# Gentlemen of the North/Chapter 8
### CHAPTER VIII
#### WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE

ON our left the warriors were entering the woods. On our ght they were riding their ponies through the fire to nd us behind the smoke. Had it been autumn there would have been no passing the flames, but with the short stubble sprinkled with the new grass trying to gain the sun, and with the ground still wet, there was no danger. The smoke, the night, and the shouting brought much confusion to the enemy. Away from it all we rode, the girl and the Pillager in advance, and I scampering behind with my two barrels ready.
Our escape must have been quickly discovered, as we had not travelled more than two miles before we heard shouting to the north and abreast of us. We slowed our animals to a walk, our course tending a bit south of west and which, if persisted in, would bring us to the Cheyenne River. The Sioux knew we were somewhere south of them and were concentrating all their efforts in throwing a barrier across the plains to prevent our turning north towards the Pembina.
I rode up beside the girl. She reached out, patted my arm and said—
"I've made you a lot of bother."
"Life out here is made up of bothers. I'm glad to find one that's worth while."
"You say it very nicely," she approved. "But I won't be a bother to anyone again if I can get out of this. So long as I could manage without being helped it was my place to stay. Now that I find I have to shift my responsibilities I am anxious to go back east. I never had believed it, but I do now; a woman is sure to need help some time."
"She wouldn't be a woman if she didn't," I declared. "Even men expect to help each other in this country."
"He doesn't have to ask another to see to it he isn't taken prisoner," she gravely replied. "I had no right to ask you. Another example of dodging responsibilities."
"God forbid it should ever have to be!"
"But you wouldn't let them take me alive?" she fiercely demanded.
"No man would," I answered.
Again she patted my arm and murmured—
"If we had met back east we might have been such friends."
The wind whipped a strand of her hair across my face, and in that moment she was all feminine—dependent, and her presence became a tonic. I was saved from replying to her last speech—a foolish speech, as there was nothing to prevent our being "such friends" out here—by a warning hiss from the Pillager.
He leaped to the ground and ordered us to do likewise. I helped the girl to dismount, and the chief caught her pony by the nose to keep him from giving an alarm, while I muzzled my own beast and waited. A thudding of hoofs, not more than four men, as the Pillager whispered, drew nearer. They were bearing directly down on us, and I was anxious to release my animal and make ready to fire. Flat Mouth warned:
"Be still! See that the horse doesn't call out. They can't see us."
I knew this must be true, as we could see nothing of them. On they came and raced by in front of us and very close—a suggestion of motion as if something had disturbed the darkness and left a swirl of darkness behind it. These were spies sent out to learn our true position. Above us on the right the enemy kept calling back and forth as they patrolled from east to west. Still on foot, we resumed our flight, the chief picking his course without any hesitation. I suggested the necessity of a turning movement before daylight, but he discouraged it, saying:
"We must keep this way till light. Then we must hide. This is a big war-party. It will be ashamed to go back and face the women without scalps to pay for the braves we have killed. These are the Sioux of the plains, very cruel and fierce. Once they held the country along the lower Red River. They are always at war with the Chippewas."
"For just where are we striking?"
"The bend of the Cheyenne. It is very rough and heavily wooded along the river. The Sioux claim the country. We can hide there a few days and then go home."
From what he said I judged the distance to be covered was about forty miles. I know that we rode and walked all night long with the Sioux hovering to the north of us during much of the journey. When the east began lighting its fires, and we were permitted to see the plain around us, I was delighted by two discoveries; the plain was empty of Indians, and a short distance ahead a thick growth marked the course of the Cheyenne where it made its northern loop.
The girl swayed in her saddle, and I rode closer to her.
"I was asleep," she drowsily murmured, leaning against my arm. "Dreamed the Indians had captured me, that you came."
Again her head dropped, and it was a long time before I learned of the heroics I played in that particular dream.
Flat Mouth led the way into the growth, going ahead to make sure no grizzlies were waiting to pounce upon our horses. After securely hobbling the animals so they could not escape, he disappeared in the direction of the river which flowed unseen near-by. I spread out the skin and three of the robes and induced the girl to lie down. Then I placed the remaining robes over her to keep out the morning chill and promised to call her for breakfast.
Searching the edge of the growth, I collected an armful of dry sticks which I knew would not smoke, and by the time I had done this Flat Mouth appeared with several wild geese. He attended to the cooking, making a fire so small as to seem ridiculous to a white man. As he broiled the fowl he told me the trees were ripped and seamed by bears' claws and that both banks of the river must be teeming with the animals. I had nothing but contempt for the black and brown varieties, knowing them to be harmless, but the grizzly was a different proposition. Flat Mouth insisted, however, that these seldom attacked unless cornered or wounded.
The girl woke up, and, after she had eaten, the chief and I stuffed ourselves. Then he insisted that we try to get some sleep. The sun was half-way through its day's work when I opened my eyes. The girl was seated with her back to a tree, her hair a marvel of neatness. She had thrown a robe over me, and this little act, so meaningless to those never initiated into the wilds, affected me strangely. It was the first time in many years that anyone had taken thought for my comfort; certainly the first wherein a woman had given me any attention since I was a child in the States and under my mother's care. My first sensation was that of being "mothered." I liked it. All men do, let them disclaim to the contrary as they will.
