The Prairie (36 page)

The trapper listened to the reasons of the young soldier with great
attention; and, as they were given with the steadiness of one who did
not suffer apprehension to blind his judgment, they did not fail to
produce a suitable impression.

"It is rational," rejoined the trapper, when the other had delivered
his reasons; "it is very rational, for what man cannot move with his
strength he must circumvent with his wits. It is reason that makes him
stronger than the buffaloe, and swifter than the moose. Now stay you
here, and keep yourselves close. My life and my traps are but of little
value, when the welfare of so many human souls are concerned; and,
moreover, I may say that I know the windings of Indian cunning.
Therefore will I go alone upon the prairie. It may so happen, that I can
yet draw the eyes of a Sioux from this spot and give you time and room
to fly."

As if resolved to listen to no remonstrance, the old man quietly
shouldered his rifle, and moving leisurely through the thicket, he
issued on the plain, at a point whence he might first appear before the
eyes of the Siouxes, without exciting their suspicions that he came from
its cover.

The instant that the figure of a man dressed in the garb of a hunter,
and bearing the well known and much dreaded rifle, appeared before the
eyes of the Siouxes, there was a sensible, though a suppressed sensation
in the band. The artifice of the trapper had so far succeeded, as to
render it extremely doubtful whether he came from some point on the open
prairie, or from the thicket; though the Indians still continued to cast
frequent and suspicious glances at the cover. They had made their
halt at the distance of an arrow-flight from the bushes; but when the
stranger came sufficiently nigh to show that the deep coating of red and
brown, which time and exposure had given to his features, was laid upon
the original colour of a Pale-face, they slowly receded from the spot,
until they reached a distance that might defeat the aim of fire-arms.

In the mean time the old man continued to advance, until he had got nigh
enough to make himself heard without difficulty. Here he stopped,
and dropping his rifle to the earth, he raised his hand with the palm
outward, in token of peace. After uttering a few words of reproach
to his hound, who watched the savage group with eyes that seemed to
recognise them, he spoke in the Sioux tongue—

"My brothers are welcome," he said, cunningly constituting himself the
master of the region in which they had met, and assuming the offices
of hospitality. "They are far from their villages, and are hungry. Will
they follow to my lodge, to eat and sleep?"

No sooner was his voice heard, than the yell of pleasure, which burst
from a dozen mouths, convinced the sagacious trapper, that he also was
recognised. Feeling that it was too late to retreat, he profited by the
confusion which prevailed among them, while Weucha was explaining
his character, to advance, until he was again face to face with the
redoubtable Mahtoree. The second interview between these two men, each
of whom was extraordinary in his way, was marked by the usual caution
of the frontiers. They stood, for nearly a minute, examining each other
without speaking.

"Where are your young men?" sternly demanded the Teton chieftain, after
he found that the immovable features of the trapper refused to betray
any of their master's secrets, under his intimidating look.

"The Long-knives do not come in bands to trap the beaver? I am alone."

"Your head is white, but you have a forked tongue. Mahtoree has been in
your camp. He knows that you are not alone. Where is your young wife,
and the warrior that I found upon the prairie?"

"I have no wife. I have told my brother that the woman and her friend
were strangers. The words of a grey head should be heard, and not
forgotten. The Dahcotahs found travellers asleep, and they thought they
had no need of horses. The women and children of a Pale-face are not
used to go far on foot. Let them be sought where you left them."

The eyes of the Teton flashed fire as he answered—

"They are gone: but Mahtoree is a wise chief, and his eyes can see a
great distance!"

"Does the partisan of the Tetons see men on these naked fields?"
retorted the trapper, with great steadiness of mien. "I am very old,
and my eyes grow dim. Where do they stand?" The chief remained silent a
moment, as if he disdained to contest any further the truth of a fact,
concerning which he was already satisfied. Then pointing to the traces
on the earth, he said, with a sudden transition to mildness, in his eye
and manner—

"My father has learnt wisdom, in many winters; can he tell me whose
moccasin has left this trail?"

