Jack was at first pretty stiff and sore when he arose next day, but as he moved about the camp, engaged in the work of helping to get breakfast and preparing to pack up, his stiffness wore off. He told Hugh that he felt able to ride, and Hugh replied that it would be better for him to be travelling than to lie in camp.
Accordingly, soon after sunrise the little train moved off up the river, crossed without incident at the ford that Hugh had found two days before, and started across the valley. Following up a little tributary that flowed in from the north, they journeyed onward, seeing all through the morning numbers of antelope which astonished even Hugh. They were chiefly bucks, in considerable bands, and entirely fearless, as if they had not been disturbed for a long time. Sometimes a band would start from below them on the hillside, gallop out into the creek bottom, and then turning parallel with the pack train would slowly gallop along not more than forty or fifty yards distant, occasionally stopping and staring, and then starting on again. Hugh declared that at this season of the year he had never seen antelope in such large bunches and said that he did not understand it.
Their camp that night was on a little spring at the head of the small creek that they had been following up, and high hills, almost mountains, rose to the north of them. It seemed to be a country abounding in game, for at night when Jack rode out to round up the horses—since it was thought best now for a little while to picket most of them—he started from the underbrush about the camp no less than seven deer, and none of them seemed especially frightened but trotted off and stood looking at him as he gathered up his animals. After darkness had fallen and they were sitting about the fire, Hugh smoking a last pipe before going to bed, Jack said:—
"What does it mean, Hugh, our seeing so much game here? We haven't seen antelope or deer either as plenty since we have been out as to-day."
"Well," said Hugh, "I don't know as I can tell you, but it appears to me that the Indians haven't been in this country for quite a while, and it's a sure thing no white men have. The only people that travel around here are skin hunters, and when they're in the country we don't find the game tame like it is here. There's lots of buffalo been here too, as you can see, but I ain't seen any right fresh signs for two or three days. Likely we'll run on some though any time. We don't want to kill nothing, though, while we've got any of this meat left."
"No," said Jack, "there'd be no sense in shooting these animals down just to let 'em lie there. It's lots more fun to watch 'em when they're right tame this way than it is to kill 'em."
"That's so," said Hugh; "but most people don't think that way. I wish more of 'em did. Most men when they see anything that's alive they want to kill it, and they want to keep killing as long as there's anything around that moves."
The next day the two passed over a low divide between high hills, and soon came upon water running to the north. Hugh told Jack that this was a branch of the Judith River, that runs into the Missouri from the south. "I don't know," he said, "whether you'd call this the main creek or not; it's lots longer than the other fork that rises in the Judith Mountains, but it don't carry near so much water. The big creek is what we call Big Spring Creek; it flows a heap of water, and mighty nice water too, and the stream is full of trout." As they were passing down the stream Jack suddenly saw Hugh draw in his horse and look long and intently down the valley; then he went on again, and as Jack passed over the ridge he saw half a mile ahead what looked like the poles of two lodges, as Hugh had described them, but they were not lodges for they were not covered. When they had reached these poles they saw that they were two large tripods about twenty feet in height, and from the legs of these tripods were hanging hundreds of moccasins. Some were plain and some beautifully ornamented with beads or with porcupine quills; but the curious thing about them was that they were all made for little feet; in other words they were children's moccasins. Hugh and Jack both dismounted and walked around the tripods, looking at them carefully. Most of the moccasins were about three inches long, and none seemed more than five inches.
"What are these put here for, Hugh?" said Jack.
"Blest if I know," said Hugh. "It's some offering; likely a present to the sun; but why they're all children's moccasins beats me. I expect they're put up here by the Crows, likely; but it might be the Gros Ventres. You see, we're in a kind of a No-man's-land, here. All the Indians pass through on their way to the fort to trade, and yet none of 'em has any rights here."
For several days after this they travelled over the prairie but were constantly in sight of mountains which rose like great islands from the rolling plain. Now they saw buffalo again, and once on crossing a wooded stream valley they started a little band of cow elk with their calves, which trotted swiftly away toward the mountains without being shot at. One night Hugh said to Jack:—
"I expect, son, to-morrow we'll camp with some people that'll surprise you; you'll think they're curious when you look at 'em."
"Why who are those, Hugh? I didn't know you expected to get into any Indian camp now."
"Well no," said Hugh, "I ain't said much about it, but if I ain't mightily out in my calculations we'll strike a big camp to-morrow. More than that, you'll think the people that you meet pretty civilized. They don't live in lodges, and they wear shoes, and some of 'em have got just as good guns as you or me."
"Why, who can they be, Hugh; the Red River half-breeds that I have heard you talk about? I'd like to see their camp."
"No" said Hugh; "to-morrow I expect we'll strike Fort Benton. Have you ever heard of that place?"
"Why yes," said Jack, "of course I have, but I didn't know we were going to pass through it. Oh, that's what you meant by their not living in lodges, is it? How much of a place is Fort Benton?"
"Well," said Hugh, "I don't rightly know how many people live there, but I expect it must be nigh onto a thousand. You take it when the furs and the robes are coming in in the fall and Benton's a mighty lively place. It's the furthest point up the river, you know, where the steam-boats can come, and all the robes are brought in there and taken down by the steam-boats now. In old times they used to go down in flat boats, batteaux we used to call 'em. The river must be full now, and likely we'll see two or three steam-boats tied up there, from down below, loading with furs. You see, they bring up grub and trade goods, and then load up with robes and go on down again."
"I don't want to stop there long; just over night, maybe; but likely we'll find some Piegans in there, and if we do, they can tell us where the camp is. I'd like to have you see the old 'dobe Fort that's there, the first trading post built on the river up here."
"My!" said Jack, "I'd like to see that. Then besides that, Hugh, there must be lots of old mountain men at Benton, ain't there? I should think they'd have interesting stories to tell of the old times."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect there is quite a few in there, but I've noticed that a good many of these old timers don't seem to have much to tell that's very interesting; the main things that they remember are about some time when they came with a big load of furs and sold them at a big price, and then had a terrible fine drunk with the money. I don't guess most of the stories they'd tell would interest you very much. Still, might be such a thing as we'd run across somebody that could give you a talk that was interesting and true, but I don't look for it."
The next afternoon, shortly before sundown, Hugh and Jack rode into the streets of Ft. Benton, and halting before a great log store and warehouse, Hugh dismounted and went in. In a few moments he came out again and riding a short distance down the wide street, turned in to a large building which bore over the door a sign "Stable". Here they unpacked, piled their possessions in a corner, turned out their animals into a corral, and gave them feed and hay, and then Jack and Hugh started out to explore the town.
