Part 18 (1/2)

_Austin._ Do tell us all about it.

_Hunter._ It was a thoughtless and foolish affair, when I was young and rash; but I wished to be a spectator of all their customs. It was, as I said, one of those foolish undertakings into which the ardour of my disposition led me, and for which I was very near paying the price of my life. A council was held, wherein it was decided to send a strong war-party on foot to surprise a Blackfoot village. Every stratagem had been used to lull the enemy into security.

_Brian._ Ay; that is just like the Indians.

_Hunter._ The red pipe was sent through the tribe, for the warriors to smoke with it, much after the manner of the Sioux; the red post was struck, and the braves and attendants painted their faces. When the plan of attack was agreed on, every warrior looked to his weapons; neither bow nor arrow, war-club nor scalping-knife, was left unexamined. There was an earnestness in their preparation, as though they were all animated with one spirit.

It was some time after sundown, that we left the village at a quick pace. Runners were sent out in all directions, to give notice of an enemy. We hastened along a deep valley, rounded the base of a bluff, and entered the skirt of a forest, following each other in files beneath the shadowy branches. We then pa.s.sed through some deep gra.s.s, and stole silently along several defiles and ravines. The nearer we drew to the Blackfoot village, the more silently and stealthily we proceeded. Like the panther, creeping with noiseless feet on his prey, we stole along the intricate pathways of the prairie bottoms, the forest, the skirt of the river and the hills and bluffs. At last we made a halt, just as the moon emerged from behind a cloud.

_Austin._ Then there was terrible work, I dare say.

_Hunter._ It was past midnight, and the Blackfoot village was wrapped in slumber. The Crow warriors dispersed themselves to attack the village at the same instant from different quarters. The leader had on his full dress, his medicine bag, and his head-dress of war-eagle plumes. All was hushed in silence, nearly equal to that of the grave; when suddenly the shrill war-whistle of the Crow chief rung through the Blackfoot lodges, and the wild war-whoop burst at once from a hundred throats. The chief was in the thickest of the fight. There was no pity for youth or age; the war-club spared not, and the tomahawk was merciless. Yelling like fiends, the Crow warriors fled from hut to hut, from victim to victim. Neither women nor children were spared.

_Brian._ Dreadful! dreadful!

_Hunter._ Though taken thus by surprise, the Blackfoot braves, in a little time, began to collect together, clutching their weapons firmly, and rus.h.i.+ng on their enemies, determined to avenge their slaughtered friends. The panic into which they had been thrown subsided, and, like men accustomed to danger, they stood not only in self-defence, but attacked their foes with fury.

_Austin._ I wonder that every one in the Blackfoot village was not killed!

_Hunter._ In civilized life, this would very likely have been the case; but in a savage state, men from their childhood are trained up to peril. They may lie down to slumber on their couches of skins, but their weapons are near at hand; and though it be the midnight hour when an attack is made on them, and though, awakened by the confusion, they hear nothing but the war-cry of their enemy, they spring to their feet, seize their arms, and rush on to meet their foes. It was thus with the Blackfoot braves. Hand to hand, and foot to foot, they met their a.s.sailants; brave was opposed to brave; and the horrid clash of the war-club and the murderous death-grapple succeeded each other.

Even if I could describe the horrors of such a scene, it would not be right to do so. As I was gazing on the conflict, I suddenly received a blow that struck me bleeding to the ground. You may see the scar on my temple still. The confusion was at its height, or else my scalp would have been taken.

_Brian._ How did you get away?

_Hunter._ Stunned as I was, I recovered my senses before a retreat took place, and was just able to effect my escape. The Crows slaughtered many of their enemies; but the Blackfoot warriors and braves were at last too strong for them. Then was heard the shrill whistle that sounded a retreat. With a dozen scalps in their possession, the Crows sought the shelter of the forest, and afterwards regained their own village.

_Austin._ Are the Crow tribe or the Blackfoot tribe the strongest?

_Hunter._ The Crow Indians, as I told you, are taller and more elegant men than the Blackfeet; but the latter have broader chests and shoulders. The Blackfeet, some think, take their name from the circ.u.mstance of their wearing black, or very dark brown leggings and moca.s.sins. Whether, as a people, the Crows or the Blackfeet are the strongest, there is a diversity of opinion. The Blackfeet are almost always at war with the Crows.

_Austin._ What battling there must be among them!

_Hunter._ Their war-parties are very numerous, and their encampments are very large: and, whether seen in the day, in the midst of their lodges; or at night, wrapped in their robes, with their arms in their hands, ready to leap up if attacked by an enemy; they form a striking spectacle. Sometimes, in a night encampment, a false alarm takes place. A prowling bear, or a stray horse, is taken for a foe; and sometimes a real alarm is occasioned by spies crawling on their hands and knees up to their very encampment to ascertain their strength. On these occasions the shrill whistle is heard, every man springs up armed and rushes forth, ready to resist his a.s.sailing enemy. I have seen war-parties among the Crows and Blackfeet, the Mandans and Sioux, the Shawanees, Poncas, p.a.w.nees and Seminoles. But a Camanchee war-party, mounted on wild horses, with their s.h.i.+elds, bows and lances, which I once witnessed, was the most imposing spectacle of the kind I ever saw. The chief was mounted on a beautiful war-horse, wild as the winds, and yet he appeared to manage him with ease. He was in full dress, and seemed to have as much fire in his disposition as the chafed animal on which he rode. In his bridle-hand, he clutched his bow and several arrows; with his other hand, he wielded his long lance; while his quiver and s.h.i.+eld were slung at his back, and his rifle across his thigh.

_Austin._ I think I can see him. But what colour was his war-horse?

_Hunter._ Black as a raven; but the white foam lay in thick flakes on his neck and breast, for his rider at every few paces stuck the sharp rowels of his Spanish spurs into his sides. He had a long flowing mane and tail, and his full and fiery eyes seemed ready to start out of his head. The whole Camanchee band was ready to rush into any danger. At one time, they were flying over the prairie in single file; and at another, drawn up all abreast of each other. The Camanchees and the Osages used to have cruel battles one with another. The Mandans and the Riccarees, too, were relentless enemies.

_Brian._ And the Sacs and Foxes were great fighters, for Black Hawk was a famous fellow.

_Hunter._ Yes, he was. But I have never told you, I believe, how the medicine man, or mystery man, conducts himself when called unto a wounded warrior.

_Austin._ Not a word of it. Please to tell us every particular.

_Hunter._ In some cases cures are certainly performed; in others, the wounded get well of themselves: but, in most instances, the mystery man is a mere juggler.

_Basil._ Now we shall hear of the mystery man.

_Hunter._ The Crow war-party that I had joined brought away two of their wounded warriors when they retreated from the Blackfoot village, but there seemed to be no hope of saving their lives. However, a mystery man was called on to use his skill.