VIII
_"THE SIOUX! THE SIOUX!"_
"What river is this, Dorion?" Captain Lewis had thrown open hisinfantry uniform to catch the cooling gust down a silver rift in theshore.
"_Petite Riviere des Sioux._ Go to Des Moines country. Pass tro teLake of te Spirit, full of islands. Lead to Dog Plain, Prairie duChien, four days from te Omaha country. Des Sioux--"
Dorion drew his forefinger across his throat and lapsed into silence.They were his people, he would not traduce them. But his listenersunderstood,--the Sioux were "cut-throats," this was their name amongthe tribes.
The voyageurs trembled, "_Bon Dieu! le Sioux sauvage_, he keel devoyageur an' steal deir hair!"
The Sioux, the terrible Sioux, were dog Indians, ever on the move,raiding back and forth, restless and unsleeping. Almost to Athabascatheir _travoises_ kicked up the summer dust, their dog trains draggedacross the plains of Manitoba. On the Saskatchewan they pitched theirleather tents and chased the buffalo; around Lake Winnipeg theyscalped the Chippeways. At the Falls of St. Anthony they spread theirfishing nets, and at Niagara Falls the old French Jesuits found them.
Now they were stealing horses. For horses, down the Mississippi theymurdered the Illinois. For horses, the Mandan on the upper Missouriheard and trembled. "The Sioux! the Sioux!" The Ponca paled in his mudhut on the Niobrara, the Omaha retreated up the Platte, the Cheyennehid in the cedar-curtained recesses of the Black Hills.
More puissant than the Six Nations of the Iroquois, the SiouxConfederacy dominated from the Red River of the North to the Red Riverof Texas. Wilder than the Comanches they rode, more cunning in theftthan the Crows, more bloodthirsty than the Blackfeet. On the red man'striple plea for war,--horses, scalps, and wives,--the Sioux werepirates of the streams and despots of the prairie.
Mettlesome with the bow, fiery in battle, strong, brave, wild, kingsof the hills and monarchs of the trails, they ruled the earth insplendid savagery. The buffalo was theirs, the beaver and the deer,and woe betide the rival that poached on their preserves. Did the poorShoshone venture beyond the Rockies, he was flayed and burned alive.No lake, no stream, no river between the Mississippi and the Rockiesremained unstained by their red hatchet.
And what a chapter when the traders came! Unwritten yet are those daysof fierce and constant battle.
Even Dorion himself dreaded the daring freebooters into whose tribe hehad married. His own offspring partook of the wild fierce spirit oftheir people. Like eaglets or young panthers, they clutched at himwith claws and talons,--with difficulty the little Frenchman held themback as the lion-tamer holds the whelps.
Of Dorion's possessions the Sioux took what they pleased. For theprivilege of trading he smiled and gave them all, then in generosityhe was heaped with skins. Dorion knew the Sioux, knew their best andworst. Somewhere in this Sioux country his faithful spouse waswaiting; he was looking for her now,--a model squaw, a tireless slavewho dug his roots and made his garments, brought his wood and water,and, neglected, bore his children.
"Pilicans! pilicans!"
It was the voice of Patrick Gass, beyond the Little Sioux. A low sandisland was covered with huge, white, web-footed beauties fishing inthe chocolate Missouri.
When the scrimmage was over two handsome birds lay in the bateau, one,the queen of the flock, brought down by Lewis himself. She was asplendid specimen, six feet from tip to tip, pure white with a tingeof rose, and an enormous pouch full of fish under her bill.
"Out with the fish. Let us measure that pouch."
Lewis's enthusiasm was contagious. All hands gathered while he pouredin water, five gallons.
"The average capacity is but two," said Captain Clark. "We mustpreserve this trophy."
To-day that beautiful bird, of strong maternal instincts, is theemblem of the State of Louisiana.
Again Lewis put the question, "What stream, Dorion?"
"Te Great Sioux! Two hundret mile to te Sioux Fall, an' beyont--almostto St. Peters."
A smile relaxed old Dorion's leathern face,--
"Below te Fall, a creek from te cliffs of red rock. All Indian get tepeace-pipe. No battle dere, no war."
Of the famous red pipestone quarry old Dorion spoke, the beautifulvariegated rock out of which resplendent Dakota cities should be builtin the future.
"Te rock ees soft, cut it wit te knife, then hard and shining."
All tribes, even those at war, could claim asylum at the redpipestone. The Sioux came, and the Pawnee, to camp on its banks andfashion their calumets. The soft clay pipes, hardened into things ofbeauty, were traded from tribe to tribe, emblems and signals of peace.Captain Lewis himself had one, bought in St. Louis, brought down fromthat quarry by some enterprising French trader.
"Buffalo! buffalo! buffalo!" A grand shout arose at sight of thesurging herds. "Plaintee boofalo now," said the voyageurs. Upon theled horses along shore, Clark and Joseph Fields dashed away for afirst shot.
Again rejoicing cooks went hunting up the kettles, and the wholeexpedition paused a day for a grand hunt.