"There have been wolves and buffaloes on the prairies; and there may
have been cougars too."

Mahtoree glanced his eye at the thicket, as if he thought the latter
suggestion not impossible. Pointing to the place, he ordered his young
men to reconnoitre it more closely, cautioning them, at the same time,
with a stern look at the trapper, to beware of treachery from the
Big-knives. Three or four half-naked, eager-looking youths lashed their
horses at the word, and darted away to obey the mandate. The old
man trembled a little for the discretion of Paul, when he saw this
demonstration. The Tetons encircled the place two or three times,
approaching nigher and nigher at each circuit, and then galloped back to
their leader to report that the copse seemed empty. Notwithstanding the
trapper watched the eye of Mahtoree, to detect the inward movements
of his mind, and if possible to anticipate, in order to direct his
suspicions, the utmost sagacity of one so long accustomed to study the
cold habits of the Indian race, could however detect no symptom,
or expression, that denoted how far he credited or distrusted this
intelligence. Instead of replying to the information of his scouts,
he spoke kindly to his horse, and motioning to a youth to receive the
bridle, or rather halter, by which he governed the animal, he took the
trapper by the arm, and led him a little apart from the rest of the
band.

"Has my brother been a warrior?" said the wily Teton, in a tone that he
intended should be conciliating.

"Do the leaves cover the trees in the season of fruits? Go. The
Dahcotahs have not seen as many warriors living as I have looked on
in their blood! But what signifies idle remembrancing," he added in
English, "when limbs grow stiff, and sight is failing!"

The chief regarded him a moment with a severe look, as if he would lay
bare the falsehood he had heard; but meeting in the calm eye and steady
mien of the trapper a confirmation of the truth of what he said, he took
the hand of the old man and laid it gently on his head, in token of the
respect that was due to the other's years and experience.

"Why then do the Big-knives tell their red brethren to bury the
tomahawk," he said, "when their own young men never forget that they are
braves, and meet each other so often with bloody hands?"

"My nation is more numerous than the buffaloes on the prairies, or the
pigeons in the air. Their quarrels are frequent; yet their warriors
are few. None go out on the war-path but they who are gifted with the
qualities of a brave, and therefore such see many battles."

"It is not so—my father is mistaken," returned Mahtoree, indulging in
a smile of exulting penetration, at the very instant he corrected the
force of his denial, in deference to the years and services of one so
aged. "The Big-knives are very wise, and they are men; all of them would
be warriors. They would leave the Red-skins to dig roots and hoe the
corn. But a Dahcotah is not born to live like a woman; he must strike
the Pawnee and the Omahaw, or he will lose the name of his fathers."

"The Master of Life looks with an open eye on his children, who die in
a battle that is fought for the right; but he is blind, and his ears are
shut to the cries of an Indian, who is killed when plundering, or doing
evil to his neighbour."

"My father is old," said Mahtoree, looking at his aged companion, with
an expression of irony, that sufficiently denoted he was one of those
who overstep the trammels of education, and who are perhaps a little
given to abuse the mental liberty they thus obtain. "He is very old: has
he made a journey to the far country; and has he been at the trouble to
come back, to tell the young men what he has seen?"

"Teton," returned the trapper, throwing the breach of his rifle to the
earth with startling vehemence, and regarding his companion with steady
serenity, "I have heard that there are men, among my people, who study
their great medicines until they believe themselves to be gods, and who
laugh at all faith except in their own vanities. It may be true. It is
true; for I have seen them. When man is shut up in towns and schools,
with his own follies, it may be easy to believe himself greater than the
Master of Life; but a warrior, who lives in a house with the clouds for
its roof, where he can at any moment look both at the heavens and at the
earth, and who daily sees the power of the Great Spirit, should be more
humble. A Dahcotah chieftain ought to be too wise to laugh at justice."

