第78章

Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black mule to meet me; and as we rode over the field together, we counted dozens of carcasses lying on the plain, in the ravines and on the sandy bed of the stream.Far away in the distance, horses and buffalo were still scouring along, with little clouds of dust rising behind them; and over the sides of the hills we could see long files of the frightened animals rapidly ascending.The hunters began to return.The boys, who had held the horses behind the hill, made their appearance, and the work of flaying and cutting up began in earnest all over the field.I noticed my host Kongra-Tonga beyond the stream, just alighting by the side of a cow which he had killed.Riding up to him I found him in the act of drawing out an arrow, which, with the exception of the notch at the end, had entirely disappeared in the animal.I asked him to give it to me, and I still retain it as a proof, though by no means the most striking one that could be offered, of the force and dexterity with which the Indians discharge their arrows.

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and the hunters began to leave the ground.Raymond and I, too, getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, riding straight across the intervening desert.There was no path, and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient to guide us; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive perception of the point on the horizon toward which we ought to direct our course.Antelope were bounding on all sides, and as is always the case in the presence of buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural shyness and timidity.Bands of them would run lightly up the rocky declivities, and stand gazing down upon us from the summit.At length we could distinguish the tall white rocks and the old pine trees that, as we well remembered, were just above the site of the encampment.Still, we could see nothing of the village itself until, ascending a grassy hill, we found the circle of lodges, dingy with storms and smoke, standing on the plain at our very feet.

I entered the lodge of my host.His squaw instantly brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo robe for me to lie upon; and being much fatigued, I lay down and fell asleep.In about an hour the entrance of Kongra-Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, awoke me.He sat down in his usual seat on the left side of the lodge.His squaw gave him a vessel of water for washing, set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and as he was eating pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed fresh ones on his feet; then outstretching his limbs, my host composed himself to sleep.

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, began to come rapidly in, and each, consigning his horses to the squaws, entered his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work was done.The squaws flung down the load from the burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides were soon accumulated before every lodge.By this time it was darkening fast, and the whole village was illumined by the glare of fires blazing all around.All the squaws and children were gathered about the piles of meat, exploring them in search of the daintiest portions.Some of these they roasted on sticks before the fires, but often they dispensed with this superfluous operation.Late into the night the fires were still glowing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this savage banquet around them.

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's lodge to talk over the day's exploits.Among the rest, Mene-Seela came in.Though he must have seen full eighty winters, he had taken an active share in the day's sport.He boasted that he had killed two cows that morning, and would have killed a third if the dust had not blinded him so that he had to drop his bow and arrows and press both hands against his eyes to stop the pain.The firelight fell upon his wrinkled face and shriveled figure as he sat telling his story with such inimitable gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke into a laugh.

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the village with whom Iwould have trusted myself alone without suspicion, and the only one from whom I would have received a gift or a service without the certainty that it proceeded from an interested motive.He was a great friend to the whites.He liked to be in their society, and was very vain of the favors he had received from them.He told me one afternoon, as we were sitting together in his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver and the whites the wisest people on earth;indeed, he was convinced they were the same; and an incident which had happened to him long before had assured him of this.So he began the following story, and as the pipe passed in turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these interruptions to translate what had preceded.But the old man accompanied his words with such admirable pantomime that translation was hardly necessary.