The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  These Indians lived after the manner of their race when removed from civilization, which, as a rule, has proved a greater curse than boon to them. Fortunately they knew nothing of the ruinous “fire water” that was to await the coming of professing Christians and the claimants of a higher culture and civilization. They spent their time mainly in hunting and fishing, sometimes engaging in raids upon other tribes, several of whose grounds lay to the north of the boundary line. When not thus employed they lolled about, like true lords of creation, smoking, drowsing or indifferently watching their squaws, who did all the tilling of the ground and gathering of the scant crops from the rich soil. The Blackfeet lived too far to the eastward to take any part in the salmon fishing which gave employment to so many of their race on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains. The warriors were finely formed, and were held in no little respect and fear by the neighboring red men, most of whom at some time or other had felt the weight of their prowess.

  The home for the expected visitors was erected at the extreme northern end of the village, and was separated by fully fifty yards from the next neighbor to the south. About a dozen saplings were planted in the ground so as to form a circle, perhaps fifteen feet in diameter and a little less in height. The tops were tied together, but loosely enough to leave an opening a foot or more across to serve as a chimney. Over the framework thus formed were stretched with no little skill a number of bison furs, with the furry side in. They were stitched together by means of deer sinews and pegged at the bottom, so as to shut out all draught. Thus all the interior walls were brown and shaggy and warm. On the outside of numerous tepees, cured and whitened by the storms, many of the aboriginal artists of the tribe had sketched grotesque figures of men, horses and wild animals.

  You will note that the temporary home of our friends was of the most primitive character, and yet all had seen such before and Deerfoot had spent many a day and night in similar ones in the East. At one side a loose bison robe could be lifted, thus serving as a door. When the weather was warm this fold was often fastened back to permit a partial ventilation of the lodge.

  In the middle of the space the fire was kindled, the smoke finding escape through the opening in the saplings at the crown of the structure. Despite the care with which the robes were joined together, enough air stole through the crevices to give the necessary draught for the chimney and furnish the occupants comparatively pure sustenance for their lungs.

  The bare ground was the only floor to these rude structures, but the blankets and furs served as so many rugs, and the dwellings, with the crackling fire in the center, could be made comfortable even in the depth of the rigorous winters.

  At that early day, more firearms than would be supposed were found among the Indian tribes of the Northwest, though naturally the old-fashioned bow and arrow were the main weapon. The flintlocks were gotten by barter with tribes on the other side of the Rockies, who in turn managed to buy them from the few ships that were beginning to trade with the savages about the lower waters of the Columbia. These guns were comparatively few in number, and it is hardly probable that there were a score among the whole tribe. Few as were the firearms, several good marksmen had been developed among the Blackfeet, and they were naturally proud of their skill. When a party engaged in one of their raids, all the muskets were taken with them. But ammunition was used sparingly, for it necessitated long and expensive journeys through the mountains to renew the supply. You remember that Mul-tal-la left home with only his bow and arrow.

  The messengers, when spending their brief time with our friends while they were pushing toward the Pacific, heard of that new religion which was professed not only by Deerfoot the Shawanoe, but by his companions. It was so different from the pagan belief that the couple, upon their return to the village, took care to make no mention of it; better to leave that until the arrival of Deerfoot. At the same time the two Blackfeet trembled when they thought of what was almost certain to take place. Taggarak was a fierce heathen who would savagely resent any interference with the crude belief that had belonged to his people from time immemorial. A collision between him and Deerfoot, and perhaps with his companions, was among the certainties of the near future.

  Thus everything had been prepared for Mul-tal-la and the Shelton brothers when one afternoon the three rode into the village, with Zigzag the packhorse plodding at the rear of the procession. The arrival made a hubbub of excitement, and it seemed as if the whole settlement—men, squaws and children—gathered clamorously round the horsemen, who dismounted and gazed about them with scarcely less wonder.

  The parents of Mul-tal-la remained in their own lodge. They must have been more eager than any to welcome the son that had been gone so long out of their world, but it would have been weakness on their part to hasten to greet him. Besides, he must needs look after the white youths, who had now become more dependent than ever upon him.

  The two former acquaintances were among the first to crowd forward to welcome the boys and their old companion. There was no mistake as to the genuineness of their pleasure. They told of the quarters awaiting the lads, who, remounting with Mul-tal-la, rode to the new residence erected at the northern extremity of the Blackfoot town, with their guides walking beside their animals.

  Mul-tal-la was as stoical as any of his race, though he was yearning to look upon that father and mother who would greet him, and he them, as if they had been parted for only a few hours. Slipping to the ground again, the three took a peep at the interior of the tepee which has already been described to you. The boys expressed their delight and thanked their friends over and over again. Then Mul-tal-la bade them good-bye, promising to call in a short time, after which he lounged away toward his own lodge. On the road he continually encountered his old friends and exchanged greetings and talked with them as if glad of an excuse for delaying his reunion with his parents.

  One of the first bits of news imparted to the Blackfoot was that Taggarak was absent on a visit to the farthest village to the north, but was expected soon to return. Mul-tal-la was relieved to hear this, for, despite the assurances of his friends, he dreaded the anger of the terrible chieftain.

