University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
The Departure

The long drawn notes of a bugle at length
gave the signal for departure. The rangers filed
off in a straggling line of march through the
woods: we were soon on horseback and following
on, but were detained by the irregularity of
the pack-horses. They were unaccustomed to
keep the line, and straggled from side to side
among the thickets, in spite of all the pesting
and bedeviling of Tonish; who, mounted on his
gallant grey, with a long rifle on his shoulder,
worried after them, bestowing a superabundance
of dry blows and curses.

We soon, therefore, lost sight of our escort,
but managed to keep on their track, thridding
lofty forests, and entangled thickets, and passing
by Indian wigwams and negro huts, until towards
dusk we arrived at a frontier farm house,
owned by a settler of the name of Berryhill.
It was situated on a hill, below which the rangers
had encamped in a circular grove, on the
margin of a stream. The master of the house
received us civilly, but could offer us no accommodation,
for sickness prevailed in his family.

He appeared himself to be in no very thriving
condition, for though bulky in frame, he had a
sallow, unhealthy complexion, and had a whiffling
double voice, shifting abruptly from a treble
to a thorough bass.

Finding his log house was a mere hospital,
crowded with invalids, we ordered our tent to
be pitched in the farm yard.

We had not been long encamped, when our
recently engaged attendant, Beatte, the Osage
half-breed, made his appearance. He came
mounted on one horse, and leading another,
which seemed to be well packed with supplies
for the expedition. Beatte was evidently an
“old soldier,” as to the art of taking care of himself
and looking out for emergencies. Finding
that he was in government employ, being engaged
by the commissioner, he had drawn rations
of flour and bacon, and put them up so as to be
weather proof. In addition to the horse for the
road, and for ordinary service, which was a
rough, hardy animal, he had another for hunting.
This was of a mixed breed like himself, being a
cross of the domestic stock with the wild horse
of the prairies; and a noble steed it was, of
generous spirit, fine action, and admirable bottom.
He had taken care to have his horses well
shod at the Agency. He came prepared at all
points for war or hunting: his rifle on his shoulder,

his powder horn and bullet pouch at his
side, his hunting knife stuck in his belt, and coils
of cordage at his saddle bow, which we were
told were lariats, or noosed cords, used in catching
the wild horse.

Thus equipped and provided, an Indian hunter
on a prairie is like a cruiser on the ocean,
perfectly independent of the world, and competent
to self-protection and self-maintenance.
He can cast himself loose from every one, shape
his own course, and take care of his own fortunes.
I thought Beatte seemed to feel his independence,
and to consider himself superior
to us all, now that we were launching into the
wilderness. He maintained a half proud, half
sullen look, and great taciturnity; and his first
care was to unpack his horses, and put them in
safe quarters for the night. His whole demeanour
was in perfect contrast to our vapouring,
chattering, bustling little Frenchman. The latter,
too, seemed jealous of this new comer. He
whispered to us that these half-breeds were a
touchy, capricious people, little to be depended
upon. That Beatte had evidently come prepared
to take care of himself, and that, at any moment
in the course of our tour, he would be liable to
take some sudden disgust or affront, and abandon
us at a moment's warning: having the means of
shifting for himself, and being perfectly at home
on the prairies.