The surprise of Jasper Williams was overwhelming when he learned that these two lads had braved the dangers of the wilderness, week in and week out, just to find him, so as to get his signature to a document which Dick carried, safely sewed inside the lining of his hunting jacket.
“Of course I’ll be only too glad to put my name on it, if only we can get out of this bad scrape,” the scout declared, after he had heard the story, and shaken the hands of Dick and Roger Armstrong many times. “I know François Lascelles only too well, and it would give me great pleasure to balk his little game; but just now, my brave lads, it looks as if we’d furnish sport for the heathen at the torture post before many days go by; they’re feeling so angry at the whites for coming up here into their country without first making all manner of presents to them.”
At that Roger remembered to tell the scout what a slender hope he and his cousin were hugging to their hearts. Jasper Williams considered it well, but did not seem too sanguine.
“Something might come out of it,” he observed; “but I know Injun nature too well to think the chief will spare us for that reason alone. If the crowd wants to be amused, we’ll be made to run the gauntlet to-morrow at sunrise; and afterwards be burned at the stake, like as not. It’s something I always thought would happen to me. A borderer who has run up against Injuns as much as I have must look forward to the time he’ll be caught napping, as I was, and pay the penalty with his life. But I’m sorry for you, lads, because you’ve got mothers and fathers behind, that’ll mourn if you never come back again; while there’s none to weep for old Jasper Williams.”
Roger, who had been busy over at one side of the cabin, now called out:
“They’ve lighted a big fire there in the open space, and I can see a lot of the braves sitting down, cross-legged, around it. Do you think they’re going to hold a palaver, or council, to settle what’s to be done with us, Mr. Williams?”
“It looks that way, son,” replied the scout, with a touch of pity in his rough voice; “but I can tell better after I have taken a look myself.”
Both he and Dick had little trouble in finding crevices through which it was possible to observe all that was going on. The fire around which the Indians had commenced to gather was not so far removed from the strong lodge but the listening prisoners could hear all that took place.
Only the warriors or fighting men were allowed places in the several circles that presently surrounded the leaping flames. The boys and squaws had to stand back, and take no part in the proceedings.
Running Elk was there in plain view, as was also the medicine-man of the tribe, the latter decked out in his awe-inspiring decorations, that gave out a jingling sound every time he moved so much as an arm. As the medicine-man is usually the power behind the throne in every Indian village, he can generally be found at the right hand of the leader or chief, as an adviser. His favor is eagerly sought by braves and squaws, for it is popularly supposed that when angered he can bring down the wrath of Manitou upon the offender.
All this while there sounded the monotonous beating of tomtoms, or drums made of skins drawn tightly over hollow sections of the trunk of a tree. It was a weird sound, and particularly to those who, crouching behind the logs of the strong lodge, were looking upon the striking picture of these same Indians deciding what their fate should be.
For once Roger found no heart for talking, and it must be something beyond the ordinary that could quench his desire to express his feelings in words. Each of them merely sat there, looking at the strange scene. It was terrible, and at the same time not one of them could tear his eyes away from it, such was the fascination it possessed.
When all of the braves had assembled, the chief made a signal with his hand, at which the sound of the beating tomtoms stopped short. Then a red clay pipe was produced, and, upon being lighted by the medicine-man, was first passed to the chief, who sent out a puff of smoke toward each of the four points of the compass. Then the pipe was passed to the next in line, and so on, until, after a long time, every one in the first circle, evidently the leading warriors of the tribe, had smoked. (Note 10.)
When the pipe was put away, a brave leaped to his feet, and began an impassioned harangue, making many gestures.
“He is demanding that all of us be put to the torture in the morning,” declared Jasper Williams, who had a fair knowledge of many of the Indian tongues. Roger shut his teeth hard together, and repressed the groan that almost escaped him.
Another and yet another warrior followed the first. Some spoke more soberly, and these were the elder ones; perhaps they were counselling that it might be well to keep the whites prisoners, and demand certain favors of the invaders as a recompense for sparing their lives. But the fiery younger element seemed to be vastly in the majority, as Dick realized when a dozen had expressed their views.