"I reckon we'll sleep in the stable to-night, and make an early start in the morning. The folks in the store where I stopped told me that there's quite a lot of Piegans in town, and if we can see them we'll find out which way to go to-morrow. Now let's go down to the river and see the old fort."
It did not seem to Jack as if very much of the fort was left, though the tumbled-down walls and one of the old bastions, washed and guttered by the rains of many years, still stood upright in part. To any one interested in the old West or the fur trade, the ground on which Jack stood was historic, and he made up his mind that as soon as he got back east he would find out from the books all that he could about Fort Benton. Hugh could not tell him very much; he thought it was built about 1848 or '49, or maybe earlier, and he knew that it was the place where the Indians used to trade in the old days.
Sauntering along the high bank of the river, toward the edge of the settlement, Hugh's eye at length detected three or four buffalo-skin lodges standing among the sage-brush near the water. They walked over to them and soon saw that they were in an Indian camp, and after a moment's hesitation, Hugh addressed a naked man who was lying in the shade, speaking to him in his own tongue. A sentence or two seemed to galvanize the man, who sprang to his feet and shook Hugh's hand heartily, talking volubly in his own tongue. After a brief conversation Hugh turned to Jack and said:—
"They say the main camp is over on the St. Mary's River, quite a long way from here, and I expect we'll have to go over there to join them. Old Four Bears, here, says he is going back in three or four days, and wants us to wait for him, but I reckon we'll start on to-morrow morning, and get there as quick as we can. An Indian's three or four days is likely to spin out pretty long."
That night, for the first time in weeks, Jack and Hugh ate their supper sitting in chairs at a table in the Fort Benton hotel. They slept that night in the stable, and the next morning replenished their stock of flour, coffee and other provisions, and immediately started northwest in search of the Piegan camp. For several days they travelled northward over the rolling prairie, without adventure. Buffalo were often in sight, antelope were abundant, and sometimes on crossing important streams like the Teton, Birch Creek and Badger Creek, they started deer from the willows along the stream. Several times they came upon small camps of Indians, and Hugh usually stopped to inquire of these small parties where the main camp was. All the people whom he spoke with agreed that it was on the St. Mary's River, and all said that they were about to start north to join it.
Soon after they had left Fort Benton, the great mountains to the westward had begun to be seen, and as they travelled northward they seemed to draw nearer and nearer, until now always on their left this great wall rose up, high, jagged and snow-covered far down towards its base.
One day they made a long march, and toward night camped on the shores of a little prairie lake, on the surface of which many water birds were swimming. After they had made camp, Jack went down to the lake to get a bucket of water. As he stooped to fill his bucket he noticed off to the left a deep bay in which a number of large birds were swimming. The entrance to this bay was narrow, and the birds were near its head, so that it seemed to him that by going to its mouth he could cut them off and keep them from getting out into the main lake. He left his pail standing on the shore, and running to the mouth of the bay found the water there very shoal. The birds which were at the upper end of the bay seemed frightened but made no attempt to fly, though flapping clumsily along on the water away from him. He could now see that they were geese, and as he thought, young ones. He waded into the water which, at the middle of the mouth, was not more than up to his knees, and began to walk toward the geese, and presently these walked up out of the water onto the prairie and hid themselves in the long grass. Going slowly toward them, Jack followed them out of the water and presently saw one crouched on the ground, its head thrust in among the grass. He caught it and, lifting it up, found that it was a goose, nearly, or quite full grown, but as yet unable to fly, for the quill feathers of its wings were soft and bent easily. These he thought would be pretty good eating, and looking about a little he found two more in the grass, and killing the three, went back to his water bucket, filled that and took it up to camp.
"Well," said Hugh, "I was beginning to wonder what had got you. Where did you get them birds?"
"Why," said Jack, "I got 'em in the grass down there by the lake, and I thought they'd be pretty good eating, so I brought 'em along."
"That's good," said Hugh; "they'll do right well for breakfast. I expect you're getting a little tired of that dried meat, and I don't know but I'm ready for a little fresh meat myself. Better put 'em down there by the saddles, and as soon as we've eaten supper we'll go out to leeward of the camp and pick 'em." While they were doing this, Hugh said to Jack:—
"It ain't but a short day's march now to where the camp ought to be, if it ain't moved; and if it's moved it'll be easy to follow the trail. We're bound to catch up to 'em now in the course of two or three days, anyhow."
"That'll be good, Hugh," said Jack; "I want to get into the camp; that's what we've been thinking about now for a good many days, and I'm glad it's so near to us."
"There's the camp," said Hugh, half turning in his saddle, as he drew up his horse on top of the hill. Jack turned Pawnee out of the trail, and trotted by the pack horses, and when he reached Hugh's side, he looked down on the first Indian camp he had ever seen. At the foot of the long hill before them flowed a broad river, and on the wide flat beyond it stood a great circle of lodges, stretching up and down the stream, and reaching almost over to the farther bluffs.
"It's a big camp," said Hugh; "all the Piegans must be there."
"Why, Hugh," said Jack, "there must be an awful lot of people in all those tents."
"Yes," said Hugh, "there's quite a lot of 'em, and I expect, from the way the camp looks, that maybe there's more than just the Piegans. There must be some Bloods and Blackfeet with them. Now you can see what a camp really looks like. It's only once in a while that the people all get together like this. I expect maybe they're getting ready to hold the medicine lodge; that'll come right soon now; about the time that the berries are ripe. That's the biggest time these people have, and I expect if we're here when they hold it this year, you'll like it. There ain't many white people has ever seen a Blackfoot medicine lodge, and if you see one you'll be in big luck."
"I hope I will," said Jack. "I don't know what it is, but I want to find out everything about how these people live, and I want to try to remember everything that I see. Now, most of the lodges stand in a circle, but there are some of them inside the circle; what does that mean, Hugh? What are those for?"
"Well, you see that big lodge nearly in the middle of the circle?" said Hugh; "that's the head chief's lodge. He stops there. And then those two smaller ones on either side of it, pretty well over toward the other lodges, they belong to the secret societies, that they call, 'All Friends.'"
"Secret societies! You must be joking, Hugh; they don't have secret societies among the Indians, do they?"
