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<h2> CHAPTER IX </h2>
<h3> SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE </h3>
<p>Looking back, after the expiration of a year, upon Fort Laramie and its
inmates, they seem less like a reality than like some fanciful picture of
the olden time; so different was the scene from any which this tamer side
of the world can present. Tall Indians, enveloped in their white buffalo
robes, were striding across the area or reclining at full length on the
low roofs of the buildings which inclosed it. Numerous squaws, gayly
bedizened, sat grouped in front of the apartments they occupied; their
mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, rambled in every direction
through the fort; and the trappers, traders, and ENGAGES of the
establishment were busy at their labor or their amusements.</p>
<p>We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially welcomed. Indeed, we
seemed objects of some distrust and suspicion until Henry Chatillon
explained that we were not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the
bourgeois a letter of introduction from his principals. He took it, turned
it upside down, and tried hard to read it; but his literary attainments
not being adequate to the task, he applied for relief to the clerk, a
sleek, smiling Frenchman, named Montalon. The letter read, Bordeaux (the
bourgeois) seemed gradually to awaken to a sense of what was expected of
him. Though not deficient in hospitable intentions, he was wholly
unaccustomed to act as master of ceremonies. Discarding all formalities of
reception, he did not honor us with a single word, but walked swiftly
across the area, while we followed in some admiration to a railing and a
flight of steps opposite the entrance. He signed to us that we had better
fasten our horses to the railing; then he walked up the steps, tramped
along a rude balcony, and kicking open a door displayed a large room,
rather more elaborately finished than a barn. For furniture it had a rough
bedstead, but no bed; two chairs, a chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold
water, and a board to cut tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung on the wall,
and close at hand a recent scalp, with hair full a yard long, was
suspended from a nail. I shall again have occasion to mention this dismal
trophy, its history being connected with that of our subsequent
proceedings.</p>
<p>This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that usually occupied by the
legitimate bourgeois, Papin; in whose absence the command devolved upon
Bordeaux. The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a
sense of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo robes. These being
brought and spread upon the floor formed our beds; much better ones than
we had of late been accustomed to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out
to the balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the long looked-for
haven at which we had arrived at last. Beneath us was the square area
surrounded by little rooms, or rather cells, which opened upon it. These
were devoted to various purposes, but served chiefly for the accommodation
of the men employed at the fort, or of the equally numerous squaws, whom
they were allowed to maintain in it. Opposite to us rose the blockhouse
above the gateway; it was adorned with a figure which even now haunts my
memory; a horse at full speed, daubed upon the boards with red paint, and
exhibiting a degree of skill which might rival that displayed by the
Indians in executing similar designs upon their robes and lodges. A busy
scene was enacting in the area. The wagons of Vaskiss, an old trader, were
about to set out for a remote post in the mountains, and the Canadians
were going through their preparations with all possible bustle, while here
and there an Indian stood looking on with imperturbable gravity.</p>
<p>Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the American Fur Company,
who well-nigh monopolize the Indian trade of this whole region. Here their
officials rule with an absolute sway; the arm of the United States has
little force; for when we were there, the extreme outposts of her troops
were about seven hundred miles to the eastward. The little fort is built
of bricks dried in the sun, and externally is of an oblong form, with
bastions of clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of the
corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, and surmounted by a
slender palisade. The roofs of the apartments within, which are built
close against the walls, serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, the
fort is divided by a partition; on one side is the square area surrounded
by the storerooms, offices, and apartments of the inmates; on the other is
the corral, a narrow place, encompassed by the high clay walls, where at
night, or in presence of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of the
fort are crowded for safe-keeping. The main entrance has two gates, with
an arched passage intervening. A little square window, quite high above
the ground, opens laterally from an adjoining chamber into this passage;
so that when the inner gate is closed and barred, a person without may
still hold communication with those within through this narrow aperture.