I half closed my eyes and for several minutes pretended to be asleep, that I might watch her. Her blue eyes were serene; her fine features were softened by repose. Here, in a position of great danger, she impressed me as revealing her true self, her genuine womanliness. At the X. Y. post, where no physical harm could intrude, she had been cold, hard and unapproachable.
At last she caught me spying and coloured furiously, instinctively feeling of her hair.
"Where is the chief?" I innocently asked.
She pointed, and I arose and beheld him sleeping, lying on his face. When I stepped toward him he came to his senses and sprang to his feet like a wildcat. Our voices had not disturbed him but my step had. Subconsciously, perhaps, he had catalogued our voices, but a stealthy step was not so easily classified. He always insisted a person woke up more easily and more completely—woke up all over as he expressed it—if he slept on his face. The girl insisted that he finish out his nap. but he replied he was "filled" with sleep and would need no more till another day.
The girl said that during our slumbers there had been no signs of life on the plain except the buffalo and their lurking escort of gray wolves. She had heard sounds back in the woods, and once a red deer had poked his head through the bushes to look us over.
I went with Flat Mouth to the river, where he fashioned several drinking-dishes out of bark, and while there we saw seven grizzlies descend the opposite shore to drink. They were huge brutes and more to be feared than the Sioux, should they take a notion to attack. The Pillager observed them unconcernedly, however, assuring me that they would not bother us if we did not trouble them.
The river, he reminded us, was seldom visited by Assiniboin, Cree, or Chippewa because the Sioux claimed it. From fear of attacks from the northern Indians, the Sioux, in turn, seldom came there except in war strength. So all animal life had been left to develop undisturbed by man. The bears had not been hunted and did not know man as a destroyer. This was all very comforting as long as I could believe it, but the thought of the girl back in the little glade alone, with these monsters wandering about in batches of seven, made me anxious to return.
We took water to her and on the way started up red deer which were nowhere near as shy as those on the Red River. Leaving her again, we visited the horses and found them contentedly grazing inside the fringe of bushes and willows. Leaving the chief with them, I rejoined the girl.
"Must we wait until night before starting home?" she eagerly asked.
"I believe that is the chief's idea. He knows the country and the Indians far better than we do. We must take no foolish risks."
"If you were alone would you start now?" she asked.
In truth I should have, but I said nothing.
"Then pretend I'm a man. Let's go at once," she cried with a show of impatience, and she stood and began gathering up the robes.
My imagination was incapable of detecting anything masculine in her splendid womanhood. I could not suppress a small smile at her suggestion. Instantly she was the woman of the X. Y. post and was commanding:
"Call the Indian! Tell him we start at once."
Flat Mouth appeared on the scene before I could remonstrate with her. In Chippewa she repeated to him her intention of starting for the Red River. He shook his head, saying—
"We must stay here a little longer."
"You two can stay. I will go alone. The country is perfectly safe. The Sioux have lost the trail entirely."
I have no doubt she would have taken a pony and set forth if I had not stopped her, saying:
"You can't go alone. We'll take orders from the Pillager."
"I'll take orders from no one," she haughtily informed. "I suppose I may have one of the horses, seeing that they belonged to the Sioux?"
"No."
"Very well, I can make it afoot," she calmly said.
"What's the matter with you?" I angrily inquired. "Can't you reason? Or is it your temper?"
I thought she was trying to annihilate me with her furious gaze. By an effort she mastered herself and quietly retorted:
"My temper is nothing to you. We're thrown together by a series of mishaps. I appreciate your coming to find me, but if your coming makes you feel any responsibility for my acts I'm sorry you came."
"The Lord forbid I should ever have to be responsible for such a bundle of spite as you seem to be," I peevishly protested.
She smiled with her lips, turned and walked towards the plain. I caught up with her and demanded—
"What do you plan?"
"I'm on my way to the X. Y. post," she lazily informed.
"Unless you return to cover at once the Pillager and I will tie you."
"You would never dare!" she gritted, turning on me like a cat.
All my silly resentment dropped from me, and I gently explained:
"Miss Dearness I should never dare to look a man, red or white, in the face if I allowed you to start alone for the Red. I won't threaten again to tie you, but if you start for the Red I'll go with you. It's hardly fair to let the Pillager go with us as he is of a different race."
She fought the battle with herself, her red hair being a true gauge of her temper. Suddenly she surrendered, murmuring: "I was wrong. We'll go back to the chief."
"You're tired. Your nerves are out of tune. In a few hours it will be night; then we can go."
"It isn't my nerves," she contritely corrected. "It's just temper."
"My temper is off the key. Of course I spoke foolishly when I said I would tie you."
"I'll obey orders."
Flat Mouth had watched us without a lineament of his strong face betraying that he could either see or hear. When we joined him he gave her a quick look and walked towards the horses. She remained silent, not inclined to talk. I waited some minutes to see if she desired companionship, then went after the Pillager.