"They surely do," answered Hugh. "There's about a dozen or fifteen societies of men. A man starts in when he's only a boy, not much bigger than you are, and he keeps going along from one society to another, until he gets to be a middle-aged man; until he begins to be old. The men that are warriors, going to war all the time—young fellows with lots of ambition—they mostly belong to what they call the brave society; Mŭt'siks, they call it. You'll hear all about them societies if you stop long in the camp; but the brave society is about the most important; and that, and two or three of the others, are what we call the 'soldier bands'; they're kind o' like constables. If the chiefs order anything done, and the people don't do it, they tell some of these bands of the 'All Friends' to make 'em do it, and they just have to. Sometimes, if a man's right stubborn, the soldiers'll quirt him, or they'll break his lodge poles, or cut his lodge to pieces, or even kill his horses. Most folks think that each Indian does what he likes; but you can bet it ain't so. And if you'll just think about it a little bit, you'll see it couldn't be so. These people have got to live together, and they couldn't live together comfortably if every man was doing just what he wanted to, and didn't pay no attention to what was good for other people. Now suppose there was a bunch of buffalo close to the camp, and a man found 'em, and started in to run 'em, and kill a lot of meat for himself; he might scare the buffalo, and run 'em all out of the country, so that the other people in the camp couldn't get any for themselves. That is just one way where one man might do a whole lot of harm to everybody in the camp. These people have laws, just like white folks do, and they have to obey the laws too, you bet. Well, let's go on down to the camp. You start them pack horses ahead, and we'll go down to the ford; it runs kind of slanting, and we've got to stick to the bar, without we want to swim."
"Hold on a minute, Hugh," said Jack; "what are those things there, that those horses are dragging?" Several riders had just appeared around a point of the bluffs, close to the river bank, and were entering the water to cross to the camp. Behind each horse followed a pile of wood, supported on two sticks which the animal was dragging. Almost every horse bore a rider. "Why," said Hugh, "that's a lot of women coming in with their wood. Don't you see each horse is dragging a travois, with a load of sticks and brush on it?"
"Oh, are those travois? I want to see how they're fixed on the horses. They are a good deal like our wagons, aren't they? Only they haven't any wheels," said Jack.
"Yes," said Hugh, "that's the Indians' cart. There, you see the way that first woman is pointing? You see, she doesn't go straight across the river; she goes slantways down the stream. There's a big bar runs across there, where the water isn't much more than up to a horse's belly; the bar's narrow, and on either side, it's swimming water; so when you cross here, you have to stick to that gravel bar."
By this time all the women had ridden into the water, and were crossing. Hugh started down the hill toward the point where they had entered the stream, and Jack drove the pack horses close after him. When they were part way down the hill, two more women made their appearance, and riding down the narrow ravine, along which the trail ran, entered the water. Hugh and Jack were not far behind them, and saw them stop a little way from the bank, to let their horses drink. They were near enough to see that the first one was a middle-aged woman, and the last, who was nearer to them, was a young girl.
Just before Jack and Hugh reached the water's edge, they heard behind them the thunder of many hoofs, and suddenly—driven by two Indian boys—there poured over the bank, almost on top of them, a great band of horses, rushing forward at top speed, the younger ones bounding and plunging, with heads and tails in the air, nipping at each other, and lashing out with their heels in play. The leading horses, when they saw the men and the pack train, tried to stop, but they were pushed forward by the throng behind, and obliged to keep on, but the herd separated, and rushed down to the ford on either side of Jack, whose pack horses, tired as they were, threw up their heads and seemed to want to join in the race. The band of horses came together again, just in front of Hugh, and streamed down the trail into the water, and along the bar. The leading ones galloped across, toward the older woman, who, Jack saw, was screaming and motioning with her hands. This stopped the horses in front, but not those behind, which continued to rush into the river, crowding and pushing, at first against each other, and soon against the horse ridden by the girl. She was striking at them with her quirt, but they could not get away from her, on account of those that followed, and in a moment Jack saw them crowd against the horse on which the girl sat, which was being pushed into deeper and deeper water.
It was exciting to watch, and Jack felt afraid that the girl might be knocked off into deep water and drowned. Without thinking of his pack horses, he galloped to the water's edge. The loose horses immediately in front of him started again, and then the whole bunch made a rush for the other bank. There was a confused struggle, and, to his dismay, he saw the old travois horse run against by some of the other horses, and knocked down into the deep water, and the girl and travois horse both disappeared. He heard Hugh call to him, "Ride in and swim for her!" and closing his legs about Pawnee, he galloped him through the shallow water, and in a moment the good horse was swimming over where the girl had disappeared. Jack saw the old horse, still followed by its load of wood, striking out bravely for the other bank, but where was the girl? In a moment he caught a gleam of something white in the water, and almost at the same instant her struggling form appeared. She was just ahead of Pawnee, and a light pressure on the right hand rein, turned the horse so that he swam close beside her, and Jack, reaching over, caught her by the shoulder of her buckskin dress, and pulled her toward him.
As soon as her head was above water she reached out and grasped the horn of his saddle, and then, after resting a moment, drew herself close to the horse, and, helped by Jack, clambered up behind him. By the time she was seated, they were half way across the river, and now Jack did not know whether to guide his horse toward the other bank, or to swim back to the bar. The double weight made Pawnee swim low in the water, but his head was stretched out, his nostrils were well above the surface, and he struck out strongly—as Hugh said afterwards—"like a loon chasing shiners." The question as to which way he should go was soon decided, for in a moment or two the horse's hoofs touched bottom, and he climbed up the rapidly shoaling side of the bar.
"She reached out and grasped the horn of his saddle."—Page 138
During all this time Jack had not looked about him very much; he had been thinking how he should get hold of the girl, and then, how he should get to shore. If he had looked, he would have seen the girl's mother sitting on her horse, near the bank where the camp stood, scanning the water just ahead of him, and twisting her hands, but uttering no word. He would have seen Hugh gallop into the water, followed by the pack horses, and ride off the bar, not very far behind him, and then, when Jack got the girl, ride back to the bar and go on toward the other shore.
Now, when Jack was on the bar once more, he saw just before him, the old woman sitting looking at him, and, hearing a splashing in the water behind, he looked around and saw Hugh following.
"Is the girl hurt?" called Hugh.
"I don't know," answered Jack, "I didn't think to ask her. Are you hurt, little girl?" he added, twisting in his saddle, so that he could look into her face. As he did so he saw that blood was trickling down over her forehead. She did not answer him, but shook her head.
In a moment more he stopped by the woman, who reached out her hand and took hold of the girl's arm, and spoke to her; but of course Jack did not understand what she said, though he felt that the girl shook her head. Then Hugh, who had come up, spoke to the woman in the Indian tongue. She replied, and after a moment's conversation, Hugh said to Jack, "Ride after the old woman, son; we will camp at her lodge to-night. I know her husband right well; he is a relation of old John Monroe's. You're in pretty good luck that you fished that girl out of the river the way you did. You'll surely be thought a heap of in this camp. She's Little Plume's daughter. He's an awful good man, a great warrior and a chief, and there won't be anything too good for you in this camp as long as you're here. I expect the little girl hurt her head when she rolled off that horse, but I reckon it ain't nothing but a little cut." He spoke to the girl, who did not answer him, but her mother spoke for her and Hugh said, "No, she ain't hurt a mite." By this time they had ridden up on the bank, and were entering the circle of the camp. Jack looked about him with the greatest interest, and forgot that he was wet, cold and shivering.
