 | CHAPTER VI. The Crayon miscellany |  |
6. CHAPTER VI.
Trail of the Osage Hunters. Departure of the
Count and his party. A deserted War Camp.
A vagrant Dog. The encampment.
In the course of the morning the trail we were
pursuing was crossed by another, which struck
off through the forest to the west in a direct
course for the Arkansas river. Beatte, our half-breed,
after considering it for a moment, pronounced
it the trail of the Osage hunters; and
that it must lead to the place where they had
forded the river on their way to the hunting
grounds.
Here then the young Count and his companion
came to a halt and prepared to take leave of
us. The most experienced frontiers-men in the
troop remonstrated on the hazard of the undertaking.
They were about to throw themselves
loose in the wilderness, with no other guides,
guards, or attendants, than a young ignorant half-breed,
and a still younger Indian. They were
embarrassed by a pack-horse and two led horses,
with which they would have to make their way
through matted forests, and across rivers and
morasses. The Osages and Pawnees were at
party of the latter, who are ferocious foes; besides,
their small number, and their valuable
horses would form a great temptation to some of
the straggling bands of Osages loitering about
the frontier, who might rob them of their horses
in the night, and leave them destitute and on
foot in the midst of the prairies.
Nothing, however, could restrain the romantic
ardour of the Count for a campaign of Buffalo
hunting with the Osages, and he had a game
spirit that seemed always stimulated by the idea
of danger. His travelling companion, of discreeter
age and calmer temperament, was convinced
of the rashness of the enterprise; but he
could not control the impetuous zeal of his
youthful friend, and he was too loyal to leave
him to pursue his hazardous scheme alone. To
our great regret, therefore, we saw them abandon
the protection of our escort, and strike off
on their hap-hazard expedition. The old hunters
of our party shook their heads, and our half-breed,
Beatte, predicted all kinds of trouble to
them; my only hope was, that they would soon
meet with perplexities enough to cool the impetuosity
of the young Count, and induce him to
rejoin us. With this idea we travelled slowly,
and made a considerable halt at noon. After
resuming our march, we came in sight of the
stream, bordered by a beach of fine sand, overgrown
with willows and cotton wood trees.
Beyond the river, the eye wandered over a beautiful
champaign country, of flowery plains and
sloping uplands, diversified by groves and clumps
of trees, and long screens of woodland; the
whole wearing the aspect of complete, and even
ornamental cultivation, instead of native wildness.
Not far from the river, on an open eminence,
we passed through the recently deserted
camping place of an Osage war party. The
frames of the tents or wigwams remained, consisting
of poles bent into an arch, with each end
stuck into the ground: these are intertwined
with twigs and branches, and covered with bark
and skins. Those experienced in Indian lore,
can ascertain the tribe, and whether on a hunting
or a warlike expedition, by the shape and
disposition of the wigwams. Beatte pointed
out to us, in the present skeleton camp, the wigwam
in which the chiefs had held their consultations
round the council fire; and an open area,
well trampled down, on which the grand war
dance had been performed.
Pursuing our journey, as we were passing
through a forest, we were met by a forlorn,
half-famished dog, who came rambling along the
trail, with inflamed eyes, and bewildered look.
rangers, he took notice of no one, but rambled
heedlessly among the horses. The cry of “mad
dog” was immediately raised, and one of the
rangers levelled his rifle, but was stayed by the
ever ready humanity of the commissioner. “He
is blind!” said he. “It is the dog of some poor
Indian, following his master by the scent. It
would be a shame to kill so faithful an animal.”
The ranger shouldered his rifle, the dog blundered
blindly through the cavalcade unhurt, and
keeping his nose to the ground, continued his
course along the trail, affording a rare instance
of a dog surviving a bad name.
About three o'clock, we came to a recent
camping place of the company of rangers: the
brands of one of their fires was still smoking;
so that, according to the opinion of Beatte, they
could not have passed on above a day previously.
As there was a fine stream of water close by,
and plenty of pea-vines for the horses, we encamped
here for the night.
We had not been here long, when we heard
a halloo from a distance, and beheld the young
Count and his party advancing through the
forest. We welcomed them to the camp with
heartfelt satisfaction; for their departure upon
so hazardous an expedition had caused us great
uneasiness. A short experiment had convinced
travellers like themselves making their way
through the wilderness with such a train of
horses, and such slender attendance. Fortunately,
they determined to rejoin us before night-fall;
one night's camping out might have cost them
their horses. The Count had prevailed upon
his protegee and esquire, the young Osage, to
continue with him, and still calculated upon
achieving great exploits with his assistance, on
the Buffalo prairies.
| CHAPTER VI. The Crayon miscellany | |