The chief was crouching behind some cherry trees and had, I observed, shifted the horses deeper into the growth. He was staring intently out on the plain. He motioned for me to drop beside him. My heart gave a thump, for I had been so positive we had shaken the Sioux off our trail that this hint of their presence weakened me for a moment.
"Assiniboins," he said.
"Where?" I demanded. He pointed to the northern rim and by much staring through half-closed lids I managed to make out some dots.
"Buffaloes," I decided.
"Assiniboins," he repeated.
"Then they're friendly. They won't do anything worse than try to steal our horses."
"They've killed traders when catching them alone. These are not of the same band that comes to the Pembina."
"All the Assiniboins are good robe-makers. They're all friendly with the whites," I persisted.
"These are not any Red River band. If they see us they will do their best to kill us and take our horses. I am an Indian. I tell you I know this."
As a trader I had had experience only with straggling bands of the tribe. It was hard for me to believe that I had anything to fear from a people who begged rum rations from me and who went and came when I gave the word. My incredulity must have been obvious, for the chief hissed out—
"Do you think Eshkebugecoshe is afraid?"
No, he was not afraid. He had lived with Mandans and had fought with them and their allies, the Crows, against these same Assiniboins and the Sioux. The tribe had taken to horses, being a migratory people and forever chasing the buffalo, and horses they must have. That they would appropriate ours if they got the chance went without saying, but I had supposed the theft would be committed with stealth and in no event be accompanied with violence.
"Say what is to be done and we will do it," I agreed.
"We will wait until they go. If they come down here we will follow up the river," he replied. Then very significantly—"They must not see the white woman."
"She was big medicine to them once," I reminded.
"To those who came to the Pembina. But the Voice is back on the River That Calls, and this band would kill her to prevent it being stolen again."
I remembered what the girl had told me, much to the same effect, and if Flat Mouth was not afraid, I was.
Yet I still hoped and half believed the dark objects were buffaloes. At so great a distance it is impossible to detect any but the most rapid motion. A horse galloping at full speed will scarcely appear to be moving. So far as the dots were concerned, they appeared to be stationary. We rose to go back to the camp, and I was debating whether it was necessary to inform Miss Dearness of this possible new peril, when the Pillager gave a sharp yell and went bounding through the bush as if the devil were nipping his heels. Believing the girl was in some danger, I charged after him. When I entered the glade he was furiously stamping out a little fire. Miss Dearness stood at one side anxiously watching him.
"What have I done now?" she whispered to me.
"Nothing," I warmly assured, scowling at the Pillager.
"Green bark!" he grunted and, tilting his head, he pointed upward. Even with the fire extinguished there was a pale haze floating clear of the tree tops,
I belittled it, saying—
"An eagle couldn't see that, Eshkebugecoshe."
"They have sacrificed dogs to their manito. Their medicine is strong," he gloomly retorted.
"What's the matter, Mr. Franklin? Are the Sioux near?" cried Miss Dearness.
"Not a Sioux in sight. The Pillager and I disagree about some dots out on the plain. He says they're Assiniboins. I say they are buffaloes."
"And he fears they saw the smoke," she cried, wringing her hands. "Now I've brought new danger on you two by my thoughtlessness. It was so dreary waiting. I forgot myself. I threw some green bark on the hot ashes to see it curl up—it burst into flame—then I fed on some green sticks—I bring bad luck."
"Nonsense," I sharply replied. "Is it surprising that a band of thieving Indians should stumble upon us here? They will stand clear of my gun. It's stood off their betters."
I turned to Flat Mouth and boasted the same to him.
He shook his head energetically:
"It's no medicine to the Assiniboins, the Crees, or the Chippewas. They have seen it and its two barrels, and the truth has gone through the three tribes. They are two shots afraid; that is all. Soon the Sioux of the plains will know about it. Then it won't be medicine to them."
He ran back to watch the dots, and Miss Dearness and I followed him. Now they were no longer dots but mounted men. They had drawn near enough for us to be sure of this, and yet they strangely resembled buffaloes. It was not until a line of them raced parallel to our hiding place that I discovered the cause for my fancy. Each warrior wore on his head a covering of buffalo hide to which were fixed two horns. In some cases this strange head-gear comprised the whole head of the creature, the skull bones having been carefully removed, and the skin worn as a hood.
They seemed to be racing about aimlessly, and I rejoiced to the Pillager—
"They didn't see the smoke."
"It was such a tiny smoke they couldn't," added Miss Dearness.
The Pillager's answer was a silent drama. Without a word he reached over his shoulder and pulled arrows from his quiver. Without removing his gaze from the swiftly manœuvring horsemen he placed the arrows before him in a row, then caught up his bow and drew the cord taut. Miss Dearness glanced at me with a little frown worrying her forehead.
"They think we're here?" I asked Flat Mouth.
"They know it," he tersely responded.