The lodges were great broad cones, and each one ended above in a sheaf of crossing lodge poles. Beneath where the lodge poles crossed, on one side, there was a dark opening from which smoke poured out, and on either side of this opening, stretched out a sort of three-cornered sail or wing. Near the ground, the skins, which covered the lodges were yellow or gray, but toward the top they grew darker, and some of them were dark brown. Some of the lodges had great patches on them, as if they had been mended. Some were ornamented with curious figures. Over the door of one was painted the black head of a buffalo cow. On another there was the figure of an elk. About yet another was a broad band of red, on which a procession of black birds seemed to be marching round the lodge. From the points of the wings of many lodges, hung buffalo tails, and sometimes great bunches of this black hair ran down from the smoke hole to the door. Scattered about through the camp were many people, busy about many different tasks. Groups of men smoked together. Women were busy hammering on stones. Here and there men sat by themselves, working with knives or other tools, at sticks of different sorts. On the ground were hides, over which women were bending.
All these things Jack saw, but did not very well comprehend. Meantime they had crossed the circle and approached a large lodge, near which two women were busy, with whom were two or three little children, and by the lodge stood an old horse with a travois, on which there was a load of wet and dripping wood. The woman Jack was following called in shrill tones to the others, and as Jack stopped, they hurried up to him, lifted the girl from his horse, and took her into the lodge. The woman motioned for him to dismount, and at the same moment the pack horses came up, driven by Hugh.
Jack was glad to get his feet on the ground once more, and to stamp about a little to get warm. Hugh said to him, "Go inside, if you like, son, and get close to the fire; you must be cold."
"No," said Jack, "I'll help you unpack first. I'll get warm sooner if I'm working."
"I believe you will," said Hugh; "that's pretty good sense. It won't take us long to get these packs off." Nor did it. In a very few minutes the horses' loads were piled up outside the lodge door, the pack horses turned loose, and the saddle horses tied to pins driven in the ground near the lodge. Then Hugh and Jack went inside.
There was a bright, warm fire there, evidently just built up, and Jack, who in entering had hit his head against the top of the doorway, was about to step up to it and warm his hands, when Hugh laid his hand on his shoulder and guided him to the right as they went in, and pressed him to the ground, and both sat down near the door. The woman spoke up quickly, in a voice as if she were finding fault, and motioned toward the back of the lodge, and Hugh rose and led Jack around, almost opposite the door, where they again sat down. "Now, son," said Hugh, "take off your shoes and all your outside things, and try to get dry. After we've set here a minute or two, maybe I'll go out and open one of the packs, and see if I can get you some dry clothes." He spoke to the woman for a moment, and then turning to Jack, said, "She says she wants us to stop here until her husband gets back. He and John Monroe went off early this morning, up the creek, to try to get some deer skins. Pretty soon now they'll be back. She says that even if you do go to stop with John Monroe, she wants you to sleep to-night in this lodge, so that her husband can see you and talk to you. She says he will not forget that you pulled his little girl out of the water. She thinks you are a good boy. You acted quick. When you grow up you will be a good man and brave. If you go to war you will have good luck."
Jack felt rather embarrassed. "Do you mean to say that she said all those things about me?" he asked.
"Yes," said Hugh, "that's just what she said."
"Well," said Jack, "of course I'm awful glad I pulled the little girl out of the water, but anybody else would have done it just the same, and if I hadn't, why you were right there and would have done it, I expect, a good deal quicker than I did."
"Well," said Hugh, "maybe I might, but you're the one that did it, that makes the difference, and I expect that woman, and her man, too, will be mighty grateful to you. What is more, they'll talk about it all through the camp, and you'll see that everybody here will have a good word and a pleasant smile for you to-morrow."
Jack had taken off most of his wet things, and had thrown them on the ground beside him, and now the woman came over to where he was, holding a great, soft buffalo robe, which, with a laugh, she threw around him, almost covering him up. Then she went back, and in a moment threw across the lodge to him a pair of boy's moccasins and a pair of leggings. Then she went out of the lodge.
"Now," said Hugh, "take off all your things, put on them leggings and moccasins, and set here by the fire with that robe around you. The woman will hang up your things, and they'll be dry in a little while, and then you can dress again if you want to. I'm going out now to look after the horses, and maybe to look around the camp. Or, if you like, I'll just see after the horses, and then come back, and when you're dressed we'll go around the camp together."
"I'd like that best of all, Hugh, if you don't mind waiting. I suppose you've got a lot of friends in the camp you'd like to see."
"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect I have, but there ain't no great hurry. I'll have plenty of time to see them and visit with them;" and he went out.
When Hugh and Jack went out of the lodge together, the sun was already touching the sharp peaks of the distant snow-patched mountains. The air was cool, and the sky still clear and bright, only toward the east it was beginning to take on the shade of dark blue which foretells the night. The camp was active. Women were hurrying up from the stream, each carrying one or two buckets of water. Men were walking here and there; boys racing to and fro, chasing each other, wrestling and shouting; from the piles of wood which stood near the door of each, little girls were carrying sticks into the lodges; boys and women were tethering horses to pins driven in the ground close in front of the lodges; a few men were coming into the camp, with red meat piled behind them on their horses. From different lodges, near and far, came loud voiced callings, while, riding around the circle of the camp, just within the lodges, passed an old man, who constantly shouted with powerful voice. From the smoke hole of every lodge, smoke was rising, and toward some of them, naked men were directing their steps.
"Oh, Hugh, isn't this great?" said Jack. "Hold on a minute; let's look and listen. Isn't this wonderful! I feel as if I wanted to stop right here, and ask you what every one of these things mean."
"Well," said Hugh, "I expect likely you never did see anything like this before, and maybe you never had no idea of what an Indian camp is. 'Course, it's all a pretty old story to me, but I'd like right well to tell you all I know about it."
"Well," said Jack, "let's begin right now. What is that old man doing that's riding around on the white horse, holloaing so?"
"Why that's the camp crier," said Hugh; "he's telling the news, and maybe giving the chief's orders; telling the people what the camp is to do to-morrow. Listen a minute, and I'll see if I can tell what he's saying." He held up his hand for Jack to keep silence, and after listening for a moment or two, he smiled and said, "Why, son, he's talking about you, now."
"Why that's the camp crier."—Page 146
"About me!" said Jack.