This obviates the necessity of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes
of trading, into the body of the fort; for when danger is apprehended, the
inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic is carried on by means of the
little window. This precaution, though highly necessary at some of the
company's posts, is now seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie; where, though
men are frequently killed in its neighborhood, no apprehensions are now
entertained of any general designs of hostility from the Indians.</p>
<p>We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. The door was silently
pushed open, and two eyeballs and a visage as black as night looked in
upon us; then a red arm and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall
Indian, gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, and sat
down on the floor. Others followed, with faces of the natural hue; and
letting fall their heavy robes from their shoulders, they took their
seats, quite at ease, in a semicircle before us. The pipe was now to be
lighted and passed round from one to another; and this was the only
entertainment that at present they expected from us. These visitors were
fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the squaws in the fort, where
they were permitted to remain, loitering about in perfect idleness. All
those who smoked with us were men of standing and repute. Two or three
others dropped in also; young fellows who neither by their years nor their
exploits were entitled to rank with the old men and warriors, and who,
abashed in the presence of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing
their eyes from us. Their cheeks were adorned with vermilion, their ears
with pendants of shell, and their necks with beads. Never yet having
signalized themselves as hunters, or performed the honorable exploit of
killing a man, they were held in slight esteem, and were diffident and
bashful in proportion. Certain formidable inconveniences attended this
influx of visitors. They were bent on inspecting everything in the room;
our equipments and our dress alike underwent their scrutiny; for though
the contrary has been carelessly asserted, few beings have more curiosity
than Indians in regard to subjects within their ordinary range of thought.
As to other matters, indeed, they seemed utterly indifferent. They will
not trouble themselves to inquire into what they cannot comprehend, but
are quite contented to place their hands over their mouths in token of
wonder, and exclaim that it is "great medicine." With this comprehensive
solution, an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches forth into
speculation and conjecture; his reason moves in its beaten track. His soul
is dormant; and no exertions of the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of
the Old World or of the New, have as yet availed to rouse it.</p>
<p>As we were looking, at sunset, from the wall, upon the wild and desolate
plains that surround the fort, we observed a cluster of strange objects
like scaffolds rising in the distance against the red western sky. They
bore aloft some singular looking burdens; and at their foot glimmered
something white like bones. This was the place of sepulture of some Dakota
chiefs, whose remains their people are fond of placing in the vicinity of
the fort, in the hope that they may thus be protected from violation at
the hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more than once, and quite
recently, that war parties of the Crow Indians, ranging through the
country, have thrown the bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to
pieces amid the yells of the Dakotas, who remained pent up in the fort,
too few to defend the honored relics from insult. The white objects upon
the ground were buffalo skulls, arranged in the mystic circle commonly
seen at Indian places of sepulture upon the prairie.</p>
<p>We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or sixty horses
approaching the fort. These were the animals belonging to the
establishment; who having been sent out to feed, under the care of armed
guards, in the meadows below, were now being driven into the corral for
the night. A little gate opened into this inclosure; by the side of it
stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy eyebrows, and a
dragoon pistol stuck into his belt; while his comrade, mounted on
horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in front of him, and his long
hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly
troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow corral was
thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, and crowding
restlessly together.</p>
<p>The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in the area,
summoned us to supper. This sumptuous repast was served on a rough table
in one of the lower apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of
bread and dried buffalo meat—an excellent thing for strengthening
the teeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and superior dignitaries
of the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included. No
sooner was it finished, than the table was spread a second time (the
luxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the benefit of certain
hunters and trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinary Canadian
ENGAGES were regaled on dried meat in one of their lodging rooms. By way
of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort Laramie, it may not be amiss
to introduce in this place a story current among the men when we were
there.</p>
<p>There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the meat
from the storeroom for the men. Old Pierre, in the kindness of his heart,
used to select the fattest and the best pieces for his companions. This
did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was greatly disturbed at
such improvidence, and cast about for some means to stop it. At last he
hit on a plan that exactly suited him. At the side of the meat-room, and
separated from it by a clay partition, was another compartment, used for
the storage of furs. It had no other communication with the fort, except
through a square hole in the partition; and of course it was perfectly
dark. One evening the bourgeois, watching for a moment when no one
observed him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered through the hole, and
ensconced himself among the furs and buffalo robes. Soon after, old Pierre
came in with his lantern; and, muttering to himself, began to pull over
the bales of meat, and select the best pieces, as usual. But suddenly a
hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from the inner apartment: "Pierre!