To my way of thinking the horsemen were not acting suspiciously. One of them, the leader, whirled a disk of rawhide from the point of his lance and the riders raced to where it fell, jabbing and spearing until one managed to pick it up. He, in turn, carried it triumphantly aloft until hard pressed, when he sent it sailing from him, and again the mad scramble to obtain it.
I doubted the Pillager's bald assertion until I noted that the rawhide was always being sent in our direction. Each rush brought the band closer. Now the chief had the piece of hide and his men were strung out behind him in undulating loops like the letter S greatly prolonged. My eyes were distracted by the constantly shifting loops. Yet the leader, with each manœuver, brought them nearer to the woods.
"They're coming!" I softly warned as the first loop suddenly swung far forward so as to line up fully thirty warriors riding abreast with their chief on their left.
"Fire the gun and get back to the horses!" ordered Flat Mouth, snatching up an arrow.
With a terrific shout the whole band came toward us. I fired both barrels into the front rank, and a miss was impossible. Flat Mouth's bow began to twang, and his arrows streamed into the centre of the assault.
"Get to the horses!" he cried and then raised a war-cry.
It was not the Pillager's yell, but the cry of the Sioux, and faster and faster flew the arrows. I seized the girl's wrist and urged her to the camp. I had barely slipped the hobbles and gathered up the halter ropes when Flat Mouth came gliding to us, his face exalted with the lust of battle against great odds. Without a word he took his horse and began leading the way along a deer-path that led up-stream. The girl rode behind him, and I, on foot, brought up the rear.
I managed to reload one barrel and, as nothing happened, I halted and charged the other. The way was rough and at every rod we read the signs of much game. Little piles of hair at the foot of trees whose bark was worn smooth showed that the buffaloes penetrated the thickets in considerable numbers. Signs of bears were the most plentiful, however. It was a pelt-hunter's paradise if he could gather the toll without losing his scalp.
After an hour of continuous travel the Pillager halted and briefly explained:
"They didn't dare to enter the woods at first, thinking the Sioux were there. My Sioux war-cry and the Sioux arrows fooled them. They'll soon find out their mistake. Their men are creeping in now; soon they'll see where only two men and a woman camped. Soon they will come fast."
"What shall we do now?" asked Miss Dearness.
"Cross the river and strike for the Mandan villages on the Missouri," was the astounding answer.
I gasped aloud in dismay. Leave the post with only foolish Probos on duty, with old Tabashaw having free rein to intimidate, to bully, and to consume the company's rum! Run to the Missouri to escape while home was so near?
"It must be so," growled the chief, guessing my reluctance. "Only in that way can we save the white woman."
"To the Mandan villages it is, then," I agreed.
"I'm willing to risk turning back," spoke up Miss Dearness.
"Eshkebugecoshe is not willing," grimly retorted the chief. "I killed some of them, and the gun killed some. When they see how they were tricked only one torture will satisfy them. Wait while I look at the river."
He glided down the rough and heavily timbered bank. While he was gone I strained my eyes, seeing an enemy in every bush and stump. At last he returned and, without speaking, led his pony down the slope. I estimated our position to be directly south of the Lac du Diable country and I knew, from talks with the post Indians, that the river woods we were now traversing thinned out into scattering willows a few miles farther west.
The river was once occupied by the Cheyennes who served as a barrier between the Sioux and the Chippewas, being neutral to both. More than half a century before, the Chippewas, a very jealous people by nature, got the idea the neutrals were favouring the Sioux in trade. While returning from an unsuccessful expedition, a war-party of Chippewas fell on a Cheyenne village and killed many. The Cheyennes promptly migrated across the Missouri, and since then the red shadow of the Sioux has hung over the Chippewas, with no neutral nation between to minimize the shock of an attack.
The crossing was not difficult and we made it easily and surmounted the opposite bank, but left a trail a bull buffalo could read. Flat Mouth held up his hand for silence and cocked his ear. I heard nothing beyond the usual noise of wood life.
"They're following our trail," he warned. "If we stick to the woods they will overtake us. Our only chance is to take to the open now and ride for it. Our horses are fresh, theirs are tired. Once on the plain, we can leave them."
"But they'll chase us?" asked the girl.
He nodded and, to cheer her up, added:
"We shall find some Mandans, or some of the Big Bellies (Minnetarees) hunting buffalo. They will help us."
We broke through the timber and started for the southwest at a gallop. We had gone not more than a fourth of a mile when a ringing cry sounded behind us. Glancing back, I beheld a warrior dancing and waving his arms at the edge of the timber. We had not advanced more than half a mile before nearly a hundred horsemen emerged from the woods.
Flat Mouth was worried, for well he knew that it would take more than an ordinary hunting party to stand off such a force. At the start the chances favoured us, as our animals were well rested, whereas the enemy's had been ridden far and fast. There was no question as to our maintaining a safe lead, providing none of our animals met with an accident. Realizing this my eyes became focused on the flying feet of Miss Dearness's mount. At every stride I expected to see a hoof stick into a hole and hurl her to the ground, leaving one of our mounts to carry a double. I glanced back once more and beheld even more warriors quitting the woods.