"Yes, he's telling how you fished Little Plume's girl out of the creek. You see, he's kind o' like a newspaper to the camp here; he tells them everything that's happened, and what he was saying then was, that the white boy that came into the camp with White Bull—that's me—had ridden into the river and pulled out the child of Little Plume, after she had fallen off her horse and cut her head."
"Well, that's funny," said Jack; "I never supposed that anything that I'd do would be worth telling a lot of people about."
"Well," said Hugh, "that's what he was saying then; he's getting so far off now I can't hear much of what he says. That shouting that you hear from these different lodges is men inviting their friends to come and eat and smoke with him. That's a great thing among these people; they like to have their friends come and see them, and eat with them. It's just like if I lived somewhere in the east, and asked you and your uncle, and a lot of my other friends to come and take dinner with me."
"Why," said Jack, "that's just what it must be, a regular dinner party, only, instead of writing the invitations, they shout them out from the lodge."
"That's just about the size of it," said Hugh. "Well, come on now; let's go over to the head chief's lodge, and sort o' report to him; tell him we've come. He's a good old man, and he'll be glad to see us both, I expect."
The sun had set, and in the growing dusk they walked across the wide circle to the head chief's lodge. Just before reaching the door, they passed an old woman, who, as she saw Hugh, gave an exclamation of surprise, and spoke to him, shaking hands with him as she did so. Then, after a moment's talk, she turned and shook hands with Jack, and passed on. "Now, you notice that, son," said Hugh; "that old woman shook hands with both of us, but you mustn't expect other women to do that. She's old, and her husband's a great friend of mine, so she knows me well; but most women won't look at you nor speak to you, much less shake hands with you, until they get to be mighty well acquainted with you. They're shy like."
When they reached the lodge door, Hugh bent down and passed in first, closely followed by Jack; then turning to the right he advanced a few steps, and spoke to the old man who was sitting at the back of the lodge. The Indian placed his right hand over his mouth, as he gave an exclamation of surprise, and then clapping his hands together, motioned Hugh to come and sit by his side. Jack followed, and sat down, and in a moment the old man leaned over and shook hands with him. "Ironshirt says he's right glad you've come to the camp, son, and that he heard this afternoon what you had done, and it's good. He hopes you will stop here for a while; all the people will be glad to have so friendly a person living with them."
Hugh and the old man talked together for a long time, while Jack sat on the bed before the flickering fire, and watched what was going on in the lodge. In that half of it which was to the left of the door, there were three women, and an uncountable number of little children. Two or three of the smallest were babies; two of them confined on boards which stood against the lodge poles, while one, a little older, and absolutely naked, rolled on the floor, so close to the fire that Jack felt a little nervous lest it should crawl into it. Two little girls, six or eight years old sat on the bed between two of the women; each one had a little robe about her, and above this robe, and looking over the little girl's shoulder, was the head of a little puppy, which every now and then squirmed and struggled, seeming to make frantic efforts to get free. There were two boys, ten or twelve years old, each of whom held in his hand a bow and some arrows, but soon after Hugh had entered, these two passed out of the lodge, and were not seen again. The women were cooking some dried meat which looked to Jack like strips and fragments of black leather, which one threw into the pot which hung over the fire, while the other occasionally stirred this pot with a stick, and watched another which was partly full of a dark bubbling mass, which looked like jam.
The talk between the two men lasted a long time, but Jack did not grow weary of watching what was happening in the lodge. Suddenly from without, and very far off, came a long, shrill, quivering cry, and every one ceased talking. One of the women swiftly passed out of the lodge, and, after a moment or two, returned to the door and called out something to those within. Hugh turned to Jack, and said, "Somebody has been wounded by enemies. Let's go out and see what it is;" and they rose and passed out of the lodge into the darkness. There was much excitement without, and many people were hurrying from all quarters toward the lodge where Jack and Hugh were to pass the night.
"What do you suppose it is, Hugh?" said Jack.
"I don't know," said Hugh, "no more than you do; only what the woman said; what I told you." As they walked along, they saw before them a throng of people on foot crowding around several men on horse-back, who were riding toward Little Plume's lodge. As Hugh and Jack pushed their way through the crowd, they saw these men alight, and two of them helped the third into the lodge. Then, presently, when they had elbowed their way through the crowd of men, women and children, and had nearly reached the door, a man stepped out of the lodge, talked for a few moments in a loud voice, and the crowd dispersed as rapidly as it had gathered.
Hugh and Jack entered the lodge, and saw there, old John Monroe, and a small, slender, handsome Indian sitting on one of the beds, eating, while on another bed a third man was stretched out, and an old Indian knelt by him, washing a wound in his shoulder.
"Why, hallo, Hugh, h' ole man! You was come. My glad my see you. Hallo, Jack! You come too. That good."
"Yes, John," said Hugh, "son and me made up our minds that we couldn't get through the summer without coming up to visit with you folks for a little while, and here we are. But what's the trouble? How did the young man get hurt? Hallo, Little Plume! How are you? Ok'yi." Jack shook hands with John and Little Plume, and for a few minutes all the men talked earnestly; then Hugh turned to Jack and said, "Well, I expect you want to know what this is all about, son, so I'll tell you, but you'll have to start in and learn Piegan for yourself, if you're going to stop all summer in this camp, because it's mighty slow work to have to have everything interpreted to you. It seems that John, Little Plume and Yellow Wolf—this young fellow here—started out early this morning, up into the hills, to try to kill some buckskin, for Little Plume's wife wanted to make some leggings. They had left their horses and were hunting along on foot, pretty well spread out, John to the north, Yellow Wolf in the middle, and Little Plume to the South, when suddenly Yellow Wolf walked into three Crows that were lying hid in the pines. They must have heard him coming, or anyhow, they saw him before he did them, and two of them let drive at him with their arrows, and one shot at him with a gun. The first arrow, he thinks, hit him in the shoulder, striking the bone, and kind o' turned him around, and he dropped. The other arrow and the gun missed him. When he fell, the three Indians jumped forward to strike him, but he raised up and let fly with his old fuke, and killed the leading man, and then he pulled his bow and arrow and shot at the second man. This made 'em see that he wasn't dead, and both the Crows dodged into the brush. When John and Little Plume heard the two shots so close together, they knew that Yellow Wolf had been attacked, and they both came down to see what was the matter, and when the two Crows heard them coming, they got up and skipped out as lively as they knew how. John got a shot at one of 'em, but he don't think he hit him. The country there is rough and broken with lots of pines, and they didn't know but there might be a big party of Crows somewheres near, and the boy here was wounded, so they struck the enemy and took his scalp, and got the boy back to the horses and brought him in. Little Plume's going to take a lot of young men out there in the morning, and see if they can find them Crows. I expect likely it was just a little party coming down to steal the Piegans' horses. Likely they'll travel all night and be far enough away before morning comes. Little Plume says that there may be a big war party not far off, and thinks that the young men ought to stand guard over their horses to-night; but I expect they won't do it. An Indian will take all sorts of precautions to avoid being surprised, except the precaution of staying awake. They have got to be pretty badly scared before they'll do that. They're great fellows to take their natural rest."