The crafty Mahtoree, who saw that his free-thinking was not likely to
produce a favourable impression on the old man, instantly changed his
ground, by alluding to the more immediate subject of their interview.
Laying his hand gently on the shoulder of the trapper, he led him
forward, until they both stood within fifty feet of the margin of the
thicket. Here he fastened his penetrating eyes on the other's honest
countenance, and continued the discourse—

"If my father has hid his young men in the bush, let him tell them to
come forth. You see that a Dahcotah is not afraid. Mahtoree is a great
chief! A warrior, whose head is white, and who is about to go to the
Land of Spirits, cannot have a tongue with two ends, like a serpent."

"Dahcotah, I have told no lie. Since the Great Spirit made me a man, I
have lived in the wilderness, or on these naked plains, without lodge or
family. I am a hunter and go on my path alone."

"My father has a good carabine. Let him point it in the bush and fire."

The old man hesitated a moment, and then slowly prepared himself to give
this delicate assurance of the truth of what he said, without which he
plainly perceived the suspicions of his crafty companion could not be
lulled. As he lowered his rifle, his eye, although greatly dimmed and
weakened by age, ran over the confused collection of objects, that
lay embedded amid the party-coloured foliage of the thicket, until it
succeeded in catching a glimpse of the brown covering of the stem of a
small tree. With this object in view, he raised the piece to a level
and fired. The bullet had no sooner glided from the barrel than a tremor
seized the hands of the trapper, which, had it occurred a moment sooner,
would have utterly disqualified him for so hazardous an experiment. A
frightful silence succeeded the report, during which he expected to hear
the shrieks of the females, and then, as the smoke whirled away in the
wind, he caught a view of the fluttering bark, and felt assured that all
his former skill was not entirely departed from him. Dropping the piece
to the earth, he turned again to his companion with an air of the utmost
composure, and demanded—

"Is my brother satisfied?"

"Mahtoree is a chief of the Dahcotahs," returned the cunning Teton,
laying his hand on his chest, in acknowledgment of the other's
sincerity. "He knows that a warrior, who has smoked at so many
council-fires, until his head has grown white, would not be found in
wicked company. But did not my father once ride on a horse, like a rich
chief of the Pale-faces, instead of travelling on foot like a hungry
Konza?"

"Never! The Wahcondah has given me legs, and he has given me resolution
to use them. For sixty summers and winters did I journey in the woods
of America, and ten tiresome years have I dwelt on these open fields,
without finding need to call often upon the gifts of the other creatur's
of the Lord to carry me from place to place."

"If my father has so long lived in the shade, why has he come upon the
prairies? The sun will scorch him."

The old man looked sorrowfully about for a moment, and then turning with
a confidential air to the other, he replied—

"I passed the spring, summer, and autumn of life among the trees. The
winter of my days had come, and found me where I loved to be, in the
quiet—ay, and in the honesty of the woods! Teton, then I slept happily,
where my eyes could look up through the branches of the pines and the
beeches, to the very dwelling of the Good Spirit of my people. If I
had need to open my heart to him, while his fires were burning above my
head, the door was open and before my eyes. But the axes of the choppers
awoke me. For a long time my ears heard nothing but the uproar of
clearings. I bore it like a warrior and a man; there was a reason that
I should bear it: but when that reason was ended, I bethought me to
get beyond the accursed sounds. It was trying to the courage and to
the habits, but I had heard of these vast and naked fields, and I came
hither to escape the wasteful temper of my people. Tell me, Dahcotah,
have I not done well?"

The trapper laid his long lean finger on the naked shoulder of the
Indian as he ended, and seemed to demand his felicitations on his
ingenuity and success, with a ghastly smile, in which triumph was
singularly blended with regret. His companion listened intently, and
replied to the question by saying, in the sententious manner of his
race—

"The head of my father is very grey; he has always lived with men, and
he has seen everything. What he does is good; what he speaks is wise.
Now let him say, is he sure that he is a stranger to the Big-knives, who
are looking for their beasts on every side of the prairies and cannot
find them?"