Flat Mouth grimly explained:
"Big war-party going to fight the Mandans. We shall have them all the way."
He insisted it was the medicine of the girl's hair that permitted us to drop them before the night came. I felt a great uplift when, with the last light, I failed to make out their figures against the northern skyline. The chief quietly assured me they would be on our trail in the morning.
We camped that night in the bed of a dry coulée. The chief managed to kill a buffalo calf with his bow and arrow, and we ventured to build a small fire, fencing it about with our white robes. Over this we broiled some excellent steaks and cooked enough to carry with us on the morrow. At daybreak we were up, and beheld figures creeping over the horizon.
The country grew rougher with each hour, and we lost the Assiniboins only when we dropped into the hollows. On surmounting ridge or hillock we raised them to view again, tenaciously sticking to our track. Flat Mouth had eyes only for what was ahead, seeking for some opportunity of shaking the enemy off. I was always staring behind me, fascinated by the implacable purpose that held the savages to the chase. The girl rode with head bowed, seldom bothering to lift her gaze from the ground. Her fear was an accident to her pony.
We began to encounter coulées filled with water, each a signpost for the Côuteau du Missouri, the rough and hilly country we must cross before descending to the Missouri River. The Pillager believed the Assiniboins would not venture beyond this height of land. Yet they were in such strong force they might recklessly risk an encounter with Mandan or Minnetaree.
Ahead were the steep red banks of the Missouri. At our feet were two cows freshly slain. Flat Mouth inspected them, and for the first time since our flight from the Cheyenne his immobile features showed animation.
"The brains have been taken to dress hides. Hunters did it, not a war-party after meat. Only Mandans hunt here."
The Assiniboins had been lost to sight for a day. In their place we were dreading a Sioux war-party, for the Sioux hung closely about the Mandan villages, seeking to pick off a victim or two. To the north of the villages was a stretch of timber, and in this cover small bands of the Sioux would hide and wait for days, being satisfied if they killed a lone hunter or a woman. We had passed through the rough country of the Côteau and had an excellent view of the river in the southeast. Flat Mouth insisted we were too far downstream and said we must cross a high and precipitous bank on our right. To me it seemed a needless exertion, as we could round the end of the ridge by skirting its base until it broke off at the river, but the chief felt the menace of the Sioux and must have his way. I did not believe the horses could make the ridge, for the soil was glutinous mud from the spring rains.
The Pillager dismounted to demonstrate what an Indian pony could do and with the beast scrambling like a cat he led the way up the slope. Miss Dearness made light of it, although she was forced to climb it afoot. On reaching the top we had a more intimate view of the river. The valley was some two miles in width and caged in by steep banks. The current was sluggish and swollen, dotted with much driftwood and many black dots which I knew to be drowned buffalo. Immediately below us was a growth of big cottonwoods, and from our position to these woods ran a well-beaten path.
For the first time since our race began, I presumed to take the lead, but before I could do more than press ahead to the brow of the ridge, Flat Mouth was halting me and explaining that the way was full of dangers and that he must go first. I placed my gun across my saddle, but the danger was not animate and consisted of certain deep holes, or pits the Indians had dug for trapping fox and wolves. These pits were ten or more feet deep, with the openings masked by the dead grass.
We descended slowly and cautiously, skirting several of these menaces, and I know I should have plunged into the first one, had I had my way. At the foot of the ridge the Pillager reined in and warned:
"We must say we have come from Fort Assiniboin, that the Medicine Hair is the daughter of the big white chief there and that we work for him. The big white chief wishes to open a post here and sends his daughter because her medicine lets her see things we men can not see. He has told us to stay but a few days and to ask for warriors to go back with us as far as the Mouse. The Mandans must not know we were driven here by the Assiniboins. They would think the white woman's medicine was weak and that her father was a little chief if they knew the Assiniboins had made us run."
"Why can't we start back as soon as we get fresh horses?" I anxiously asked, my mind reverting to the incompetent Probos in charge of the post and to old Tabashaw bullying him for rum.
"And why must we travel by the way of the Mouse?" demanded Miss Dearness, referring to the long route to the confluence of the Mouse and the Qu'Appelle, thence down the Assiniboin to the Forks, where we would turn south up the Red.
"We must stay and look about, as if looking for a good place for a post," Flat Mouth patiently explained. Then to the girl—"We must come from Fort Assiniboin to show why we are here. We must go back the same way to make our talk sound straight. Even if we could pick our trail we must return by way of the Mouse and the Assiniboin. It is the regular path and safer."
I told Miss Dearness the chief was right and that a few days wouldn't make much difference, that we ought to be thankful at having escaped the Sioux and the Assiniboins—this to cheer her up.
"Oh, we will go through with it," she wearily replied. "I was thinking of you and your affairs more than of mine. I have no trade to lose. Angus can watch the post till I get back, or my successor arrives."