"Te Yankton Sioux!" joyfully announced old Dorion, as they neared thefamiliar chalk bluffs of "des riviere Jaques, tat go almost to te RedRiviere of te Winnipeg." All over these streams old Dorion had trappedthe beaver.
With Sergeant Pryor and another, Dorion set out for the Indian camp.The Yankton Sioux saw the white men approaching and ran with robes tocarry them in state to camp.
"No," answered the Sergeant, "we are not the commanders. They are atthe boats."
Dorion led the way to his wigwam. His polite old squaw immediatelyspread a bearskin for them to sit on. Another woman killed a dog, cutit up, and boiled it and gave it to them to eat, a token offriendship.
Forty clean and well-kept lodges were in this Yankton village, ofdressed buffalo and elk skin, painted red and white and very handsome.And each lodge had a cooking apartment attached.
Under the Calumet bluffs the flag was flying when the Yankton Siouxcame down in state and crossed the river to the council. The YanktonSioux were reputed to be the best of their nation, and brave as any,with their necklaces of bear's claws, paints, and feathers. They werekingly savages, dignified and solemn, with heads shaved to the eagleplume, and arrayed in robes wrought with porcupine quills.
With Dorion as interpreter Captain Lewis delivered the usual speech,and presented flags, medals, and a chief's dress, a richly laced coat,cocked hat, and red feather. The ceremonious Indians withdrew toconsider a suitable answer.
The next morning again the chiefs assembled, solemnly seated in a rowwith enormous peace-pipes of red stone and stems a yard long, allpointing toward the seats intended for Lewis and Clark.
But the great Indian diplomats did not hasten.
"Ha!"
Even the stoic Sioux could not refrain from an ejaculation ofadmiration as they half rose, pipe in hand, to gaze in awe and wonderas the white chiefs entered the council. No such traders ever came upthe Missouri, no such splendid apparitions as the Red Head Chief andhis brother, pink and white as the roses on the river Jaques.
Captain Lewis habitually wore his sunny hair in a queue; to-day it wasloosened into a waving cataract, and Clark, slipping off his eelskinbag, let his red locks fall, a strange and wondrous symbol. No suchred and gold had ever been seen in the Indian country. With paleberries they stained their porcupine quills, with ochre painted thebuffalo lodges, with vermilion rouged their faces, but none like thesegrowing on the heads of men!
Seating themselves with all due dignity, Lewis and Clark scarce liftedtheir eyes from the ground as the Grand Chief, Weucha, extended hisdecorated pipe in silence. A full hour elapsed before Weucha, slippinghis robe to give full play to his arm, arose before them.
"I see before me my Great Father's two sons. We very poor. We nopowder, ball, knives. Our women and children at the village noclothes. I wish my brothers would give something to those poor people.
"I went to the English, they gave me a medal and clothes. I went tothe Spanish, they gave m
e a medal. Now you give me a medal andclothes. Still we are poor. I wish you would give something for oursquaws."
Then other chiefs spoke. "Very poor. Have pity on us. Send us traders.We want powder and ball."
Deadly as were the Sioux arrows,--one twang of their bowstring couldpierce a buffalo,--yet a better weapon had crossed their vision.Firearms, powder, ball, fabulous prices, these problems changed Indianhistory.
Congratulating themselves on this favourable encounter with thedreaded Sioux, and promising everything, Lewis and Clark went forwardwith renewed courage.
More and more buffaloes dotted the hills, and herds of antelope,strange and new to science.
"I must have an antelope," said Lewis.
At that moment he saw seven on a hilltop. Creeping carefully near,they scented him on the wind. The wild beauties were gone, and asimilar flock of seven appeared on a neighbouring height.
"Can they have spanned the ravine in this brief time?"
He looked, and lo! on a third height and then a fourth they skimmedthe hills like cloud shadows, or winged griffins of the fabled time,half quadruped and half bird.
"A cur'ous lill animal here, Captain," said one of the hunters,handing him a limp little body. Its head was like a squirrel's. Lewisstroked the long fine hair.
"What is it?"
Cruzatte, the bowman, paddle in hand, leaned over, peering with hisone near-sighted but intelligent eye.
"Ha! ha! ha! _le petit chien!_" he laughed. "Live in te hole een teprairie. Leetle dog. Bark, yelp, yelp, yelp, like te squirrel. Allover te countree, whole towns," spreading his brown handsexpressively.
After this lucid explanation the Captains, Lewis and Clark, set outfor a prairie-dog town. A few yelps, heels in air, the town wasdeserted save for the tiny mounds that told where each had hidden.
"Let us drown one out."
Forthwith, every man came puffing up with big brass kettles full ofwater.
"Five barrels," says Clark in his journal, "were poured into the holesbut not a dog came out," and Patrick Gass adds, "Though they worked atthe business until night they only caught one of them."
More and more the hills were thronged with buffalo. Even York, CaptainClark's black servant, went out and killed two at one ride.