Pierre! Let that fat meat alone! Take nothing but lean!" Pierre dropped
his lantern, and bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of
terror, that the devil was in the storeroom; but tripping on the
threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay senseless, stunned by
the fall. The Canadians ran out to the rescue. Some lifted the unlucky
Pierre; and others, making an extempore crucifix out of two sticks, were
proceeding to attack the devil in his stronghold, when the bourgeois, with
a crest-fallen countenance, appeared at the door. To add to the bourgeois'
mortification, he was obliged to explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in
order to bring the latter to his senses.</p>
<p>We were sitting, on the following morning, in the passage-way between the
gates, conversing with the traders Vaskiss and May. These two men,
together with our sleek friend, the clerk Montalon, were, I believe, the
only persons then in the fort who could read and write. May was telling a
curious story about the traveler Catlin, when an ugly, diminutive Indian,
wretchedly mounted, came up at a gallop, and rode past us into the fort.
On being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close at hand.
Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before the hills beyond the river
were covered with a disorderly swarm of savages, on horseback and on foot.
May finished his story; and by that time the whole array had descended to
Laramie Creek, and commenced crossing it in a mass. I walked down to the
bank. The stream is wide, and was then between three and four feet deep,
with a very swift current. For several rods the water was alive with dogs,
horses, and Indians. The long poles used in erecting the lodges are
carried by the horses, being fastened by the heavier end, two or three on
each side, to a rude sort of pack saddle, while the other end drags on the
ground. About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large basket or pannier
is suspended between the poles, and firmly lashed in its place on the back
of the horse are piled various articles of luggage; the basket also is
well filled with domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with a litter of
puppies, a brood of small children, or a superannuated old man. Numbers of
these curious vehicles, called, in the bastard language of the country
travaux were now splashing together through the stream. Among them swam
countless dogs, often burdened with miniature travaux; and dashing forward
on horseback through the throng came the superbly formed warriors, the
slender figure of some lynx-eyed boy, clinging fast behind them. The women
sat perched on the pack saddles, adding not a little to the load of the
already overburdened horses. The confusion was prodigious. The dogs yelled
and howled in chorus; the puppies in the travaux set up a dismal whine as
the water invaded their comfortable retreat; the little black-eyed
children, from one year of age upward, clung fast with both hands to the
edge of their basket, and looked over in alarm at the water rushing so
near them, sputtering and making wry mouths as it splashed against their
faces. Some of the dogs, encumbered by their loads, were carried down by
the current, yelping piteously; and the old squaws would rush into the
water, seize their favorites by the neck, and drag them out. As each horse
gained the bank, he scrambled up as he could. Stray horses and colts came
among the rest, often breaking away at full speed through the crowd,
followed by the old hags, screaming after their fashion on all occasions
of excitement. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the charms of
vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, holding aloft their master's
lance, as a signal to collect the scattered portions of his household. In
a few moments the crowd melted away; each family, with its horses and
equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of the fort; and here, in
the space of half an hour, arose sixty or seventy of their tapering
lodges. Their horses were feeding by hundreds over the surrounding
prairie, and their dogs were roaming everywhere. The fort was full of men,
and the children were whooping and yelling incessantly under the walls.</p>
<p>These newcomers were scarcely arrived, when Bordeaux was running across
the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring him his spyglass. The obedient
Marie, the very model of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeaux
hurried with it up to the wall. Pointing it to the eastward, he exclaimed,
with an oath, that the families were coming. But a few moments elapsed
before the heavy caravan of the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily
advancing from the hills. They gained the river, and without turning or
pausing plunged in; they passed through, and slowly ascending the opposing
bank, kept directly on their way past the fort and the Indian village,
until, gaining a spot a quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a
circle. For some time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emigrants were
preparing their encampment; but no sooner was this accomplished than Fort
Laramie was fairly taken by storm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin
visages, and staring eyes appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall awkward men,
in brown homespun; women with cadaverous faces and long lank figures came
thronging in together, and, as if inspired by the very demon of curiosity,
ransacked every nook and corner of the fort. Dismayed at this invasion, we
withdrew in all speed to our chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove an
inviolable sanctuary. The emigrants prosecuted their investigations with
untiring vigor. They penetrated the rooms or rather dens, inhabited by the
astonished squaws. They explored the apartments of the men, and even that
of Marie and the bourgeois. At last a numerous deputation appeared at our
door, but were immediately expelled. Being totally devoid of any sense of
delicacy or propriety, they seemed resolved to search every mystery to the
bottom.</p>
<p>Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next proceeded to
business. The men occupied themselves in procuring supplies for their
onward journey; either buying them with money or giving in exchange
superfluous articles of their own.</p>
<p>The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the French Indians, as they
called the trappers and traders. They thought, and with some justice, that
these men bore them no good will. Many of them were firmly persuaded that
