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Show 152 TilE CALIFORNIA AND OREGON TRAIL. the voice, replied to it, and our dandy friend, 'The Horse,' rode in among us, just returned from his mission to the village. He coolly picketed his mare, without saying a word, sat down by the fire and began to eat, but his imperturbable philosophy was too much for our patience. Where was the village ?-about fifty miles south of us; it was moving slowly and would not arrive in less than a week; and where was Henry's squaw? coming as fast as she could with Mahto-Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, but she would never reach us, for she was dying, and asking every moment for Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded and downcast; he said that if we were willing he would go in the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to accompany him. We saddled our horses at sunrise. vehemently against being left alone, with Reyn al protested nobody but the two Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were in the neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we left him, and coming to the mouth of Chugwater, separated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the bank of the stream, while [ made for the fort. Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortunate squaw, I will relate by way of episode what I saw and did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles distant, and I reached it in three hours; a shrivelled little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white Canadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord of hull's hide, a shaggy wild-horse, which he had lately caught. His sharp prominent features, and his little keen snake-like eyes, looked out from beneath the shadowy hood of the capote, which was drawn over his head exactly like the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His ,' I , THE WAR PARTIES. 153 face was extremely thin and like an old piece of leather, and his mouth spread frorn ear to ear. Extending his long wiry hand, he welcomed n1e with something more cordial than the ordinary cold salute of an Indian, for we were excellent friends. He had made an exchange of horses to our mutual advantage; and Paul, thinking himself well-treated, had declared every where that the w bite man had a good heart. He was a Dahcotah from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half-breed interpreter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in Irving's 'Astoria.' l-Ie said that he was going to Richard's tradinghouse to sell his horse to some emigrants, who were encamped there, and asked me to go with him. We forded the stream together, Paul dragging his wild charge behind him. As we passed over the sandy plains beyond, he grew quite communicative. Paul was a cosmopolitan in his way ; he had been to the settlements of the w bites, and visited in peace and war most of the tribes within the range of a thousand miles. He spoke a jargon of French and another of English, yet nevertheless he was a thorough Indian ; and as he told of the bloody deeus of his own people against their enemies, his little eye would glitter with a fierce lustre. I-Ie told how the Dahcotah exterminated a village of the I-Iohays on the Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and children; and how an overwhelming force of them cut off sixteen of the brave Delawares ' who fought like wolves to the last amid the throna of their ' 0 enemies. He told me also another story, which I did not b r · · e Ieve until I had heard It confirmed from so many independent sources that no room was left for doubt. I am tempted to introduce it here. Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckwith, a mongrel of |
