132 
FOREST AND STREAM. 


PROPHECIES. 
haps 
A sunlit sky and a sunlit earth, 
Blue hills and a bluer river, 
Cool forest depths where the springs have birth, 
Green fields where the grasses quiver, 
A fair bright future without and within, 
Glad hope to my hearttis singing, 
For a golden thread do the Parce spin 
When they hear—a red-breast singing! 
A weeping sky and a mourning earth, 
Bleak hills and and a bleaker river, 
Dark forests wild where the storms have birth, 
Brown fields where the dead leaves shiver! 
A dim, gray future within and without, 
Dread fear to my heart is singing, 
For in the cold dawn when faith is a doubt 
I heard—a whip-poor. will singing! 
A blood-bought earth without blemish or spot, 
A crystal, life-throbbing river, 
Green pastures of rest where the frost cometh not, 
Joy endless, for God is the giver! 
A future unending, beyond and above, 
Sweet faith to my heart is bringing, 
For sunrise hath come with light and with love, 
And hark!—there’s a sky-lark singing! 
at Gunt with the Danktoy Sioux. 
UIMMER hunting with the Ute Indians in the parks of 
the Rocky Mountains having rendered distasteful the 
civilization of our fashionable resorts, and unfitted me for 
quiet comfort of the farmhouse, I packed my prairie cos- 
tume and sporting outfit and started for the West. 
Reports received at Denver of my hunting friends, the 
Utes, were not encouraging. I decided, therefore, to 
ascend the Missouri, and join the Yankton Sioux of 
Dakota. 
On reaching their reservation I communicated to Major 
Gasman, the efficient United States Agent, my wish to ac- 
company the Indians on their annual hunt, and through his 
influence was received as a guest of the tribe. 
On the 25th of July three hundred and twenty warriors, 
with their squaws and children, their lodges and worldly 
possessions, fifteen hundred ponies, and several hundred 
dogs, prepared to cross the Missouri. This was no easy 
task. The river was wide, the current rapid and filled with 
eddies, the sand-bars numerous, and the bottom shifting. 
As Isat on the bank watching the passage of this little 
army, I wished for some word artist to bring before the 
reader's eye the almost naked warriors, the busy chattering 
- squaws, the frightened children, the struggling ponies, and 
the yelping dogs. Frank Trumbo, a herder on the reserva- 
tion, and I, being the only white men of the party, were the 
last to leave. With a hearty ‘‘God speed” from the Major 
and his family we stepped into~a canoe, and holding our 
swimming ponies firmly by the ears were soon clambering 
up the western bank of the Missouri. 

The squaws were preparing the evening meal, and from 
the stew-pots suspended over the blazing fires came a savory 
odor. The warriors lay or sat-in groups, smoking and pass- 
ing the pipes, playing with their little ones, and telling 
stories. The half-grown boys wrestled good-naturedly with 
one another, and the young girls rolled and tumbled in the 
tall grass, as merry as children of a lighter hue. Ponies-of 
every size and color, and innumerable dogs in idle con- 
tentedness, stood around. 
We were soon on the best of terms with Leaping Thun- 
der, our host, a bold warrior whose record placed him high 
in the council of the tribe, and his pretty squaw, whose un- 
pronounceable name we changed to ‘‘Little Woman.” The 
table cloth (a buffalo skin with the hair next the ground) 
was spread, and an invitation extended to The Fat and Poor 
Bull, the chiefs in command, to sup with us. They came, 
and over stewed beans and coffee we vowed eternal friend- 
ship. Several warriors joined the circle, and until a late 
hour, the pipe passing from mouth to mouth, they told 
with animated gestures of their personal prowess in the 
chase, and their deadly skill on the war path. Aftcr the 
departure of our guests we turned our table cloth and rolled 
in for the night. The camp was filled with strange sounds; 
the medicine man drummed and sang a dismal chant; the 
young braves roamed among the lodges cawing to their 
lady loves; the dogs, fascinated by a single bark, joined in 
one united chorus. But in time all was still, and I was 
with the dear ones at home. By sunrise we were under 
way. irom the top of the bluffs a beautiful and animated 
scene presented itself. In three lines moved the pack and 
travaue animals, surrounded by squaws and children; far 
out upon the prairie rode curiously-painted warriors gather- 
ing in the scattered ponies; boys wild with excitement, and 
as untamed as the colts to which, like leeches, they clung 
without saddle or briddle, dashed hither and thither pursued 
by barking dogs; dams shrilly neighing ran up and down, 
and through the train, wholly unmindful of the fell anathe- 
mas hurled after them by angry squaws compelled to drop 
the lariat to letthem pass; the sun lighted up the scarlet 
blankets of a group smoking on the hillside, and barnished 
the tin armlets and ornamented belts of the Indian girls. 
