleep. What a devilish 
mixture Indian and American blood is!” 
Garrard was a healthy, natural boy, and with 
all a boy’s love of fun. He mingled readily and 
naturally in the sports and amusements of the 
young people of the Cheyenne camp and heartily 
enjoyed it. In those days the white trader in 
the Indian camp was regarded as a great man, 
and was treated with respect, to retain which 
he carried himself with much dignity. But Gar¬ 
rard cared nothing for this respect, and made 
no effort to preserve this dignity. He danced 
and sang with the boys and. girls, and the women 
were astonished to find a white person so care¬ 
less of appearances, though they liked him all 
the better for it. 
On one occasion in the winter there was much 
excitement in the Cheyenne camp. A war party 
was returning, and all the men, women and chil¬ 
dren blackened their faces and went out to meet 
them. The returning warnors advanced in tri¬ 
umph, for they had three scalps, borne on slender 
willow wands, and hanging from each scalp was 
a single tuft of hair, which told that they were 
Pawnees. Now there was great rejoicing in the 
camp, and many dances to celebrate the victory, 
and to rejoice over the triumph that the tribe 
had made over its enemies. “The drum at night 
sent forth its monotony of hollow sound, and 
our Mexican, Pedro, and I, directed by the 
booming, entered a lodge, vacated for the pur¬ 
pose, full of young men and squaws, following 
one another in a continuous circle, keeping the 
left knee stiff, and bending the right with a half¬ 
forward, half-negative step, as if they wanted to 
go on and could not, accompanying it every time 
the right foot was raised with an energetic broken 
song which, dying away, was again and again 
sounded—hay-a-hay, hay-a-hay, they went—lay¬ 
ing the emphasis on the first syllable. A drum, 
similar to though larger than a tambourine, cov¬ 
ered with parfleche, was beat upon with a stick, 
producing with the voices a sound not altogether 
disagreeable. * * * 
“During the day the young men, except the 
dancers, piled up dry logs in a level open space 
near for a grand demonstration. At night, when 
it was fired, I folded my blanket over my shoul¬ 
ders, comme les sauvages, and went out. The 
faces of many girls were brilliant with Vermil¬ 
lion ; others were blacked, their robes, leggins and 
skin dresses glittering with beads and porcupine 
quill Work. Rings and bracelets of shining brass 
encircled their taper arms and fingers, and shells 
dangled from their ears. Indeed, all the finery 
collectable was piled on in barbarous profusion, 
though a few, in good taste or through poverty, 
wore a single band and but few rings, and with 
jetty hair parted in the middle from the fore¬ 
head to the neck, terminating in two handsome 
braids. * * * 
“The girls, numbering 200, fell into line to¬ 
gether, and the men, of whom there were 250, 
joining, a circle was formed, which ‘traveled’ 
around with the same shuffling step already de¬ 
scribed. The drummers and other musicians 
(twenty or twenty-five of them) marched in a 
contrary direction to and from and around the 
fire inside the large ring, for at the distance 
kept by the outsiders the area was 150 feet in 
diameter. There Appolonian emulators chanted 
the great deeds performed by the Cheyenne war¬ 
riors. As they ended, the dying strain was 
caught up by the hundreds of the outside circle 
who, in fast-swelling loud tones, poured out the 
burden of their song. At this juncture the 
march was quickened, the scalps of the slain 
were borne aloft and shaken in wild delight, and 
shrill war notes, rising above the furious din, 
accelerated the pulsation and strung high the 
nerves. Time-worn shields, careering in mad 
holders’ hands, clashed, and keen lances, once 
reeking in Pawnee blood, clanged. Braves seized 
one another with an iron grip in the heat of ex¬ 
citement, or chimed more tenderly in the chant, 
enveloped in the same robe with some gentle 
maiden as they approvingly stepped through one 
of their own original polkas. 
“Thirty of the chiefs and principal men were 
ranged by the pile of blazing logs. By their 
invitation I sat down near ‘Old Bark’ and 
smoked death and its concomitant train of evils 
to those audacious tribes, who doubt the courage 
or supremacy of the brave, the great and power¬ 
ful Cheyenne nation. 
“The pipe was lavishly decorated with beaver 
strips, beads and porcupine quills; the mixture 
of tobacco and bark was prepared with unusual 
care for this, their grand gala night.” 
It would be interesting to follow Garrard 
through his life in the Cheyenne camp, but space 
forbids this. He was called away from this in¬ 
teresting life by the news which came from the 
West of the death at the hands of the Pueblos of 
Governor Charles Bent, in New Mexico. Fugi¬ 
tives who had escaped the attack had come to 
Fort William and told what had happened, and 
soon after William Bent, with twenty-three men, 
started for the Mexican settlements. They 
passed far to the southward of Pike’s Peak, met 