What the thoughts of the two boys were would be hard to say. Doubtless their minds turned backward to the happy homes, far away on the bank of the Missouri near its junction with the greater Mississippi; and they could picture those they loved so dearly, waiting as the weeks went by for some tidings of the brave sons and brothers who had taken upon themselves the dangerous task of finding the one man who could save the homesteads from the scheming French trader.
“It’s all over!” exclaimed Roger, with a gulp; and the next moment a din arose that must indeed indicate that the council had been declared ended.
“What did they decide, Mr. Williams?” asked Dick, trying his best to keep his voice from betraying the fact that he was trembling all over with excitement.
The scout groped in the darkness until he could put a hand on the shoulder of each boy. He had bad news to communicate, and in his simple way wished to give them what little encouragement the touch of his hand might possess.
“I’m afraid the decision was against us, lads,” he said, solemnly.
“Then we will never live to see the home folks again,” spoke Roger, between his set teeth.
Dick was surprised to find how bravely his cousin took it, and this convinced him that much of Roger’s nervousness was on the surface, and that, when it came to a pinch, he could show just as strong a front as the next one.
“But the council has not been dismissed yet, for the braves are still sitting there as we saw them,” Dick observed at this juncture.
“Unless I am much mistaken,” Jasper Williams went on, “they are sending guards to fetch us out. It was not fitting that we should be present when they were deciding our fate; but, now that a judgment has been rendered, we may be led forth to hear sentence pronounced by the great chief. My lads, you know what the red heathen think of any one who shows the white feather. Be brave now, I beg of you, for the honor of the white race. Show them that paleface boys can stand pain just as well as Injuns are taught to do.”
Just then the door of the strong lodge opened, and warriors, coming in, seized hold of the three prisoners; for the Wolf had evidently been confined in some other prison, perhaps bound hand and foot, since his fate did not have to be debated. He was doomed from the first, being a hated Mandan.
So they were led forth. Roger, determined to prove that he was a son of his father, shut his teeth hard together, and made up his mind that nothing these savage Sioux could do would make him cry out. Dick managed to lock his arm in that of his cousin, knowing that even such contact would give the other heart.
Escape was impossible. All they could do was to meet their fate bravely. And if Roger remembered what his cousin had said about it being the darkest just before dawn, he must have smiled bitterly as he contemplated the utter impossibility of anything happening to save them.
And yet, the bread which they had cast upon the waters so long ago was due to return to them, here, now, in this most important crisis of their lives.
They were hustled through the crowd of squaws and boys that had gathered outside the triple circle of warriors. Numbers struck at them; others pinched them maliciously, and threw dirt in their faces.
Then suddenly it seemed to Dick that a miracle had been wrought. A squaw darted forward, threw one of the guards aside, and, seizing hold of Roger, looked eagerly in his face, after which she appeared greatly excited.
And Dick felt his heart give a great bound, as hope once more took possession there; for he had recognized the face of this old squaw. It was Karmeet, whom last he remembered seeing seated at their camp fire, and, with the Indian girl, Dove Eyes, partaking of their humble supper, to afterwards disappear so mysteriously in the night!
The most tremendous excitement followed; for the old squaw, still clinging to Roger, was appealing to the chief. Running Elk was listening, too, and seemed greatly interested in what she was saying.
In fact, the entire assemblage was spell-bound; warriors and squaws bent their heads forward, to better catch all that she said, and whenever Karmeet paused to catch her breath there could be heard loud sighs.
Dick was thrilled by the sudden change in their condition. Although he could not tell the meaning of a single word the old squaw spoke, it was very evident from her gesticulations that she was telling the story of how these white boys had saved the lives of herself and the Indian girl when the savage panther was ready to spring down upon them; and afterwards entertained them beside their camp fire, feeding them, and even covering them with a blanket to keep the night dews off.
Yes, as the story progressed, and she became even more excited, he could tell how she was demanding their lives as a just recompense for their gallantry toward herself and her girl companion; for she finally covered both of them with her hands, and then appealed to Running Elk.