The warriors refrained from hunting, but the young braves 
brought down from time*to time rabbits, skins, prairie hens, 
and curlew. The skunk is considered a great delicacy, and 
from the number fastened to the waists of the boys, the 
thought of an invitation to a feast grew unpleasant. 
At the Niobrara we were presented with the first venison 
of the hunt, and as an Indian seldom gives without expect- 
ing something in return, we decided upon a feast. Whom 
to invite was the momentous question, In our dilemma 
we appealed to Leaping Thun ler, who took the responsi- 
bility upon himself, and promised to secure the proper 
guests. Into the stew-pots went venison, beans, a rabbit, 
and prairie hen. The skin of the lodge was raised and tied 
to sticks, thus extending the area protected from the sun, 
.and at the back we spread a scarlet blanket for The Fat and 
Poor Bull, and on either side skins for the braves. When 
everything was ready Leaping Thunder proclaimed in a 
loud voice that we were about to eat, and after a moment’s 
pause the names of those he wished to joinus. They came 
immediately, entering with a grave ‘“How koda!” the latter 
word meaning friend, the former possessing an almost uni- 
versal significance, expressing delight, thanks, welcome, 
questioning, affirmation, etc. While eating little was said, 
but when the pipe began to circulate the “‘talk” became 
general. One of the chiefs upbraided me for being without 
a lodge of my own, and gravely proposed that I should 
accept his daughter, and give my rifle in return. He spoke 
earnestly of her beauty, her capacity for labor, and the bet- 
ter position I should hold in the tribe if possessed of a 
maiden beloved by his people. I declined the offer in as 
choice language as possible, at which my would-be father- 
in-law grinned good-naturedly. The ‘‘talk” of the Indians 
among themselves is always the same—anecdotes of war 
and hunting—in which the teller figures asthe hero. Their 
gestures are graceful, their actions animated and apparently 
suited to the word, while their voices, musical and many- 
toned, rise and fall with the lights and shades of their 
stories. Old Giant, a brave once connected with Little 
ltaven’s famous band, warming with his theme, seized my 
rifle, and taking aim at an imaginary foe glanced along the 
barrel with the expression of a fiend; then, dropping the 
weapon, he struck his right fist twice in quick succession 
into the hollow of his left hand, snapped his finger, gave a 
heavy sigh, and drooped his head upon his shoulder. 
‘How! How!” uttered in tones of suppressed excitement, 
and the nervous tightening of blankets, told of natures 
strangely stirred by the eloquence of the narrator. As the 
twilight deepened, the fire without threw its bright light 
into the lodge, bringing out in bold relief upon the canvas 
covering the dusky forms of the warriors. 
The Niobrara, like the Missouri, is remarkable for its 
rapid current, its shifting bed, and numerous sand-bars 
Following on my trail was an old squaw bearing a striking 
resemblance to Miss Cushman as ‘‘made up” for Meg-Mer- 
rilles, and mounted astride a huge pack fastened to a tall, 
raw-boned American horse. At the fording my pony so 
tore away the bank of the channel that the horse of the 
ancient maiden, in his struggles to gain a foothold, burst 
the girth, and his precious load was deposited in the stream. 
Such a splashing, spluttering, and incoherent chattering! 
The bluffs fairly echoed the shouts of the Indians, who 
keenly enjoyed the old woman’s discomfiture, and carefully 
refrained from lending her any assistance. With the aid 
of Trumbo I fished her out, and landed her safely in the 
mud above, a drenched and furious woman. 
The Indian method of hunting the deer and antelope 
seems to a looker-on, not heated by the chase, cruel sport. 
But food is the object of the Indian hunter, and he is won- 
derfully successful in securing it. Notwithstanding their 
great speed and bottom, these animals seldom escape their 
pursuers on the open prairie. Mounted on their swift 
ponies, the Indians become as it were a pack of hounds 
that run by sight. In all directions they move, searching 
the country with eyes that see everything. On discover- 
ing deer no attempt is made at concealment, but, with 
bridle rein between their teeth, loading their guns or ad- 
justing their arrows as they ride, the hunters bear down on 
the doomed animals. Off bound the deer, but Indians are 
before them; they run to the right—more Indians; to the 
left—still Indians. The country, which at first seemed 
open, narrows to asmall circle. The deer double on them- 
selves. Hemmed in on every side, there is no escape; the 
bullet and the arrow do their work. All their hunting, 
whether of man or beast, involves a system of surround- 
ing. It is this method, thoroughly understood, and invari- 
ably practised where numbers will allow, that renders the 
Indian so formidable on the prairie. Although numbers 
are in at the death, there is no dispute as to the distribution 
of the carcasses. 