With our story understood we started ahead, taking the semblance of a road which had been much travelled but never repaired. It was filled with mud and holes and eloquently revealed the ravages of the spring freshet. We followed this into the woods and continued through the growth for two miles. It was most abominable travelling. At last we were clear of it and were come to a riot of beans, squash, and corn sprouts, but so mixed with grass that I proclaimed it to be mighty poor gardening. I was disappointed, as I had heard much about the Mandans as agriculturists. Flat Mouth explained, however, that these budding growths were runaways and represented only what the wind had stolen and sown broadcast. The tribe's gardens were farther on.
"Here is the village!" warned the girl.
She checked her mount and stared wonderingly and, with a little shudder, exclaimed:
"It's like a village of the dead. Where are the Indians?"
Flat Mouth twisted uneasily in his saddle and whispered:
"It is a village of the dead—a village they left when I was here last. The gardens would not grow. After so many years the ground refuses to care for the seed; then they move. When they left this place they used it for their dead."
We pressed ahead a bit and came in full view of the gruesome exhibit. The girl quailed for a moment, then held up her head and gazed about steadily. Everywhere were platforms some ten feet in height, and on these were laid the dead. The shrouds were of dressed leather, some in very excellent condition and fit for trade; but for the most part the coverings had succumbed to the weather and had fallen apart, allowing the bones to show. Some of the platforms had fallen to the ground and no attempt had been made to replace them or their grim burdens. We quickened our pace and soon were beyond the forbidding spot.
"Remember our talk!" warned the Pillager, kicking his horse into a gallop and riding ahead.
Off at one side and at a distance was an Indian with a gun. Around him were women and children working. These were the gardeners and they were planting and hoeing under an armed guard. This was impressive proof of their daily danger. Even at the very outskirts of their villages they did not dare to move about without a sentinel. Just as the Red River of the North always contained the menace of the Sioux, so did the stretch of woods hold for Mandan and Minnetaree a hidden danger.
At the Pillager's gesture the girl and I halted while he rode to the man with the gun. I saw the fellow nervously cock his piece, then stand keenly at attention while Flat Mouth, with both hands above his head, talked to him. Suddenly the gun was lowered, and the guard was shaking hands warmly with our companion.
"He recognizes him," murmured the girl.
The two conversed for several minutes, then came to us. Flat Mouth announced it was all right, that we were to proceed and find quarters at the village a short distance ahead. The guard smiled broadly and shook hands with me, but seemed to stand in awe of Miss Dearness. Later I learned the Pillager had filled him with tales concerning the wonderful medicine she possessed and her powers as a magician. Then the guard looked at my pony and at the chief's and said something we could not understand.
"He asks where our presents are," translated the Pillager.
He might well be puzzled, for beyond the white robes snugly wrapped in my blanket we had no possessions. No voluntary visitor to the villages would fail to bring a pack-animal or two loaded with gifts.
Before I could scare up an answer the girl was haughtily saying in Chippewa:
"Tell him the big white chief does not send gifts by his friends. He has slaves to bring them. They will come later. He will decide how much to send after he hears how we have been treated."
Flat Mouth's eyes twinkled as he listened, but his bearing was stern and haughty as he translated her words to the guard.
The guard next informed us that an H. B. man was living in the village across the river, but was now on the headwaters of the Missouri looking for trade in spring beaver.
The man returned to his charge, and we rode on. All I could think of on first glimpsing the round domes of the Mandan houses was of a colony of gigantic beavers. These huts were very large, some being ninety feet in diameter and so solidly built that fifty men could lounge on their tops at a time. The door of each was of rawhide, stretched over willow, and was nearly six feet square. A broad porch led up to this. Near each porch was a platform, a score of feet long, half as wide and eight or nine feet high. On these platforms they stored their corn to dry in the fall, also their meat, but now these were being used for driftwood.
Flat Mouth told us the village depended entirely for its supply of fuel on what the river brought down each spring. From my view of the swollen stream and its innumerable trees I could see the toll must be enormous. The reason why we had not seen more Indians in travelling to the village was that the able-bodied were busy swimming in the icy current and bringing the drift ashore, while their people watched and encouraged them. Besides the driftwood they brought drowned buffalo ashore in large numbers, and these were already giving off the stench of decay. My Chippewas would salvage the dead brutes when the ice went out, when the meat was firm and fresh, but the Mandans and the Minnetarees, the Pillager assured me, preferred the tainted to the fresh.
What men I saw on shore were stout and strongly built and wore their hair trailing at their heels and even sweeping the ground. As they daubed this daily with red and white earth the effect was grotesque. The same cough which was troubling our Indians seemed to be common with them.
As we entered the village we were discovered and quickly surrounded. They greeted us cordially, shaking hands and seemingly much pleased at our coming. Some recognized Flat Mouth and hailed him as a friend. Then they commenced asking where we had left our packs. As he had explained to the armed guard, so now did the Pillager explain to the tribe that while we represented the greatest traders of the North we had brought no goods with us either for trade or for gifts. Their faces fell.
The chief continued to explain how our errand was to investigate the chances of trade. Of course he described Miss Dearness as being a medicine-woman and the daughter of the big white chief at the head of the fort on the Assiniboin. It was grimly amusing that I should pose as an engagé instead of bourgeois, that she, of the opposition, should masquerade as my superior.
The interest Miss Dearness aroused was accumulative, and it was plain she created a tremendous impression. One young buck standing close to her pony reached up a hand to feel the texture of her fiery hair. As quick as loup-cervier her hand rose, and the handle of her leather whip landed on his wrist, causing him to spring back in dismay. I think it was the blazing fire of her blue eyes, rather than any physical hurt from the blow, that startled the fellow.
Flat Mouth took occasion to warn that the hair was medicine and that the white woman had saved the young man's life by preventing his touching it. After that incident the circle widened. In turn the Indians informed us that the Sioux had been very troublesome ever since the snow melted, and that since Le Borgne (The Blind), the great war chief of the Minnetarees on the Knife a few miles above, had gone out with a hunting party, the Mandans had kept their huts barricaded every night. On his return an alliance was to be formed with the Cheyennes and aggressive measures taken to teach the enemy a lasting lesson.
Flat Mouth, further to increase our prestige and make them forget we came without gifts, now stated that the good-will of the white woman was worth a war-party and that her anger was equal to a blast of lightning.
Firmly believing as he did that the girl possessed powers of magic, he did not hesitate to draw a long bow, and I was fearing that she might be requested to bolster up her reputation by some little display, when a newcomer distracted the attention. This was none less than Poscopsahe, or Black Cat, the chief of the village. We were presented to him and he was duly impressed by the girl and assured her that the big white chief would do well to send traders there and to the Minnetaree villages above, but especially to his village of the Mandans. This jealousy, when it came to acquiring the white man's goods in trade, was very keen among the villages, although they would unite readily and solidly enough in opposing their ancient enemies.
Through the Pillager, the girl calmly replied that she had heard the Mandans had a good trade in robes and buffalo tongues and a fair trade in beaver; that she would look the villages over for a day or so and then report back to Fort Assiniboin.
With these ceremonies out of the way we were shown to a hut reserved for visitors. I took my pack of white robes inside and turned the horses over to a young man. One of the chief's wives followed us to the hut with a huge dish of boiled corn and beans, a tasteless mess, and another of dried meat. The latter was impossible because of the Mandans' preference for tainted to fresh meat, so on the whole we made a sorry meal of it.
Despite our explanation that we had no goods to trade, nor gifts to bestow, the men, women, and children crowded about our hut, eager for us to open our packs. The fact that they had seen all our possessions, namely my bundle of robes, did not spoil their imagination. White people always had gifts, always wanted to trade. They believed that in some mysterious manner we would produce articles of the white man's making which they were so eager to secure. It was with the greatest difficulty that Flat Mouth persuaded them to believe we had nothing to trade, and their attitude was sullen when they finally withdrew.
After they left us in peace the Pillager advised that we take up different quarters, urging that by doing so we would create a better impression. So we decided that Miss Dearness should remain in the guest hut with the chief's wife as attendant, while the Pillager and I found shelter elsewhere. Leaving her with the Indian woman, we went out to look the village over. The Mandans, being a settled people, had no need for dogs, so this nuisance was not in evidence. The children, too, were quite decently mannered, although they would have stolen the clothes off my back had I given them a chance. The population of this and the village across the river was about two thousand. Flat Mouth said. I suggested we cross over and visit the second village. Flat Mouth called out to some young men, and, on my giving them a few inches of tobacco, they readily agreed to set us across.
Proceeding to the river, I had my first sight of a bull-boat, as their curious skin canoes are called. They were much different from the skin canoes we used on the Red River, being circular in shape and formed of raw buffalo hides stretched over a frame of willow. The craft had the appearance of being very frail and not a bit suitable for navigating the swollen and muddy waters of the Missouri, yet each was capable of carrying eight hundred pounds or more.
One man did the paddling, and his paddle was a five-foot pole with a strip of board lashed across the end. With his first stroke the boat turned nearly around, but he quickly reversed us with a stroke on the other side. First one was looking upstream at the mass of floating trees and dead buffalo, then downstream. It made me dizzy, yet our man was an expert, for we drifted less than a quarter of a mile, whereas the average boatman would have drifted a full mile.
The news of our arrival in the first Mandan village had spread across the river, and on landing we were met by a crowd of natives, headed by Big Man, a Cheyenne prisoner and now adopted into the tribe—a man of prominence. He shook us warmly by the hand and anxiously asked why we had left all our packs in Black Cat's village. The tedious explanation was given by Flat Mouth and the interest of the assemblage flattened out, and many turned away to resume the work of towing trees and dead buffalo ashore.
Through the Pillager I learned from Big Man that the Minnetaree village was much excited over the arrival of six Cheyennes seeking a peace treaty. Messengers had been sent for Le Borgne to bring him back from the hunt. Black days were waiting for the Sioux, once the treaty was perfected. We paraded the village, finding it a duplicate of the one across the river. We were invited into several huts to eat, but always found the meat abominable. On the outskirts of the village women with hoes made from buffalo shoulder-blades were working in their gardens, with armed men stationed at intervals. Their danger was imminent, much like that which surrounds some of the smaller wood-folk who live under stumps, sporting and raising their little families while death stalks them day and night.