The great chief of the warlike Sioux seemed to be considering; but Dick, knowing as much of Indian character as he did, felt that the case was already decided. The honor of an Indian would never allow their being injured after they had shown themselves friends of the Sioux.
“Give yourselves no further uneasiness, lads,” said Jasper Williams, heartily, at that critical moment. “You have been lucky enough to do a great service to the sister and the child of Running Elk himself, for they bear that relationship to the chief. He is bound to free you after that. And every Injun in the village will want to shake hands with you. I would that my chances were half as bright.”
“We will refuse to go without you, Jasper,” declared Dick, firmly; for he had already taken a great liking to the scout; and besides, was not Williams a most important factor in the fulfillment of the mission on which he and Roger had started forth from the settlement away down the Missouri?
“Listen to what the great chief is about to say,” remarked the scout, forgetting that he was the only one of the trio able to interpret the Sioux tongue.
But, since all Indians make considerable use of gestures in their oratory, it was not so very difficult, after all, to comprehend the tenor of what Running Elk said.
First he asked his sister several quick questions, to all of which she replied eagerly, pointing first to Roger, and then his cousin; after which she led Dove Eyes forward, and the little girl, too, recognized the lads. After he had quite satisfied himself that there could be no mistake, the Sioux chief addressed himself to the assembled warriors. He grew quite impassioned in his talk; and often, when he came to a pause, a chorus of grunts answered him. But Dick noticed that all the nods of those grim heads were up and down; and, wise boy that he was, this told him that the braves were in complete accord with what Running Elk was saying.
Finally the chief arose deliberately to his feet, though none of the others who were sitting made a move. He walked over to where the three whites stood, and held out his hand to Roger first of all; for had not his sister declared that it was he whose “shooting-stick” had killed the panther, and whose blanket had been used to cover their forms from the night air?
“Brother!”
The word fell from the lips of the chief, and rather staggered both lads, for they had not dreamed that he knew a bit of English. But his meaning was plainly indicated. After that they were not to be looked upon in the light of enemies, but honored friends. An Indian always pays back a debt, whether of evil or good.
Then the chief turned to Dick, and performed the same service. The latter was shrewd enough to know that, if anything was to be done for Jasper Williams, now was the accepted time. He had heard his father often say “If you want to accomplish anything you must strike while the iron is hot.”
So he immediately threw one arm about the shoulders of the scout, and, looking the great chief squarely in the face, indicated Williams as he spoke the words:
“Him brother too!”
Running Elk knew what was meant. He hesitated, because there had been no mention made of the scout taking part in the rescue of those who belonged to his immediate family. But from the warriors arose a chorus of sounds, as though they had been swept off their feet by the thrilling story of the squaw; and were willing to do the thing handsomely. So presently, in a less enthusiastic way, Running Elk held out his hand to Jasper, who immediately seized upon it, knowing as he did that his life was to be spared.
After that it was easy to communicate, for Williams could act as interpreter. He answered all the questions of the chief, and even tried to explain just why the expedition, led by Captain Lewis, was in the country, telling Running Elk that they had no designs on the land of the Sioux, but were simply passing through, and that it would likely be a great many years before he would see another paleface in all that section.
No doubt what the scout told Running Elk would prove of great value, later, to the exploring party, since it opened the eyes of the Sioux chief to certain facts he had not known before. It was likely to keep the Sioux from going on the warpath against the little band of daring whites—at least this particular branch of them—and that would be worth something in the long winter months, while the men of the party had to do more or less hunting in order to supply the camp with fresh food.
There was one thing more Dick thought to do. The Wolf was one of his company, and he could not bear the thought of abandoning him to his fate. So he urged upon Jasper to try to have him included in the party when they went forth from the village of the Sioux on the morrow.
Perhaps, after all, one poor Mandan brave did not amount to much, in the estimation of Running Elk, who thought he should do the thing up completely while about it; for lo, and behold, Wolf was brought forth at the time of their departure, though the populace that watched their going had only frowns for the Indian.