  When within a hundred yards of his home, which remained closed as if deserted, Mul-tal-la turned into the tepee where dwelt the parents of the companion who had been buried hundreds of miles away. The father sat on a pile of furs at one side of the lodge, stolidly smoking his pipe. His squaw was kneeling in front of the burning wood and trying to blow it into a blaze. They looked up as the visitor drew aside the flap which served as a door. The old warrior removed the long stem from his lips and grunted as he recognized the visitor. The squaw raised her head, saw who the caller was, and resumed blowing the fire, as if she had no interest in what he might say.

  Mul-tal-la told briefly the particulars of what the couple already knew, speaking words of praise for the lost one, and saying how sad his heart had been since the dreadful accident that befell his companion.

  The father replaced the stem in his mouth and slowly puffed. Once he grunted, but did not speak a word. The mother continued to fill her leathern cheeks with air and to blow upon the fagots that were burning so strongly as not to need any urging. She did not speak nor look up until several minutes after the departure of Mul-tal-la.

  CHAPTER XII

  Blackfoot Citizens

  “Well,” said Victor Shelton, “our tramping is through for several months to come, and we may as well settle ourselves for the winter.”

  “There doesn’t seem much to do in the way of settling,” returned his brother; “here we are, and here we must stay till spring comes round. I wish it were with us now, for since we have started for the Ohio I have become homesick.”

  “We’ll soon get used to this life and shall feel better when Deerfoot joins us.”

  They had removed the saddles and bridles from their horses and the pack from the sturdy, faithful Zigzag, and brought them into their new home, after which the animals, including Bug, the pr
operty of Mul-tal-la, had been turned loose to browse with the others at the rear of the village. Blankets were spread on the ground at one side of the tepee, to serve as seats and couches, and the other conveniences, which made up most of the burden carried thousands of miles by Zigzag, were distributed with some taste about the interior. Their native friends had shown their thoughtfulness by heaping a pile of dry sticks under the chimney, with more placed within reach. The starting of the fire was left to the lads. Nothing in the way of food was in sight, but the brothers had no fear of being forgotten or overlooked. It was several hours before nightfall, and they reclined on the furs to rest themselves before going outside. A dozen or more curious men and boys were lounging near, for the murmur of their voices reached the brothers, but no one ventured to intrude upon their privacy.

  “George, when we get back to Ohio we shall be able to tell a story that will beat anything Simon Kenton can relate.”

  “How? There are not many that have passed through as much as he.”

  “But he has never been west of the Mississippi, and it isn’t likely he ever will go. We must have gone two thousand miles beyond. When we see him again won’t we make him open his eyes with our story of a winter among a tribe of Indians far over toward the Stony Mountains?”

  “It will be a great story, indeed; but Victor, how are we going to pass the more than a hundred days that we must stay in this settlement?”

  “Time goes fast enough when we are on the move, either shooting rapids in a river, riding our horses or tramping on foot, but it is mighty dull to sit still and do nothing, and we mustn’t think of any such thing.”

  “But what shall we do?”

  “What shall we do? Lots of things. We can hunt and fish, play games with the youngsters, learn to tramp on snowshoes when winter is fairly here, and, if Taggarak goes off on any raids, we ought to be able to make a full man apiece.”

  George looked into the face of his brother to see if he was in earnest.

  “Do you mean that, Victor?”

  “I certainly do. Why not?”

  “It is well enough to fight when you have to, but Deerfoot will never let you do anything of that kind, nor would I agree to it. It would be trying to kill other people just for the fun of doing so, and that is contrary to what the Shawanoe has taught us.”

  “I suppose we shall have to get on as best we can with the other amusements, but I tremble when I think of the weather that will be here in a few weeks.”

  George looked around at the brown shaggy walls of buffalo fur. He grasped some of the long soft hairs in his palm and stroked the cool mass.

  “We need never run short of fuel, and when the fire is going and the door shut I don’t see why we shall not be as warm as in our own home at Woodvale. But what shall we do? That’s the question. It will be tiresome beyond bearing to lie here stretched hour after hour during the day.”

  “Plague take it!” impatiently exclaimed Victor; “who is going to do anything of the kind? I should like to see Deerfoot let you sleep and lounge your days away. He will share the lodge with us, and you may be sure he’ll keep things moving. There isn’t any weather cold enough nor snow deep enough to hold him within doors, and he’ll hustle you out with him. So let’s hear no more of that. Then you mustn’t forget, George, that we shall make lots of acquaintances among these people. We have learned to speak a good many words of Blackfoot, and shall learn more; we shall take a liking to some of these folks, and, if we have any kind of tact, shall make them like us. Most of them have never before looked upon a white person, but they will soon get over their wonder, and we shall all stand on the same level.”

  “Well, Victor, you have done a good deal to cheer me up. I guess it was the homesickness, after all, that made me blue. See here, these two fellows that put up this house for us have been such good friends that we must be able to call them by name.”

  “Mul-tal-la has repeated them several times to us.”

  “Now, will you repeat either of the names to me?”