On the top of a high bluff the men had found the skeleton of a hugefish, forty-five feet long and petrified.
"Blow, ye winds of morning, Blow, blow, blow--"
George Shannon, the boy of the expedition, had enlivened many asunrise with his jolly, rollicking Irish songs. But Shannon was lost!On the 28th of August he had gone out to look for the strayed horses.It was now September. Captain Lewis was wild, for at his requestGeorge had joined the expedition and at his order he had gone afterthe horses. Hunters had sought in every direction, guns had been firedand the blunderbuss, and smokes had been kindled from point to point.
"Shannon!" A great shout went up as the forlorn boy, emaciated andweary, came dragging into camp on the 11th of September.
It was a short story, soon told. He found the horses and followed bymistake the trail of recent Indians, which he mistook for footprintsof the party. For days he followed the trail, exhausted his bullets,and lived on wild grapes and a rabbit he killed with a stick. But heheard no guns, saw no smoke.
In despair at last he came down to the river, to discover that allthis time he had been travelling ahead of the boats! The fattedbuffalo-calf was killed and great was the rejoicing, and at daylightnext morning, Shannon's
"Blow, ye winds of morning, Blow, blow, blow,"
rang again joyously over the Missouri.
"Danger! Quick! The bank is caving!"
At one o'clock in the night the guard gave the startled cry. Barelywas there time to loosen the boats and push into midstream before thewhole escarpment dropped like an avalanche over the recent anchorage.Thus in one instant might have been blotted out the entire expedition,to remain for all time a mystery and conjecture.
On the evening of September 24 the cooks and a guard went ashore toget supper at the mouth of the river Teton, the present site ofPierre, South Dakota. Five Indians, who had followed for some time,slept with the guard on shore.
Early next morning sixty Indians came down from a Sioux camp and theCaptains prepared for a council. Under the flag and an awning, attwelve o'clock the company paraded under arms. Dorion had remainedbehind at the Yankton village, so with difficulty, by the aid ofDrouillard and much sign language, a brief speech was delivered. BlackBuffalo, head chief, was decorated with a medal, flag, laced coat,cocked hat, and red feather, nor were the rest forgotten with smallergifts, medals, and tobacco.
The Captains would have gone on, but, "No! No!" insisted BlackBuffalo, seizing the cable of Clark's departing pirogue.
Finally Clark and several of the men rowed them ashore. But no soonerhad they landed than one seized the cable and held the boat fast.Another flung his arms around the mast and stood immovable.
"Release me," demanded Clark, reddening at evidence of so muchtreachery.
Black Buffalo advanced to seize Clark. The Captain drew his sword. Atthis motion Captain Lewis, watching from the bateau, instantlyprepared for action.
The Indians had drawn their arrows and were bending their great bows,when the black mouth of the blunderbuss wheeled toward them.
At this Black Buffalo ordered his men to desist, and they sullenlyfell away, but never was forgotten that time when the Teton Siouxattempted to carry off Captain Clark.
"We wished to see the boat more," said the Indians, by way of excuse."We wished to show it to our wives and children."
To conciliate and to depart without irritation, Captain Clark offeredhis hand. The chiefs refused to take it. Turning, Clark stepped intothe boat and shoved off. Immediately three warriors waded in afterhim, and he brought them on board. That night the whole expeditionslept under arms, with the Indians as guests. At daylight crowds ofIndian men, women, and children waited on shore in the most friendlymanner.
Ten well-dressed young men took Lewis and Clark up on a highlydecorated robe and carried them up to the council tent. Dressed likedandies, seventy Indians sat in this roomy council hall, the tailfeathers of the golden eagle scarce quivering in their topknots.Impressively in the centre on two forked sticks lay the longpeace-pipe above a bed of swan's down.
Outside, the redmen were roasting a barbecue. All day they sat andsmoked, and ate of buffalo beef and pemmican. After sunset a hugecouncil fire illuminated the interior of the great lodge, and thedance began. Wild Indian girls came shuffling with the reeking scalpsof Omahas, from a recent raid. Outside twenty-five Omaha womenprisoners and their children moaned in the chill of an icy autumnnight. It was their trail that Shannon had followed for sixteen days.
About midnight, fatigued by the constant strain of watchful anxiety,the Captains returned to the boats. But not yet were they safely away."To oars! to oars! the cable's parted!"
The Indians heard the call.
"The Omahas! the Omahas!" rang the cry up from the Teton camp, that onevery wind anticipated the whoop of retaliating Omahas in search oftheir stolen wives and children.
Then followed pandemonium of rushing Indians and frightened calls. Allnight, with strained eyes, every man held his rifle ready as they layunanchored on the water.
At daylight the wily Indians held the ropes and still detained theboats. Resort to force seemed inevitable. Flinging a carat of tobacco,"Black Buffalo," said Lewis, "you say you are a great chief. Prove itby handing me that rope." Flattered, Black Buffalo gave the rope, andthankfully the boats pulled out with no more desire to cultivate theSioux.