The meat generally goes to the hunters that most desire 
it, for the rest are sure at some future time to eat its equiva- 
lent with the receivers. The heart, liver, and parts of the 
throat, are often eaten raw. upon the spot, or taken back to 
camp for the favorite child. After selecting a portion of 
the meat for immediate use, the remainder is cut into slices 
and hung on poles to dry. Thus prepared, it soon shrivels 
under the scorching rays of the sun, and o»resents the ap- 
pearance of leather covered with a thin coating of mould. 
It is musty to the taste, and by no means satisfactory food 
even when boiled, for the Indians never use salt, or condi- 
ments of any kind, in cooking. Their skill in riding and 
managing their ponies is wonderful. Ata full run they 
will drop to the animal’s side and shoot an arrow from un- 
der his neck, or, without in the least slackening their pace, 
pick up a turtle lying in the sand. The prairie hens often 
fly low over the train, and itis no uncommon sight to see 
an Indian use his lariat with such precision as to bring one 
to the ground, or throw his tomahawk with such accuracy 
as to cleave in two an unfledged chicken hiding in the grass. 
On the march many of the young braves occupy the time 
breaking colts. Securing a lariat about his lower jaw, they 
lash the poor brute into a run, occasionally jerking the rope 
with such violence as to throw him upon his nose. He 
rears and plunges, but the Indian, although often drawn 
for rods, never loosens his hold, but at the first opportunity 
vaults upon his back. Off rushes the pony like mad. No 
attempt is made to check him. Suddenly he stops, his eyes 
dilated, his nostrils quivering, and placing his feet as near 
together as possible jumps into the air, coming down with 
limbs stiff, and so forcibly as almost to start the blood from 
his rider’s nose. Still, like Sinbad’s “‘Old Man of the 
Sea,” his tormentor keeps his place. Bolt upright stands 
the frightened animal, and the Indian, sliding off, by a 
quick and dexterous move throws him on his side. he 
work is done. Never, after such an ordeal, does the poney 
give any trouble, except perhaps at the first moment of 
starting. 
Dogs in great numbers are found in every Indian 
encampment. They are snarling, cowardly brutes, singly 
incapable of mischief, but the bark of one will call around 
a pack that, brave in numbers, are dangerous. They are 
never regularly fed. Starved to-day and gorged to-morrow, 
never caressed, but kicked and cuffed at every turn, it is a 
ae that they retain any of the habits of domestic ani- 
mals. 
The heat in the lodge was insufferable. The canvas 
snapped as if protesting against the efforts of the sun to 
scorch it. What air there was came impregnated with the 
smell of drying meat. I sauntered down to the river to 
bathe. While splashing about in the shallow water I was 
startled by a merry laugh on the bank, and looking up saw 
several Indian girls curiously examining my clothing. The 
sltuation did not seem to strike them as peculiar, but to me 
it was exceedingly embarrassing. They showed no signs of 
leaving, so after remaining in the water nearly half an hour, 
I came out with the best grace possible, and dressed myself, 
they looking on the while. Returning to camp, I proposed 
to Trumbo that we should ride a race with five braves, wa- 
gering ablanket and two cans of powder on the result. 
The wager was accepted, and each, selecting his favorite 
pony, rode back about a mile, taking a position abreast of 
the others—the Indians stripped to their breech-cloths, and 
mounted bareback, with only a noosed lariat for bridle. 
Trumbo, removing his outer garments, appeared in a cos- 
tume almost as airy, and I, performing the same operation, 
stepped forth in red flannel underclothing. We started at 
a given signal, and for full a quarter of the distance kept a 
lope, but suddenly each pony bounded forward. Yelling 
like wildcats, we sped as arrows from a bow. The braves 
lashed right and left, but neither whip nor spur was needed 
for my little beauty. Straightened as a greyhound, on the 
run she moved with scarce a motion, seeming not to touch 
the ground. The shouts of the Indians before, the screams 
of the squaws on either side, and the bark of the dogs in 
our rear, passed allunheeded. Neck and neck we neared 
the goal. A huge cur sprang out, and the pony at the right 
swerved badly. Trumbo reached home first, and just be- 
hind, but with no daylight between us, an Indian and I. 
We held high carnival at the ‘‘feast” that day, and a white 
havelock which I wore for the occasion procured me the 
Indian name of Wa-ha-pa Ska, meaning White Cap. 