"Well, how is the young man, Hugh," said Jack; "is he badly hurt?"
"No," said Hugh, "I reckon not. I haven't looked at him, but from what these men say, I judge he'll be all right in a few days. I'll ask Red Bear, there; he's doctoring him." He spoke to the old man, who had finished attending to Yellow Wolf, and was now gravely smoking a long pipe that Little Plume had passed to him. He spoke a few words, and Hugh said to Jack, "The old man says that he's not badly hurt; that before long he will be quite well."
A little later, Little Plume spoke to Hugh quite earnestly for some moments, and then stood on his feet, reached over and shook Jack's hand. "He says," said Hugh, "that his woman told him what you did this afternoon, and he will always remember it; that you will always be like a son to him, because you saved the life of his little girl. He cannot tell you much of what he feels, but his heart is big toward you. He wants you to stop here in this lodge as long as you can, and if you see anything of his that you want, you must take it, for it is yours."
"Well," said Jack, "I don't see why they make so much of a fuss over my getting the girl to shore. If he wants to thank anybody, he ought to thank Pawnee. I could not have done anything without him. Tell him that I am glad I could help the little girl, and that it makes me feel good that he should be friendly toward me."
For a long time they sat there by the fire, the men talking in a language that Jack could not understand, while he listened to the sounds without, and watched the sights within. Now and then would be heard the swift galloping of a horse, as some one rode rapidly across the circle of the camp. Young men shouted shrilly to each other. From various points came the sound of drumming and of distant singing. Now and then a party of four or five would pass by on foot, chanting some plaintive, melancholy air. There was a distant hum of voices, above which occasionally rose the sweetly shrill laugh of a woman. Within the lodge, the fire snapped and flickered. One by one the women and children lay down upon their beds, and wrapped their brown robes about them, and lay still. The men talked on and the long-stemmed pipe passed from hand to hand. As the men talked, their hands flew in the graceful gesticulations of the sign language, and sometimes Jack imagined that he could tell what it was that they were talking about. Jack watched and listened, and listened and watched, but by and by his eyes grew dim, and he began to nod.
Hugh noticed this after a little, and turning to him, said, "Well, son, I reckon you're tired. We've had a long day, and I expect you'd like to go to sleep. There's your bed," he added, pointing, "under where your clothes hang. You'd better turn in in them buffalo robes, and get a good night's rest." Jack was glad to do it, and before long had forgotten where he was.
The next few days Jack spent in the camp, going about from lodge to lodge with Hugh, being introduced to his friends, being invited to feast by them, and listening to their speeches and stories, which, of course, he did not understand at all. There was so much that was strange, in this simple savage life that he did not get tired of watching the people and wondering what their different actions meant.
One day Hugh had gone off to the head chief's lodge, and had left Jack alone in front of their home. The sun shone brightly down on the camp, but a cool breeze, laden with the breath of the snow fields far above, swept down from the mountains and made Jack feel chilly. He sat down in the lee of the lodge, where it was warm and comfortable in the sun. Before he had been there very long a shadow fell across the ground, and he looked up to see standing near him an Indian boy about his own age. Presently the boy sat down beside him and began to make signs, often pointing up toward the mountains, but Jack understood nothing of what he wished to say, and at length the boy seemed to become discouraged, and stopped making signs, and they sat there side by side looking at each other. Jack saw that he had no braids hanging down on each side of his face, as all the other children had. His hair seemed to have been cut off, and now, although it was long and hanging down on his shoulders, it was not yet long enough to be braided. Instead of being naked, as most boys of his age in the camp were, this boy wore leggings and a shirt of buckskin. He had a pleasant, intelligent face.
After sitting there for a little while, to Jack's great astonishment the boy suddenly said: "How you like it here?"
"Why—why!" stammered Jack, "first class. But what makes you talk English?"
"Oh," said the boy, "I talk English all right. I was raised with white people in Benton. I have been to school four or five years, and I can read and write pretty good. My name's Joe; Bloodman, they call me in Piegan."
"Well," said Jack, "I'm mighty glad to know you; glad to find anybody here in the camp that I can talk to besides Hugh and old John Monroe."
"Oh," said Joe, "there's quite a few people in this camp that can talk some English; there'll be more when they've all moved in. There's some white men here that have Indian wives, and some of their children can talk English pretty good, too."
"Yes," said Jack, "Hugh told me about that; but I haven't seen anybody yet that seemed to be able to talk to me."
"Well," said Joe, "that's a fact. A good many of 'em don't like to talk English, and I'll tell you why; because they're afraid that they'll make mistakes, and then maybe you'd laugh at 'em."
"Great Scott!" said Jack, "there wouldn't be any sense in that. I might just as well never try to learn anything about living here in the camp for fear that somebody would laugh at me. But say, ain't it great that you can talk English. Do you live here?"
"Yes," said Joe, "I live right here. The man that raised me died last year, and his wife went off to the States. She told me she'd take me along if I wanted to go, but I told her I'd rather stay in this country. So I came back to the camp, and now I live here with my uncle. He's Fox Eye, one of the chiefs of the Fat Roaster band. Say," he added, "where did you come from?"
Jack told him, and how he had come up from the south with Hugh, at John Monroe's invitation, and that he expected to spend a couple of months with the tribe.
"Ah," said Joe, "that's good. Pretty soon after we've had the Medicine Lodge the people will move out onto the prairie to kill buffalo. The women want new lodge skins, and food will soon be needed. Do you think you'll like it here?"
"Yes, you bet!" said Jack; "it's the bulliest place I've ever been in. I never get tired of wondering what the people are doing; and why they're doing it. Say, you could tell me a lot about all these things, couldn't you?"
"Maybe so," said Joe; "I know some of the things, but I've been away from the tribe a whole lot, and then I'm only a boy, so I don't know much. The old men are the ones who know things; they could tell you. Get White Bull to ask them about all the different ceremonies and the customs. Maybe they'd tell him when they wouldn't tell you and me. Do you like to hunt?" and Jack answered: "You bet I do! I've never done much hunting, but I've killed some deer and antelope and elk, and down south of here, as we were coming along, I killed a buffalo."
"You've got a good horse," said Joe. "I've seen him. He'll catch the fastest cows. Your lodge will always have plenty of meat."
"Yes," said Jack, "he's a good horse; fast, and good to hunt with."
After a little, Joe asked him: "Ever hunt sheep?"
