<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XVI </h2>
<h3> THE TRAPPERS </h3>
<p>In speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten two bold adventurers
of another race, the trappers Rouleau and Saraphin. These men were bent on
a most hazardous enterprise. A day's journey to the westward was the
country over which the Arapahoes are accustomed to range, and for which
the two trappers were on the point of setting out. These Arapahoes, of
whom Shaw and I afterward fell in with a large village, are ferocious
barbarians, of a most brutal and wolfish aspect, and of late they had
declared themselves enemies to the whites, and threatened death to the
first who should venture within their territory. The occasion of the
declaration was as follows:</p>
<p>In the previous spring, 1845, Colonel Kearny left Fort Leavenworth with
several companies of dragoons, and marching with extraordinary celerity
reached Fort Laramie, whence he passed along the foot of the mountains to
Bent's Fort and then, turning eastward again, returned to the point from
whence he set out. While at Fort Larantie, he sent a part of his command
as far westward as Sweetwater, while he himself remained at the fort, and
dispatched messages to the surrounding Indians to meet him there in
council. Then for the first time the tribes of that vicinity saw the white
warriors, and, as might have been expected, they were lost in astonishment
at their regular order, their gay attire, the completeness of their
martial equipment, and the great size and power of their horses. Among the
rest, the Arapahoes came in considerable numbers to the fort. They had
lately committed numerous acts of outrage, and Colonel Kearny threatened
that if they killed any more white men he would turn loose his dragoons
upon them, and annihilate their whole nation. In the evening, to add
effect to his speech, he ordered a howitzer to be fired and a rocket to be
thrown up. Many of the Arapahoes fell prostrate on the ground, while
others ran screaming with amazement and terror. On the following day they
withdrew to their mountains, confounded with awe at the appearance of the
dragoons, at their big gun which went off twice at one shot, and the fiery
messenger which they had sent up to the Great Spirit. For many months they
remained quiet, and did no further mischief. At length, just before we
came into the country, one of them, by an act of the basest treachery,
killed two white men, Boot and May, who were trapping among the mountains.
For this act it was impossible to discover a motive. It seemed to spring
from one of those inexplicable impulses which often actuate Indians and
appear no better than the mere outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was
the murder committed than the whole tribe were in extreme consternation.
They expected every day that the avenging dragoons would arrive, little
thinking that a desert of nine hundred miles in extent lay between the
latter and their mountain fastnesses. A large deputation of them came to
Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable present of horses, in compensation for
the lives of the murdered men. These Bordeaux refused to accept. They then
asked him if he would be satisfied with their delivering up the murderer
himself; but he declined this offer also. The Arapahoes went back more
terrified than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no dragoons appeared. A
result followed which all those best acquainted with Indians had
predicted. They conceived that fear had prevented Bordeaux from accepting
their gifts, and that they had nothing to apprehend from the vengeance of
the whites. From terror they rose to the height of insolence and
presumption. They called the white men cowards and old women; and a
friendly Dakota came to Fort Laramie and reported that they were
determined to kill the first of the white dogs whom they could lay hands
on.</p>
<p>Had a military officer, intrusted with suitable powers, been stationed at
Fort Laramie, and having accepted the offer of the Arapahoes to deliver up
the murderer, had ordered him to be immediately led out and shot, in
presence of his tribe, they would have been awed into tranquillity, and
much danger and calamity averted; but now the neighborhood of the
Medicine-Bow Mountain and the region beyond it was a scene of extreme
peril. Old Mene-Seela, a true friend of the whites, and many other of the
Indians gathered about the two trappers, and vainly endeavored to turn
them from their purpose; but Rouleau and Saraphin only laughed at the
danger. On the morning preceding that on which they were to leave the
camp, we could all discern faint white columns of smoke rising against the
dark base of the Medicine-Bow. Scouts were out immediately, and reported
that these proceeded from an Arapahoe camp, abandoned only a few hours
before. Still the two trappers continued their preparations for departure.</p>
<p>Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and sinister
countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn other blood than that of
buffalo or even Indians. Rouleau had a broad ruddy face marked with as few
traces of thought or care as a child's. His figure was remarkably square
and strong, but the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, and his
horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by which he had been
severely injured in the chest. But nothing could check his inveterate
propensity for laughter and gayety. He went all day rolling about the camp
on his stumps of feet, talking and singing and frolicking with the Indian
women, as they were engaged at their work. In fact Rouleau had an unlucky
partiality for squaws. He always had one whom he must needs bedizen with
beads, ribbons, and all the finery of an Indian wardrobe; and though he
was of course obliged to leave her behind him during his expeditions, yet
this hazardous necessity did not at all trouble him, for his disposition
was the very reverse of jealous. If at any time he had not lavished the