While in the Sand Hills an unsuccessful attempt was 
made by a war party of Tetons to stampede the horses, and 
capture several Indian girls gathering plums in a ravine 
near camp. They were driven off, except from the ele- 
ments. A furious wind, accompanied by heavy rain, 
lasted from midnight until nearly morning. Several of the 
lodges were blown down, and their occupants exposed to 
the ‘‘peltings of the pitiless storm.” We turned out of our 
beds before daylight, a soaked and surly crowd; but good 
humor returned with the rising sun, and the day’s ride was 
enlivened by horse and foot races, wrestling, and shooting 
with the bow and arrow. To the lover of wild sport, hard- 
ships and annoyances are as nothing. The rough hours so 
blend with the happy ones as to form a perfect whole. He 
scarcely remembers when, hungry, wet, and numbed to the 
bones, he rode over the lonely prairie in search of camp; 
but how vividly he recalls the glorious chase, the speed of 
his straining horse, the hound of the running deer, and the 
death shot of his trusty rifle. 
At the noon halt a fawn, startled from its hiding-place in 
the willow bushes, ran through the camp closely pursued 
by the dogs. An arrow shot by an Indian passed through 
its neck, and cutting its way into a lodge, grazed the cheek 
of a squaw within. She rushed out in great haste, but 
ceased scolding on being presented with the skin and intes- 
tines. The arrows used by the Indians are abditit twenty 
inches in length, and are furnished with triangular iron 
points, the edges of which are very sharp. Within acertain 
range, say thirty yards, they are as effective as a bullet. 
When a Sioux warrior is ready to take asquaw he selects 
from among the Indian girls the one that suits his fancy, 
and if there is no obstacle in the way, buys her of her 
father, paying the equivalent of from thirty-five to fifty 
dollars, usually in ponies. She is expected to remain true 
to him, and perform all the labor. He in return provides 
the lodge with food, and contributes largely toward the 
support of her numerous relatives. While many of the 
Indian women are repulsive in appearance, the girls and 
younger squaws of the Yankton Sioux are, generally speak- 
ing, tall and finely formed, with regular features, that seen 
in profile resemble chiselled marble. Their eyes are often 
large and soft as those of the fawn, though usually sharp 
and bright, like beads. The teeth of both the men and wo- 
men are singularly beautiful, notwithstanding their utter 
disregard cf all dental laws. They use them to straighten 
arrows, break bones, right the turned edges of their hunt- 
ing knives, and after cutting bullets into pieces te chew the 
pieces round for buckshots. But few old women accompa- 
ny a hunting party, for if from any cause they become dis- 
abled, they are left upon the prairie as a thing that has out- 
lived its usefulness, and are devoured by the wolves that in 
large numbers always follow the trail. 
While watching the train from a hillside—for the scene 
never lost its charm—two Indian boys, Red Cloud and 
Famisoed Wolf, came galloping up, and jumping from their 
ponies began wrestling. Red Cloud, throwing his compan- 
ion, held him face downward, planting his knees upon his 
shoulders, grasped his braided lock, pretended to give a 
circular cut, and tngged as if tearing away the scalp; then 
shaking an imaginary trophy he sprang to his feet, and 
with a yell was off like a shot. It was not altogether a 
pleasing exhibition. Trumbo joined me, and together we 
rode into the hills for a shot at two cranes perched on an 
elevation at no great distance. We secured one, that must 
have measured full six feet from tip to tip of his wings, but 
on returning for our horses, to our great dismay beheld 
them making off into the bottom. To follow would pro- 
voke an endless chase, so we imitated the whinney of a 
colt, and the horses turned and galloped directly towards 
us. As they came over the ridge, behind which we were 
concealed, we clutched the lariats, and for an instant 
turned a very fair furrow in the sand. With torn shirts, 
and chests like nutmeg graters, we mounted the runaways, 
determined to ride some of the surplus spirit out of them, 
Stumbling recklessly through a prairie-dog village, unheed- 
ing the remonstrances of its pert and brighteyed residents, 
we struck the trail of alarge gray wolf, who knuckled 
down to work, and with lolling tongue and drooping tail 
made for the hills before us. In the excitement we failed 
to notice the deepening green of the grass, when suddenly, 
as if the earth had opened, the ponies sank to their bellies, 
and we were off quickly, but not gracefully. We werein 
amud-hole. To turn was impossible. I fancy the wolf 
laughed as he turned the rising ground. With considerable 
difficulty we extricated ourselves and animals, and reached 
camp just as The Fat, alarmed at our long absence, was 
sending a party in search of us. In Poor Bill’s lodge we 
“feasted” on a tough old badger, that even in death defind 
the softening influence of the stew-pots, and soon after I 
was fast asleep on Mme. Poor Bull’s buffaloskin. ‘‘Tetons! 
Tetons!” and a violent shaking from Mardi, an Indian girl, 
brought me to my feet. The Tetons had driven in the 
scouts, and as they dashed through camp, proclaiming the 
presence of their hated foe, the wildest excitement prevail- 
ed. I shall never forget their appearance, or wonder at the 
settler’s tale of the ‘‘swooping savage,” for with bodies bent 
low over their ponies, with lips drawn back from their glitter 