"No, I never exactly hunted 'em. Just after we crossed the Yellowstone, coming north, three or four sheep pretty nearly came into our camp one morning, and I killed one there. Those are the only ones I ever saw."
"There are sheep up there," said Joe, pointing to a flat mountain not many miles away.
"Is that so?" said Jack. "I shouldn't think there'd be any as close to this camp as that. I should think the Indians'd kill 'em all off."
"Pooh!" said Joe; "these Indians don't hunt in the mountains, they hunt on the prairie, they kill buffalo, but they don't go much into the mountains, nor into the timber; they're afraid of bears. Lots of bears here. S'pose you feel like it, some day you and me go up on the mountain, maybe kill a sheep."
"Oh, wouldn't I like it," said Jack; "those mountains look so big and gray and rough. I'd just love to get up on 'em and climb round there."
"Well," said Joe, "s'pose to-morrow's a good day, maybe we go up there."
"All right," said Jack, "I'd like nothing better, and I'll speak to Hugh about it as soon as he comes back. He's gone off to the head chief's lodge now."
"Yes," said Joe, "I know; they're having a big talk over there. I don't know what it's about. I expect maybe it's something about the Medicine Lodge. That comes pretty soon now."
"Yes," said Jack, "I heard Hugh say that he thought it would come before long. I want to see that too."
"Well," said Joe, "that'll last four days, and then pretty soon after that I guess the camp'll move out onto the prairie."
The boys were still talking there when Hugh returned to the lodge, and Jack at once spoke to him about what Joe had proposed.
"Why yes," said Hugh, "that's a good thing to do. Likely as not you might kill a sheep up there, and anyhow, it's a good climb, and it'll do you good to get up onto the high hills and look out over the prairie. I can't go with you, myself, because the old man over there wants me to spend the day with him to-morrow, but you and Joe can go, and I guess you won't get into no mischief. Ever been up there, Joe?"
"Yes, sir," said Joe, "I've been up there a good many times."
"All right," said Hugh; "go along then; but see that you don't get into no trouble. If you see any bears, don't bother with 'em; just let 'em go off. Go up there and kill a sheep, if you can, and spend the day, but try and get in before dark."
The next morning the two boys started. Joe rode a little fat, wiry pony, without either saddle or bridle, and Jack, as usual, rode Pawnee. The trail up the mountain was narrow, overgrown and winding, so that in many places it was hard to see where it went, but Jack noticed that all along it, the twigs of the aspens had been bent and broken by persons riding along it, so that it was not difficult to follow. Every now and then, however, it left the aspens and passed out through a little park where the grass was long and bent in all directions by the passage of animals. Some of these were elk, and Jack saw a bear track or two. In such open parks the trail was quite lost, for in passing across such open places the Indians no longer follow one behind another in single file, but spread out, each horse taking his own way. The mountain side was absolutely wild, and looked as if it might shelter any number of wild animals, but nothing larger than a squirrel was seen, and at last they reached the steep, grassy slopes which lay just below the rocks. Here Joe said they must leave the horses, and they picketed them there.
Not many yards above where they stood, the stones, fallen from the mountain side, lay piled up steep, and above them rose sharply the vertical cliffs which formed the summits of the mountain. Jack looked up at the rocks and said to Joe: "Do we have to get up on the top there?"
"Yes," said Joe, "that's the place to look for sheep. Pretty good climb up there, ain't it?"
"Yes," said Jack, "it looks a long way, but we've got plenty of time to do it in."
"That's so," said Joe, and they started, Joe leading and Jack following close behind, carrying his rifle in his hand. It was hard work climbing up over these steep rocks, some of which were just balanced so that if one stepped on them near the edge they tipped, making the footing uncertain, and to the white boy, accustomed only to the exercise of riding, the work was hard. Before long he was quite out of breath, and the exertion made the perspiration stream down his face, though the day was not a warm one and a cool breeze blew along the mountain side.
Presently Joe stopped and sat down in the lee of the great mass of rock, saying, as he did so: "Pretty hard work; makes me puff and blow plenty, and you too."
"Yes," said Jack, as he threw himself on the ground, "I haven't much wind. I'm not used to being as high up in the air as this, and then I'm not used to going much on foot. Say, Joe," he added, after a pause, "why do you carry a bow and arrows?" for the only arms Joe carried except a knife in his belt were a bow and arrows, in a case attached to a strap which passed over his shoulder.
"Pretty good reason," said Joe; "I ain't got no gun, and this is all I've got to hunt with."
"Well," said Jack, "you must have to get up pretty close to your game to kill 'em with bow and arrow, don't you?"
"Yes," said Joe, "pretty close. Of course buffalo hunting you ride up right close to the cow. Sheep and deer and antelope you have to crawl up as near as you can, and then maybe you have to wait, sometimes a long time, perhaps half a day. Then maybe the animals come near you, or go to some place where you can get near them, so you kill 'em. This bow shoots pretty strong. I've sent an arrow so deep into a cow that the feathers were wet with the blood, but then I never used a bow much. Some boys in the tribe can send an arrow pretty nearly through a buffalo. Some of the men, the best hunters, can shoot clear through a buffalo, so that the arrow falls out on the other side. One man in the camp one time killed two buffalo with one shot; the arrow went clear through the first one, and stuck in the second so deep that it killed it. Queer, wasn't it?"
"Well, I should say it was," said Jack. "I'd hate to have anybody shoot at me with one of those things."
"Yes," said Joe, "a bow shoots pretty strong, and then it don't make any noise; sometimes you miss a shot with the first arrow, you get a chance to shoot once or twice or three times more. The animal don't see you or hear you, just keeps on feeding."
After two or three more rests they found themselves on a stone platform, just below the foot of what Joe called the reef, meaning the great wall of rock which rose sheer to the top of the mountain. Here Joe pointed out several trails, winding about among the stones and sometimes passing over them, which he said were sheep trails, and now he warned Jack that they must look out carefully, for they might see sheep at almost any time. They went forward along one of these trails, climbing up pretty well toward the foot of the reef, and keeping a good lookout ahead and below them. As they went on, the reef broke away to their left, and Jack could see that a narrow and deep valley ran out from the mountain side, with grass and willows along the course of the stream which flowed through it. Very slowly and cautiously they proceeded, seeing nothing and hearing no sounds. They had gone perhaps three-quarters of a mile, and had followed the sheep trail up to the crest of a little ridge, beyond which there seemed to be a sag which ran down into the narrow, rock-strewn valley. Joe had his bow in his hand, an arrow on the string, and Jack followed him, ready to shoot at an instant's warning. As they topped the ridge there was a clatter below them, and Joe, suddenly drawing back his right arm, let fly an arrow at something that Jack could not see. In a moment Jack stood beside him, and saw not more than fifty yards away, a sheep running hard, and with a dark smear on its side, just behind the fore-leg, which showed that it was wounded.