whole of the precarious profits of his vocation upon his dark favorite, he
always devoted the rest to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not to be
had—and this was usually the case—strong coffee was
substituted. As the men of that region are by no means remarkable for
providence or self-restraint, whatever was set before them on these
occasions, however extravagant in price, or enormous in quantity, was sure
to be disposed of at one sitting. Like other trappers, Rouleau's life was
one of contrast and variety. It was only at certain seasons, and for a
limited time, that he was absent on his expeditions. For the rest of the
year he would be lounging about the fort, or encamped with his friends in
its vicinity, lazily hunting or enjoying all the luxury of inaction; but
when once in pursuit of beaver, he was involved in extreme privations and
desperate perils. When in the midst of his game and his enemies, hand and
foot, eye and ear, are incessantly active. Frequently he must content
himself with devouring his evening meal uncooked, lest the light of his
fire should attract the eyes of some wandering Indian; and sometimes
having made his rude repast, he must leave his fire still blazing, and
withdraw to a distance under cover of the darkness, that his disappointed
enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find his victim gone, and be unable
to trace his footsteps in the gloom. This is the life led by scores of men
in the Rocky Mountains and their vicinity. I once met a trapper whose
breast was marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, one of his
arms broken by a shot and one of his knees shattered; yet still, with the
undaunted mettle of New England, from which part of the country he had
come, he continued to follow his perilous occupation. To some of the
children of cities it may seem strange that men with no object in view
should continue to follow a life of such hardship and desperate adventure;
yet there is a mysterious, restless charm in the basilisk eye of danger,
and few men perhaps remain long in that wild region without learning to
love peril for its own sake, and to laugh carelessly in the face of death.</p>
<p>On the last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers were ready for
departure. When in the Black Hills they had caught seven beaver, and they
now left their skins in charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return.
Their strong, gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish bits and rude
Mexican saddles, to which wooden stirrups were attached, while a buffalo
robe was rolled up behind them, and a bundle of beaver traps slung at the
pommel. These, together with their rifles, their knives, their
powder-horns and bullet-pouches, flint and steel and a tincup, composed
their whole traveling equipment. They shook hands with us and rode away;
Saraphin with his grim countenance, like a surly bulldog's, was in
advance; but Rouleau, clambering gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's
sides, flourished his whip in the air, and trotted briskly over the
prairie, trolling forth a Canadian song at the top of his lungs. Reynal
looked after them with his face of brutal selfishness.</p>
<p>"Well," he said, "if they are killed, I shall have the beaver. They'll
fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, anyhow."</p>
<p>This was the last I saw of them.</p>
<p>We had been for five days in the hunting camp, and the meat, which all
this time had hung drying in the sun, was now fit for transportation.
Buffalo hides also had been procured in sufficient quantities for making
the next season's lodges; but it remained to provide the long slender
poles on which they were to be supported. These were only to be had among
the tall pine woods of the Black Hills, and in that direction therefore
our next move was to be made. It is worthy of notice that amid the general
abundance which during this time had prevailed in the camp there were no
instances of individual privation; for although the hide and the tongue of
the buffalo belong by exclusive right to the hunter who has killed it, yet
anyone else is equally entitled to help himself from the rest of the
carcass. Thus, the weak, the aged, and even the indolent come in for a
share of the spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would otherwise
perish from starvation, is sustained in profuse abundance.</p>
<p>On the 25th of July, late in the afternoon, the camp broke up, with the
usual tumult and confusion, and we were all moving once more, on horseback
and on foot, over the plains. We advanced, however, but a few miles. The
old men, who during the whole march had been stoutly striding along on
foot in front of the people, now seated themselves in a circle on the
ground, while all the families, erecting their lodges in the prescribed
order around them, formed the usual great circle of the camp; meanwhile
these village patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I threw my bridle to
Raymond, and sat down as usual along with them. There was none of that
reserve and apparent dignity which an Indian always assumes when in
council, or in the presence of white men whom he distrusts. The party, on
the contrary, was an extremely merry one; and as in a social circle of a
quite different character, "if there was not much wit, there was at least
a great deal of laughter."</p>
<p>When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and withdrew to the lodge of my
host. Here I was stooping, in the act of taking off my powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, when suddenly, and close at hand, pealing loud and shrill,
and in right good earnest, came the terrific yell of the war-whoop.
Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her youngest child, and ran out of the
lodge. I followed, and found the whole village in confusion, resounding
with cries and yells. The circle of old men in the center had vanished.