The Pillager mumbled to me—
"We must go back now."
I had known him long enough to realize that he was disturbed at something. Thanking Big Man and telling him he should have presents when our traders arrived, we returned to the river and were ferried across.
"Something makes my brother sad," I remarked in Chippewa after we had stepped ashore.
"I was glad when I heard that the Blind was away on a buffalo hunt. My heart is heavy now, for they send to bring him home to meet the Cheyennes."
"You believed we should find him here before we arrived," I reminded.
"I knew and hoped for the best. When we came and found him gone my heart sang. I believed we should get away before he returned. Now to find he will come back, makes me sorry."
"The Blind does not like white men?"
"He likes white men," was the laconic response.
"Then why feel sad to know he is coming back?"
"He likes women. He has never seen such a woman as Medicine Hair. He is a mighty war chief. His word is law in both Minnetaree and Mandan villages. When we fought the Sioux and the Assiniboins I thought only of escaping to a place where we would not be killed. I knew we would not be harmed in these villages. Now I have had time to think. What The Blind wants he takes."
The danger must be pressing when an Indian would be troubled over the fate of a white woman. His words reduced my complacency to ashes. I could only say—
"We must start before he comes back."
"They will think our coming is a trick if we go away too quickly," he warned. "I will talk with the Mandans and ask if they have seen any signs of Assiniboins or Sioux to the north. We must visit the villages, but in one or two sleeps we might start for the Mouse. Once we reach Fort Assiniboin the Medicine Hair will be safe."
"But Le Borgne would be very blind to make the whites angry by taking one of their women," I protested.
Flat Mouth smiled in grim pity at my ignorance.
"You do not know The Blind," he murmured. "He takes what he wants. No chief is as powerful as he. When I was here before, he took a woman from a Mandan chief who went with his war-club to bring her back. They buried his war-club with him. He likes white men. He will treat you better than his warriors, but he doesn't let anything stand between him and the thing he wants."
From the end of the village rose the girl's wonderful voice, singing her quaint song, in which one heard the rush of the river and the sighing of the wind, a voice of sadness and pathos, yet coloured with a rare beauty. For the first time I realized there were no Indians hanging about us begging for tobacco and gifts. We walked to the guest-hut and found the entire village grouped about it. Black Cat was seated on a robe, before the entrance, smoking his Missouri tobacco—villainous stuff—and wondering at the medicine of her voice.
"When she sings her medicine song I see the leaves turn yellow and drop, and I feel the first of the snow. I hear the ice breaking up and smell the first grass," said Black Cat as we stood beside him.
"She calls the voices from rivers and sends them back when she is tired of them," Flat Mouth boasted. "She is very strong medicine. It is her hair. The Chippewas are afraid of her."
"The Chippewas are old women," snorted Black Cat.
Flat Mouth's visage grew very wicked. From inside the robe he was wearing Mandan-fashion he pulled forth a grisly string of Sioux scalps, shook them in Black Cat's face and hoarsely taunted:
"I am a Chippewa. I do not hide in a village when the Sioux of the Plains come near. I go out and kill them. Have the Mandans any old women who take scalps like these?"
It was the master-stroke for putting the beggars in their proper place. The Cat was unable to speak for a full minute. His eyes glowed and gloated over the trophies. He sprang to his feet and loudly proclaimed:
"My Chippewa brother is a very brave man. I will adopt him as a son. He shall have a new war name. He shall have many wives. He shall carry the pipe for us against our enemies."
I feared Flat Mouth would indulge in more boasting and scornfully flout the chief's offer, but his finesse was sharpened because of the girl's peril. He replied—
"After I have taken Medicine Hair back to her father."
This gave the Cat great pleasure. He pictured himself basking in the glory of his new son, the recipient of homage, the possessor of many scalps. He loudly announced he would give a feast for the mighty Chippewa and forthwith directed his wives to prepare an abundance of stinking meat, corn, and beans. The Indians scattered in all directions to make ready for the festival. Black Cat hurried off to see his commands were obeyed, and, with a glance at me, the Pillager walked beside him.
I remained before the hut. The door swung open a crack, then wide open, and Miss Dearness confronted me, her eyes searching mine anxiously.
"When can we start from this place?" she whispered.
"Very soon—in a few days."
"A few days!" she faintly exclaimed. "Something tells me we must start at once."
"The Pillager would say it is your medicine," I bantered.
"It is instinct. It has never failed me since I came to the Indian country. Let us start to-night!"
"But that would invite danger. We must make a pretence of looking the villages over for trade purposes," I protested. "If there is any vital, any immediate danger, of course we will start at once and fight for it. Now tell me just what has happened."
"Nothing has happened," she slowly replied, her eyes staring into mine and yet not beholding me. "But I'm afraid—I am horribly afraid—different from anything I ever felt in my life—I'm never afraid of death." With this she closed the door, leaving me standing there gaping.