the French were instigating the Indians to attack and cut them off. On
visiting the encampment we were at once struck with the extraordinary
perplexity and indecision that prevailed among the emigrants. They seemed
like men totally out of their elements; bewildered and amazed, like a
troop of school-boys lost in the woods. It was impossible to be long among
them without being conscious of the high and bold spirit with which most
of them were animated. But the FOREST is the home of the backwoodsman. On
the remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He differs much from the
genuine "mountain man," the wild prairie hunter, as a Canadian voyageur,
paddling his canoe on the rapids of the Ottawa, differs from an American
sailor among the storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion and I were
somewhat at a loss to account for this perturbed state of mind. It could
not be cowardice; these men were of the same stock with the volunteers of
Monterey and Buena Vista. Yet, for the most part, they were the rudest and
most ignorant of the frontier population; they knew absolutely nothing of
the country and its inhabitants; they had already experienced much
misfortune, and apprehended more; they had seen nothing of mankind, and
had never put their own resources to the test.</p>
<p>A full proportion of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers we were
looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a supply of lead and a few
other necessary articles, we used to go over to the emigrant camps to
obtain them. After some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of
the hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, the price
tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring the article in question.
After waiting until our patience gave out, we would go in search of him,
and find him seated on the tongue of his wagon.</p>
<p>"Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us approach, "I reckon I
won't trade!"</p>
<p>Some friend of his followed him from the scene of the bargain and
suggested in his ear, that clearly we meant to cheat him, and he had
better have nothing to do with us.</p>
<p>This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly unfortunate, as it exposed
them to real danger. Assume, in the presence of Indians a bold bearing,
self-confident yet vigilant, and you will find them tolerably safe
neighbors. But your safety depends on the respect and fear you are able to
inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, you convert them from that
moment into insidious and dangerous enemies. The Dakotas saw clearly
enough the perturbation of the emigrants and instantly availed themselves
of it. They became extremely insolent and exacting in their demands. It
has become an established custom with them to go to the camp of every
party, at it arrives in succession at the fort, and demand a feast.
Smoke's village had come with the express design, having made several
days' journey with no other object than that of enjoying a cup of coffee
and two or three biscuits. So the "feast" was demanded, and the emigrants
dared not refuse it.</p>
<p>One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. We met old men,
warriors, squaws, and children in gay attire, trooping off to the
encampment, with faces of anticipation; and, arriving here, they seated
themselves in a semicircle. Smoke occupied the center, with his warriors
on either hand; the young men and boys next succeeded, and the squaws and
children formed the horns of the crescent. The biscuit and coffee were
most promptly dispatched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed at their
savage guests. With each new emigrant party that arrived at Fort Laramie
this scene was renewed; and every day the Indians grew more rapacious and
presumptuous. One evening they broke to pieces, out of mere wantonness,
the cups from which they had been feasted; and this so exasperated the
emigrants that many of them seized their rifles and could scarcely be
restrained from firing on the insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the
country this dangerous spirit on the part of the Dakota had mounted to a
yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten the emigrants with
destruction, and actually fired upon one or two parties of whites. A
military force and military law are urgently called for in that perilous
region; and unless troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or
elsewhere in the neighborhood, both the emigrants and other travelers will
be exposed to most imminent risks.</p>
<p>The Ogallalla, the Brules, and other western bands of the Dakota, are
thorough savages, unchanged by any contact with civilization. Not one of
them can speak a European tongue, or has ever visited an American
settlement. Until within a year or two, when the emigrants began to pass
through their country on the way to Oregon, they had seen no whites except
the handful employed about the Fur Company's posts. They esteemed them a
wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in leather lodges, like
their own, and subsisting on buffalo. But when the swarm of MENEASKA, with
their oxen and wagons, began to invade them, their astonishment was
unbounded. They could scarcely believe that the earth contained such a
multitude of white men. Their wonder is now giving way to indignation; and
the result, unless vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the
extreme.</p>
<p>But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I used often to visit
them. Indeed, we spent most of our evenings in the Indian village; Shaw's
assumption of the medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample
of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun had just set, and
the horses were driven into the corral. The Prairie Cock, a noted beau,
came in at the gate with a bevy of young girls, with whom he began to
dance in the area, leading them round and round in a circle, while he
jerked up from his chest a succession of monotonous sounds, to which they
kept time in a rueful chant. Outside the gate boys and young men were idly
frolicking; and close by, looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior in his
robe, with his face painted jet-black, in token that he had lately taken a
Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the tall dark lodges rose between us and the
red western sky. We repaired at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. It
was by no means better than the others; indeed, it was rather shabby; for
in this democratic community, the chief never assumes superior state.
Smoke sat cross-legged on a buffalo robe, and his grunt of salutation as
we entered was unusually cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's
medical character. Seated around the lodge were several squaws, and an
abundance of children. The complaint of Shaw's patients was, for the most
part, a severe inflammation of the eyes, occasioned by exposure to the
sun, a species of disorder which he treated with some success. He had
brought with him a homeopathic medicine chest, and was, I presume, the
first who introduced that harmless system of treatment among the
Ogallalla. No sooner had a robe been spread at the head of the lodge for
our accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it, than a patient
made her appearance; the chief's daughter herself, who, to do her justice,
was the best-looking girl in the village. Being on excellent terms with
the physician, she placed herself readily under his hands, and submitted
with a good grace to his applications, laughing in his face during the
whole process, for a squaw hardly knows how to smile. This case
dispatched, another of a different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated
old woman sat in the darkest corner of the lodge rocking to and fro with
pain and hiding her eyes from the light by pressing the palms of both
hands against her face. At Smoke's command, she came forward, very
unwillingly, and exhibited a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared from
excess of inflammation. No sooner had the doctor fastened his grips upon
her than she set up a dismal moaning, and writhed so in his grasp that he
lost all patience, but being resolved to carry his point, he succeeded at
last in applying his favorite remedies.</p>
<p>"It is strange," he said, when the operation was finished, "that I forgot
to bring any Spanish flies with me; we must have something here to answer
for a counter-irritant!"</p>
<p>So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot brand from the
fire, and clapped it against the temple of the old squaw, who set up an
unearthly howl, at which the rest of the family broke out into a laugh.</p>
<p>During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw entered the lodge,
with a sort of stone mallet in her hand. I had observed some time before a
litter of well-grown black puppies, comfortably nestled among some buffalo
robes at one side; but this newcomer speedily disturbed their enjoyment;
for seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged him out, and carrying
him to the entrance of the lodge, hammered him on the head till she killed
him. Being quite conscious to what this preparation tended, I looked
through a hole in the back of the lodge to see the next steps of the
process. The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, was swinging him to and
fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair was singed off. This done,
she unsheathed her knife and cut him into small pieces, which she dropped
into a kettle to boil. In a few moments a large wooden dish was set before
us, filled with this delicate preparation. We felt conscious of the honor.
A dog-feast is the greatest compliment a Dakota can offer to his guest;
and knowing that to refuse eating would be an affront, we attacked the
little dog and devoured him before the eyes of his unconscious parent.
Smoke in the meantime was preparing his great pipe. It was lighted when we
had finished our repast, and we passed it from one to another till the
bowl was empty. This done, we took our leave without further ceremony,
knocked at the gate of the fort, and after making ourselves known were
admitted.</p>
<p>One morning, about a week after reaching Fort Laramie, we were holding our
customary Indian levee, when a bustle in the area below announced a new
arrival; and looking down from our balcony, I saw a familiar red beard and
mustache in the gateway. They belonged to the captain, who with his party
had just crossed the stream. We met him on the stairs as he came up, and
congratulated him on the safe arrival of himself and his devoted
companions. But he remembered our treachery, and was grave and dignified
accordingly; a tendency which increased as he observed on our part a
disposition to laugh at him. After remaining an hour or two at the fort he
rode away with his friends, and we have heard nothing of him since. As for
R., he kept carefully aloof. It was but too evident that we had the
unhappiness to have forfeited the kind regards of our London
fellow-traveler.</p>
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