The warriors with glittering eyes came darting, their weapons in their
hands, out of the low opening of the lodges, and running with wild yells
toward the farther end of the village. Advancing a few rods in that
direction, I saw a crowd in furious agitation, while others ran up on
every side to add to the confusion. Just then I distinguished the voices
of Raymond and Reynal, shouting to me from a distance, and looking back, I
saw the latter with his rifle in his hand, standing on the farther bank of
a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the camp. He was calling
to Raymond and myself to come over and join him, and Raymond, with his
usual deliberate gait and stolid countenance, was already moving in that
direction.</p>
<p>This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to involve ourselves
in the fray; so I turned to go, but just then a pair of eyes, gleaming
like a snake's, and an aged familiar countenance was thrust from the
opening of a neighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of
fight, clutching his bow and arrows in one hand and his knife in the
other. At that instant he tripped and fell sprawling on his face, while
his weapons flew scattering away in every direction. The women with loud
screams were hurrying with their children in their arms to place them out
of danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent mischief, by carrying
away all the weapons they could lay hands on. On a rising ground close to
the camp stood a line of old women singing a medicine song to allay the
tumult. As I approached the side of the brook I heard gun-shots behind me,
and turning back, I saw that the crowd had separated into two lines of
naked warriors confronting each other at a respectful distance, and
yelling and jumping about to dodge the shot of their adversaries, while
they discharged bullets and arrows against each other. At the same time
certain sharp, humming sounds in the air over my head, like the flight of
beetles on a summer evening, warned me that the danger was not wholly
confined to the immediate scene of the fray. So wading through the brook,
I joined Reynal and Raymond, and we sat down on the grass, in the posture
of an armed neutrality, to watch the result.</p>
<p>Happily it may be for ourselves, though quite contrary to our expectation,
the disturbance was quelled almost as soon as it had commenced. When I
looked again, the combatants were once more mingled together in a mass.
Though yells sounded, occasionally from the throng, the firing had
entirely ceased, and I observed five or six persons moving busily about,
as if acting the part of peacemakers. One of the village heralds or criers
proclaimed in a loud voice something which my two companions were too much
engrossed in their own observations to translate for me. The crowd began
to disperse, though many a deep-set black eye still glittered with an
unnatural luster, as the warriors slowly withdrew to their lodges. This
fortunate suppression of the disturbance was owing to a few of the old
men, less pugnacious than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran in between the
combatants and aided by some of the "soldiers," or Indian police,
succeeded in effecting their object.</p>
<p>It seemed very strange to me that although many arrows and bullets were
discharged, no one was mortally hurt, and I could only account for this by
the fact that both the marksman and the object of his aim were leaping
about incessantly during the whole time. By far the greater part of the
villagers had joined in the fray, for although there were not more than a
dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least eight or ten shots fired.</p>
<p>In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. A large circle of
warriors were again seated in the center of the village, but this time I
did not venture to join them, because I could see that the pipe, contrary
to the usual order, was passing from the left hand to the right around the
circle, a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke" of reconciliation was going
forward, and that a white man would be an unwelcome intruder. When I again
entered the still agitated camp it was nearly dark, and mournful cries,
howls and wailings resounded from many female voices. Whether these had
any connection with the late disturbance, or were merely lamentations for
relatives slain in some former war expeditions, I could not distinctly
ascertain.</p>
<p>To inquire too closely into the cause of the quarrel was by no means
prudent, and it was not until some time after that I discovered what had
given rise to it. Among the Dakota there are many associations, or
fraternities, connected with the purposes of their superstitions, their
warfare, or their social life. There was one called "The Arrow-Breakers,"
now in a great measure disbanded and dispersed. In the village there were,
however, four men belonging to it, distinguished by the peculiar
arrangement of their hair, which rose in a high bristling mass above their
foreheads, adding greatly to their apparent height, and giving them a most
ferocious appearance. The principal among them was the Mad Wolf, a warrior
of remarkable size and strength, great courage, and the fierceness of a
demon. I had always looked upon him as the most dangerous man in the
village; and though he often invited me to feasts, I never entered his
lodge unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine horse belonging to
another Indian, who was called the Tall Bear; and anxious to get the
animal into his possession, he made the owner a present of another horse
nearly equal in value. According to the customs of the Dakota, the
acceptance of this gift involved a sort of obligation to make an equitable
return; and the Tall Bear well understood that the other had in view the
obtaining of his favorite buffalo horse. He however accepted the present
without a word of thanks, and having picketed the horse before his lodge,
he suffered day after day to pass without making the expected return. The
Mad Wolf grew impatient and angry; and at last, seeing that his bounty was
not likely to produce the desired return, he resolved to reclaim it. So
this evening, as soon as the village was encamped, he went to the lodge of
the Tall Bear, seized upon the horse that he had given him, and led him
away. At this the Tall Bear broke into one of those fits of sullen rage
not uncommon among the Indians. He ran up to the unfortunate horse, and
gave him three mortals stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad
Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held the arrow quivering
close to the breast of his adversary. The Tall Bear, as the Indians who
were near him said, stood with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the
assailant with the utmost calmness. Some of his friends and relatives,
seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. The remaining three
Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, came to the aid of their associate.
Many of their friends joined them, the war-cry was raised on a sudden, and
the tumult became general.</p>
<p>The "soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it down, are by far
the most important executive functionaries in an Indian village. The
office is one of considerable honor, being confided only to men of courage
and repute. They derive their authority from the old men and chief
warriors of the village, who elect them in councils occasionally convened
for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree of authority which no one
else in the village would dare to assume. While very few Ogallalla chiefs
could venture without instant jeopardy of their lives to strike or lay
hands upon the meanest of their people, the "soldiers" in the discharge of
their appropriate functions, have full license to make use of these and
similar acts of coercion.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />