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CHAPTER XX. TAKEN PRISONER.
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20. CHAPTER XX.
TAKEN PRISONER.

For three days we continued our journey without
any incidents worthy of note; but on the fourth day
we met a small party of Pawnees; from whom we
learned, through our Indian interpreters, that the big
village of the Arrapahoes was supposed to be somewhere
in the vicinity of Platte River—at least a
hundred, perhaps a hundred and fifty, miles from
where we now were. This was not the most agreeable
news, as we had hoped to find them somewhere about


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the Smoky Hill Fork; but there was only one thing
to be done under the circumstances, and that was to
push on, as rapidly as possible, till we should discover
them.

On the sixth night from leaving Bent's Fort, we
encamped in a beautiful grove of ash, maple and
cottonwood, which shaded the banks of a tributary
of the Republican Fork. We had passed over flat,
sandy, almost barren prairies, scarcely seeing a tree
or a stream on our route; and therefore the sight of
this beautiful grove was refreshing indeed—more
especially, as it was filled with birds, whose sweet
songs enlivened the scene. Near us was a shallow
stream, flowing over a sandy bed; and on either side,
the grand solemn prairies stretched away as far as the
eye could reach. In the valley here was excellent
grazing for our weary animals; and as we had succeeded
in killing a buffalo, whose nutritious flesh was
now before us, we were in good spirits; and around
our fires that night, as we toasted and ate our meat,
washing it down with pure water, or coffee, we voted
to name the place Camp Delightful.

“It's a purty name enough,” said Botter, in his characteristic
way—as, having filled himself, he lighted
his pipe at the fire, and threw out smoke like a miniature
volcano; “yes, it's a purty name enough, is
Camp Delightful; but when this hyer old beaver seed
this spot afore, he had some'at to make him remember
it without putting sich a fixing to it—ef he hadn't,
why does fishes swim. Augh!”


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“So, my friend, you have been here before?” said
El Doliente, inquiringly.

“Wall I has, hoss; and ef I didn't see some red
niggers that thar night, then chaw me up fur a liar!
Augh!”

As he said this emphatically, he drew the attention
of the whole party, and El Doliente rejoined.

“Suppose you tell us the story; it will serve to
while away the time till our pipes are all smoked out.”

“What does you say to that thar, Ebony?” inquired
Sam, turning to the negro, who had edged his way
up as near the old trapper as he considered prudent.

“Me, mas'er?” returned Cato, in surprise, at being
thus appealed to.

“Yes, you've got a tongue into your head as red as
a biled lobster; and what's the use on't ef you don't
say nothing? Your pealed-inyum eyes shows you're
in fur the gist on't—else why was niggers made? So
what d'ye say now?—blurt her out and don't chaw!
Augh!”

Cato looked inquiringly at his master, who said,
with a laugh:

“The white gentleman (nodding to Sam) would
like to know if you wish to hear his story?”

“Golly! if dat's it, den dis chile say yes, sah!”
replied Cato, with a grin.

“In course that's it,” pursued Sam; “and the man's
a — fool as thinks it aint.”

“We all verree mushe like you tell him to hear,”
said one of the French voyageurs.


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“Wall, squat around, boys, and hyer goes, plum
center,” said Sam.

We all formed a half circle around the old trapper,
who proceeded to tell us the following thrilling story.

“Me and a chap called Stag-Horn,” began Sam,
“kim over here one winter, 'bout ten year ago, on our
way to the mountains. We started with three
muleys; but thar kim along one of the infarnallest
snow storms as ever froze ha'r, and every bone on 'em
went under, leaving us afoot and clean froze. We
had our shooting irons, and we tumbled through the
snow, without seeing nary splinter fur a fire, nary
once. For two days we tramped without sleeping,
with our ha'r froze stiff, and our skins feeling like
fishes' scales, which means they didn't feel at all.
Augh! Wall, the third day, jest as we was 'gwine
to gin in to freezing, and gin the wolves a taste, we
kim to a dog town, whar the wind had blowed the
snow off, and we burnt powder and got half-a-dozen.
We hadn't had nary chaw sence the night afore, and
the first two went in without cooking, for we knowed
death war about, and felt cantankerous. Arter that,
we pulled forward, and got to this spot, jest as the sun
war squatting over the icykels of the Rocky.

“`Hyer's wood,' says I to Stag-Horn—for the
snow'd drifted and left a bare spot—`and we'll make a
fire kim, and feast on dog to-night. Hooray!'

“`Ef we wont, tell me I'm han'some,' says Stag-Horn;
and that 'ud been one of the lies, fur he warn't
nary beauty, no how.


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“Wall, you kin gamble on to it, we fotched a fire,
and tuk a thaw; and then the way them thar dog
went in, every thing 'cept skin and ha'r, war a caution
to old sinners! Hello, nigger! (to Cato) don't grin
that thar way, or you'll cut off the top of your head
—chaw me!”

“You—you'll 'scuse me—but—but you is so berry
funny!” roared Cato.

“Wall, jest open your meat-trap then; but ef you
lose your wool, don't say old One-Eyed Sam didn't
tell ye better.”

Botter now took a long and strong pull at his pipe,
and, rolling out a heavy volume of smoke, proceeded:

“Boys, the way me and Stag-Horn sot up to that
thar fire, was like to courting a sugar-planter's
darter; we fairly hugged it; yes, chaw me up fur a
liar ef we didn'nt! Augh! Arter we'd got thawed
out, so as we felt human, we piled on more wood, and
lay down to it, not 'specting ary skunk of a Injun
would be so froze fur ha'r as to be out on sich a night
—nary one; but we didn't do the infarnal thieves
justice; for jest as we'd got asleep—whiz, whiz—
bang, bang—kim arrers and bullets right among us,
with the tallest screeching and yelling ever a white
nigger heerd. Me and Stag-Horn jumped up like
mad—me with a ball plum through my left arm, and
him with two arrers sticking into his fodder pan; and
we went in and throwed two on 'em cold powerful
sudden. The rest on 'em kim down on us, with
Satan's yells, and this hyer old beaver broke fur


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darkness and a snow-bank. I tumbled into a hole,
and lay thar, and the devils passed right over me,
hunting my ha'r—which they didn't git—no-sir-ee!

“You kin gamble on to it, boys, old One-Eyed Sam
had a cool time on't that thar night; but I didn't dar
to stir a peg. Afore daylight, I heerd the wolves
growling and fighting right night, and I knowed
some'at was up. Arter it got to be day, I peeped out
of my hole, and not seeing nary red nigger no whar,
I ventur'd out. Augh! the first sight I seed froze
my blood wosser nor the cold; fur thar, right down
whar the camp was, lay the bones of Stag-Horn, white
and shining, picked clean by the wolves. Says I,
`Sam, you old fool, what's the use of your gwine to
the mountains this hyer way, afoot and alone? Ef
you've got ary sense, put back;' and you kin gamble
on to it, that this hyer nigger made some back'ard
tracks, and fotched his skin and bones to Independence,
to take a fresh start. That's all. Augh!”

“You certainly have had cause to remember the
place,” said I.

“Kinder—chaw me!” grunted Sam.

Botter's story was not without its effect upon all
who heard it; and the result was, that we picketed
our animals close around the camp, and set a double
guard. The night, however, passed off without any
disturbance; and by daylight we were again in our
saddles, laying our course due north. At noon we
halted under some trees, on the bank of a wide, shallow
stream, which we conjectured to be the Republican


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Fork of the Kansas. Here we were overtaken by one
of the most terrible thunder-storms it has ever been
my fortune to witness. The wind blew a perfect hurricane;
the rain fell in torrents; the lightning seemed
to set the earth ablaze; and the thunder crashed and
roared around us, with a sound that might be likened
to the falling of an Alpine avalanche. We considered
it too dangerous to remain under the trees; and so we
withdrew from the little protection they might have
given us, and faced the storm, in all its fury, on the
open plain. We had no reason to regret our precaution;
for two of the trees, under which we had been
sitting, were shivered with lightning before our very
eyes, and the horse of Botter was prostrated with the
concussion, and lay as if dead.

“Afoot agin, or I'm a wood chuck!” cried Sam,
with an oath. “But hyer's a nigger as aint alone!”
he added, in the next breath, as, at the moment, all
the rest of the animals broke away in a regular stampede.

“You is verree moshe better off as nobody,” said
one of the French voyageurs, pointing to the old trapper's
animal; which not only showed signs of life, but,
getting upon its feet, and giving itself a shake, looked
around with an air of surprise. “Oui, Monsieur—by
gar! ze lightzing sav you hos, and trive ze tam rest
to ze whole universe—sacre!”

“You're right, old frog-eater!” laughed Sam.
“That thar hoss is one on 'em—ef he aint, chaw me!
He stands lightning like a nigger does hot weather.”


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“It's a critter I'd like to own jest now, being as
mine is scattered,” said a tall Missourian.

“But you haint got tin enough to buy him,” rejoined
Botter—“case nobody has. A hoss as stands
lightning like him, suits old One-Eyed; and he aint
agwine to gin him up to any nigger 'cept death.
Augh!”

The storm lasted for two hours; and until its fury
was spent, we made no attempt to regain our animals,
which were now scattered far and wide over the broad
prairie, scarcely any two of them remaining together.
This caused a similar division of our party—each
man seeking his own—but we agreed to make the
spot whence we started the general rendezvous.

Thus it was I gradually became separated from
each one of my companions; and at length I found
myself about two miles from the starting point, upon
a gentle swell of the prairie, where I could overlook
a wide stretch of country in every direction. I could
occasionally perceive, here and there, one of the company,
quite distant—and occasionally, also, one of the
strayed animals. To the north, near a small cluster
of willows, I fancied I espied my own horse, quietly
feeding, and I set off on a run to catch him. As I
drew near, I saw, with delight, I had made no mistake—that
it was indeed my gallant steed—and for
fear of alarming him, I slackened my pace, and approached
him slowly.

Suddenly, from a thick grove, on the bank of a
creek, some quarter of a mile distant, there burst forth


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a small band of mounted Indians, and bore straight
down for me with lightning speed. The moment I
perceived them, I made a desperate effort to get to
my horse before them; and I might, perhaps, have
succeeded, had he not taken fright and sprung away
from me. The next minute I was surrounded by some
fifteen or twenty almost naked, howling Indians, who
pranced around me with fiendish delight, seemingly
anxious to take me alive. I had my loaded rifle in
my hand, and a brace of loaded pistols in my belt, and
my first resolve was to sell my life dearly—but a
moment's reflection caused me to abandon so desperate
a design. I might kill one of the savages—perhaps
three—but I knew I should be killed or captured
in return; and why exasperate my foes, when, by a
different course, I might save my life? Although
armed with bows and arrows, they had not as yet
made a single shot at me—and this led me to hope
their intentions toward me were friendly.

Acting on the impulse of the moment, I dropped
the breech of my rifle, and held up an open palm.
Instantly each one extended an open palm; and one
fine, athletic warrior, riding up to me, struck his breast
with dignity, and exclaimed:

“Arrapaho!”

“So,” thought I, “I have stumbled upon a portion
of the very tribe I was seeking; but I meet them
under circumstances which I would were otherwise.”
The next thought was—“Is Adele their prisoner? and
shall I soon behold her sweet, sad face again?”


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“Where from?” demanded the warrior, who had
just proclaimed himself Arrapaho, and who was in
truth a chief of the nation.

His enunciation of the words was guttural; but I
was surprised and delighted that he could understand
English at all, and I quickly replied:

“I and my companions, who are not far distant, are
from Bent's Fort, and we are on our way to seek your
nation, to make them some presents.”

“Ugh!” grunted the savage. Present much good.
Injun like present. Where present?”

“With my friends,” I answered.

“Where friends?”

“We encamped away yonder; but my horse having
run away, I followed him here alone.”

This was the truth, but not the whole truth—for
I did not wish the Indians to know the company was
scattered, lest they might capture the whole in detail,
and get possession of our goods.

A consultation now took place among my captors;
and as soon as it ended, two of the party dismounted,
deprived me of my weapons, and bound my hands
behind my back. They then placed me on a fine
horse, in front of a grim savage, who threw an arm
around my waist, and dashed away over the plain,
accompanied by only one other of the band. The
direction taken by those having charge of me, was
directly opposite to that which led to Camp Rendezvous;
and I conjectured I was being conveyed to the
Grand Village, perhaps to undergo a trial and be put


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to the tortures. The possibility of such a termination
to all my fondest hopes, made me wretched; and I
almost regretted that I had not kept to my first resolve
of defence, and taken the chances of liberty or death.
I asked my guard whither he was bearing me—but
he returned no answer. I looked back, and saw the
party left behind darting away in a body over the
prairie, in the direction of my scattered friends, and
doubted not that some of them, perhaps all, would
meet with death or captivity. I would have given
half of my remaining days, to have had them in a
mounted body and been at their head; but fate had
made me a helpless prisoner, and it was vain to wish
for other fortune.

On, on we dashed for hours, not a word being
spoken. Many a long league was passed over, night
gradually closed around us, and yet no sign of a halt.

At last we gained the bank of a stream having
some high bluffs, and, turning short around these,
came upon a pleasant valley, over which was scattered
a large Indian village, the different fires flashing their
ruddy lights upon the neighboring huts, and upon the
grim, dusky, half-naked forms of their owners, who,
to my excited senses, appeared rather like spectres
from the infernal regions, than human beings of flesh
and blood. With loud, triumphant whoops and yells,
my guard bore me into the very center of the village,
and deposited me on the ground, at the door of a
large lodge, which I afterward ascertained belonged
to one of the principal chiefs of the nation. Here the


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whole village speedily collected around me—men,
women, children, dogs and all—and such screeching,
yelling, and barking, as then and there greeted me, I
pray God it may never be my fortune to hear again.

Hundreds crowded around me, each anxious to have
a near inspection of my person; but no one offered
me violence, and in a few minutes the tumult subsided.
A consultation among the principal chiefs and warriors
now took place—at the end of which I was
conducted into a lodge near by, thrown upon the
ground, and my legs tightly bound. This done, my
captors withdrew, and I was left alone to my own
unpleasant ruminations and conjectures. What of
the future?