  “I couldn’t do it to save my life. They are so long and outlandish that I can never get my, tongue around them.”

  “Let’s give them shorter names.”

  “Well, suppose you name the taller one, who has such a crooked nose.”

  George reflected a moment and replied;

  “I’ll call him ‘Spink;’ that is short and easily remembered. I don’t think he will be offended, for he seems to be good-natured.”

  “We can fancy that it may mean in some language, ‘He that looks Sweeter than Honey,’ and he will be delighted when we manage to make it clear with the help of Mul-tal-la. I have the other fellow named.”

  “What is it?”

  “Jiggers, or, The Warrior that showed Chief Taggarak all He Knows. That ought to make him proud and happy.”

  So the two Blackfeet who had befriended the brothers received their names, and will be hereafter thus known when we refer to them, instead of using the difficult titles by which they were called by those of their own race.

  From his seat opposite the door that was closed Victor had noticed a peculiar agitation now and then of the buffalo flap. Once, when the corner was drawn a little aside, he caught the sparkle of a bright eye, which was instantly withdrawn, as if the owner had noticed that his peeping was observed and he was scared. By and by the eye appeared again, and remained longer than before.

  Victor smiled and crooked his finger at the peeping Tom. A moment later the flap was pulled aside, so as to display the head of an urchin some ten or twelve years old. Victor had whispered an explanation to his brother, and both looked at the boy, who had mustered up enough courage to step inside the tepee and then paused, as if afraid to come forward.

  This young Blackfoot had the broadest, chubbiest face the boys had ever seen, and the grin on it seemed to touch each ear. He was short, stocky, and the picture of good nature. He wore no cap, and his thick black hair was cut so that it hung no lower than his chin on each side. He wore a hunting shirt, leggings and moccasins that were not very tidy, and he carried nothing in the nature of a weapon about him.

  Victor and George could not restrain a laugh at the chap’s appearance. The former continued to beckon to him, and said:

  “Come here, Smiler, and shake hands with your friend.”

  He still hesitated, and, rising to his feet, Victor walked toward him, speaking so soothingly that the visitor kept his place, though apparently ready to duck his head and dash outdoors. He knew nothing about the ceremony of shaking hands, but he allowed Victor to take his palm in his own, and to lead him back to a seat on the furs between the brothers. A few minutes sufficed to make him feel at ease.

  George and Victor called all their knowledge of Blackfoot into use, but they could not think of a word that was intelligible to the youngster, nor could they induce him to speak. He held his forefinger between his lips, shook his head now and then, and glanced slyly from one boy to the other, evidently well pleased but still embarrassed and a little distrustful.

  Victor suddenly crossed over to where most of the contents of the pack carried by Zigzag had been laid out. Among these were several gaudy trinkets brought all the way from Woodvale and carefully reserved for special use. From the lot he took a string of bright crimson, blue and green beads, strung upon a linen thread, the loop being long enough to slip over the black crown and leave the lower part resting in all its dazzling beauty on the breast of the lad.

  You cannot imagine the wonder and delight of the dusky urchin. For a few seconds he seemed too overcome to speak, and hardly breathed. He looked down at the glittering string, then drew his forefinger from between his lips and gingerly caressed the prize. Growing bolder, he raised the loop to his mouth as if to taste it. Pressing one of the beads with his even white teeth, the tiny glass snapped into fragments, some of which flew several feet away. The youngster was startled and glanced up at Victor, as if expecting a reproof.

  The lad pleasantly shook his head to sign
ify that the present did not form a staple article of food, and then the urchin slipped off the pile of furs and stood upon his sturdy legs. Looking gratefully up at the paleface he lifted the string over his head and handed the beads back to Victor. The latter took them from his hand and immediately slipped them about his neck again, thus showing that they belonged to the caller. Then the little one broke into grateful laughter, ran to the door, thrust aside the flap, and was gone.

  “You couldn’t have hit upon a better name than ‘Smiler,’” said George Shelton, much amused by the peculiar visit they had received.

  “Did you ever see one with so broad a grin? My only fear is that the other chaps will be jealous of him and expect us to give them presents, too. We haven’t enough to go a tenth of the way round; but I couldn’t refuse that codger.”

  The caller had not been gone two minutes when Mul-tal-la came in, bringing with him some buffalo meat that he had procured from a neighbor. It was uncooked, which was a small matter to the brothers, who were glad to see him, for he was the one person in the village with whom they could converse freely. Carefully placing the meat on several sticks, so as to protect it from dirt, he sat down to chat a few minutes with his young friends.

  He told them of his visit to his father and mother, whose hearts were made as glad as his own, after their long separation; of his call on the father and mother of the companion whose body lay at rest many hundreds of miles away in the East, and of the comforting assurance that was now his that nothing was to be feared from the resentment of Chief Taggarak. Spink and Jiggers had received within the preceding ten days the assurance from the sachem himself, so that all uneasiness was gone from the heart of Mul-tal-la. But, had not the counsel of the two messengers been followed, nothing would have restrained Taggarak from taking the life of the one that had failed to bring back his comrade.