"Shoot him!" said Joe. "Shoot him, quick!" and Jack threw his gun to his shoulder, but just as his eye settled into the sights, the sheep staggered, came to its knees, rose and staggered on a few steps, and then fell on its side. Jack's shot was not needed.
"Hurrah!" he said to Joe, as he slapped him on the shoulder; "that was a good shot and a quick shot, too. I did not suppose anybody could shoot like that with a bow and arrow. I'll have to get you to teach me how to shoot, Joe. I'd a heap rather kill anything with a bow while I'm out here than use my gun. Wouldn't it be great to go out with the Indians and hunt buffalo with nothing but a bow and arrow?"
Joe smiled and seemed pleased, partly, perhaps, with his shot, and partly because Jack was so glad that he had made a good one. They went down over the steep, slipping stone slide to where the sheep had fallen, but it did not lie there, for in its dying struggles it had rolled over and over down the steep slope, until now it lay on its side on a little grassy bank close to the trickle of water that flowed through the ravine. The arrow which still remained in its side was broken.
"Well," said Joe, "we've got some meat, anyhow. Now we've got to butcher and carry it back to the horses. Are you pretty strong? Can you carry a pretty good load?"
"I don't know," said Jack. "I guess if we're going to take in the whole sheep we've got to make two trips of it."
"Yes," said Joe, "I guess that's so."
They butchered and skinned the sheep, a yearling ram, but when they divided it into two parts and each tried to shoulder one they found that the load was too heavy to be carried; so Joe took a hind quarter and Jack a fore quarter and the skin, and carried it back to a point on the mountain nearly above the horses. Then they returned and brought the second load.
While they were resting, Jack said to Joe: "What is there up on top, Joe? I'd like to get up there, and take a look over at the country. It's only about the middle of the day, is it?"
Joe looked at the sun, knowingly, and said: "That's it. Noon."
"Well," said Jack, "we've got three or four hours before we'll have to start home. Let's climb up on top."
"All right," said Joe; "let's do it."
Before long they started upward toward the foot of the reef, aiming for a place where the rocks seemed broken away and discoloured, as if water flowed down there at some time of the year. At Joe's suggestion, Jack left his coat and the handkerchief he wore about his neck spread out over the meat, for this, Joe told him, would keep the birds and animals from feeding on it. The climb up to the top of the reef was not nearly so hard as Jack had supposed it would be, and it seemed that it did not take them more than half an hour to gain the high table-land that formed the mountain's summit. Here they could see a long way in every direction. The mountain was a great shoulder thrust out toward the prairie from other higher mountains behind it. Its top was almost flat, and was covered with fine broken stones. One might ride a horse over it in almost any direction. No trees grew there and no grass. It was all gray rock. A few patches of snow still lay on it, although it was now almost midsummer, and in several deep valleys that pierced the great shoulder, deep snow banks were still white among the scattering pines. On either side of this shoulder was a deep, wide valley. In one, lay the great lake from which flowed the river that Hugh and Jack had crossed on their way to the camp, in the other was a considerable stream, with a few small lakes along its course, the valley itself being overgrown with timber, except for an occasional little open, grassy park. Stretching away far to the east lay the prairie, green for the most part, but with the ridges brown, and out of it, a little to the north of east, rose three shadowy masses, which Jack felt sure must be mountains.
"What are those, Joe?" he said, pointing to them.
"Oh," said Joe, "those are the Three Buttes—Sweet-grass Hills, you know. That's where the camp will go when they go to hunt buffalo."
"My!" said Jack, "you can see a long way, can't you?"
"Yes," said Joe, "plenty prairie, ain't there?"
"You bet! But it's cold up here, Joe," said Jack; "let's walk around a little. I'd like to walk over to the other side and look down into that other valley. It don't look as if anybody had ever been up there. It's just as wild as wild can be."
"No," said Joe, "not many people go up there. Sometimes Kutenais or Stonies come down from the north and go up there to hunt. Not often though."
"Is there much game there, Joe?"
"I don't know," was the answer, "but last year when I was camped here with my uncle, a little camp of Stonies came down, and went up there and stayed four days, and when they came back they had two moose, an elk, and lots of sheep and goats."
"Jerusalem!" said Jack; "there must be lots of game."
"Yes, I suppose there is; plenty for everybody to eat."
They walked over toward the other side of the shoulder, talking as they went, and as they passed down through a little hollow, suddenly a bird, about as big as a banty hen, brown and black, with some white on it, flew up from the ground and struck against Jack's knees, and then dropped down and began to flutter about at his feet. Joe sprang forward and struck at it with his bow, but Jack caught his hand and said: "Hold on, hold on; don't kill it; let's see what it means." They stood there for a moment or two and watched the little bird, and suddenly Jack said: "I believe that's a white-tailed ptarmigan, and it's got a nest, or young ones right here somewhere. Do you know what it is, Joe?"
"No," said Joe, "I don't know what you call it; I've seen plenty of them before; they live up here in the snow, and in winter they're all white; it's some kind of a chicken, I guess."
"Yes," said Jack, "that must be what it is. Ain't I glad I've seen one. I wish though we could find the nest, or see the little ones."
As he said this, Joe very slowly and carefully stooped down, and reaching out his hand grasped something between two of the stones, and then standing up again said, "Here's one."
It was the tiniest little chicken that Jack had ever seen, hardly bigger than his thumb, covered with fluffy yellow and brown down, and looking fearlessly at its captors with its bright brown eyes. The mother bird had drawn off a little bit while they were talking, but now seeing that one of her young was in danger, she rushed at Jack again, pecking furiously at his trousers, and sometimes holding them and flapping against his legs with her wing.
"Oh," said Jack, "isn't he a beauty; isn't he a perfect beauty. Wouldn't I give anything to carry half a dozen of those back to the States, and try to raise them; but it would be no good I suppose to take this one down; it never would live down on the prairie, and we couldn't get anything to feed it, anyhow."
"No," said Joe, "no good to try to raise it, and it's too small to eat."
"That's so," said Jack, and stooping down he opened his hand, when the little one ran nimbly over the rocks, followed much more slowly by its mother.
The boys went on over to the edge of the rocks and looked down into the wide valley below them; then they turned and walked a mile or two up toward the main range. Joe pointed out to Jack some places where sheep had recently stamped out beds and lain in them, but nothing living was seen. At length, as the sun began to sink toward the west, they went back to the point where they had ascended to the table-land, and going down to the meat, carried it down to their horses, packed it on them and returned to camp.