Roger’s last act, after again shaking the hand of the chief, was to pass over to where the old squaw was standing, a smile on her broad brown face, and take her hand in his, as though he would try to express his gratitude; after which he bent down and kissed the little Indian girl who had learned her first words of English from him, while seated at their lonely camp fire that night in the timber.
He would often remember Dove Eyes, and her eagerness to learn to speak the language of the palefaces.
Thus it was that the four went out of the Sioux village unharmed, even honored with loud yells that might be taken for the Indian way of cheering. Jasper Williams declared that it was the nearest approach to a miracle he ever expected to see in all his days; and that the kind deed which the two lads had done on that other occasion had been returned to them many fold.
And so the bread cast upon the waters had come back to them after many days. No matter how long they might live, Dick and Roger would always believe that it paid to stand up for the weak, and even risk their lives in defense of the helpless. Only for that little happening what might not have been their fate on this morning that saw them started back toward the Mandan town?
Of course they reached the camp in good time, and great was the astonishment of the explorers when they heard that the boys and Williams had been prisoners in the village of the great Sioux chief, Running Elk, who until then had evinced the most bitter hostility toward the whites, laboring under the belief, which was fostered by the half-breed traders, that they had come to steal away the lands of the redmen.
Jasper Williams gladly signed the paper Dick had with him, in the presence of both Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, who were only too pleased to add their honored names as witnesses.
“I must say,” remarked the soldier leader of the expedition, as he shook the hand of each of the boys cordially, after this operation had been duly carried out, and the precious paper carefully placed away in a pocket of Dick’s hunting tunic, “that I never did anything with greater satisfaction in all my life, because you boys have certainly shown yourselves to be a credit to your brave grandfather, in taking your lives in your hands, and venturing all the way up into this unknown wilderness, upon the noble mission of saving the homes of your people.”
“Yes,” added his associate, just as warmly, as he too insisted upon squeezing the hands of the cousins, “and if, after mature deliberation, you decide to remain over with the expedition until spring, and go with us to the wonderful Western sea, across the mighty mountains of which we have all heard so much, depend on it you will find a warm welcome here. For we have already come to regard you with affection, and nothing would please us more.”
Dick looked at Roger, and the latter smiled happily, for to tell the truth the heart of the more impulsive lad was very strongly set upon remaining with these intrepid men. Deep down in his soul was planted the love for looking on new and wonderful sights; and for years Roger had watched the glowing sun sink to rest night after night with a secret hope that some day he might be given the opportunity to follow its track, and gaze upon sights that the eyes of white men had never before beheld.
And now that chance lay at his door, if only Dick would decide to stay.
Meanwhile Jasper Williams was explaining just how it came that his signature was so necessary on the paper which meant so much to the Armstrongs.
It seemed that his mother had been connected with a French family, and that, in taking title to the property which he settled on near the St. Louis trading post, David Armstrong had neglected to properly secure the signature of Jasper’s parents, as would have been wise.
As they were both gone long since, the only one who could attach his signature to the document was Jasper himself; otherwise the property could be taken possession of, after due process of law, by any one who might have brought it in. This the scheming Lascelles must have learned, and the first thing old David knew of the matter was a notification that, unless he wished to be evicted in the spring, he would have to purchase the several farms over again, paying what was considered an enormous price in those pioneer days.
Of course, now that the precious signature of Jasper Williams, son of Helene Villefue, was properly affixed to the paper, David Armstrong could afford to snap his fingers at the crafty French trader, and defy him. When the scout made this affirmation it gave the two boys the greatest satisfaction possible.
“We have nothing to regret in deciding to make this trip, have we, Dick?” exclaimed the impulsive Roger.
“I should say not,” replied his cousin; “and if we had to do the whole thing over again, even knowing how close to death we should be brought, I am sure neither of us would hesitate for a second. And to think that now our homes will never be taken away from our mothers. That was the cruel part of it; and for one I can never forgive that French trader, François Lascelles, for trying to do such a rascally thing.”
“And as he is somewhere up in this country, as we have reason to believe,” added Roger, “looking for Jasper Williams with the intention of trying to keep him from signing his name to this paper, why, we may run across him sooner or later—that is, of course, if we decide to remain over with the expedition, which I truly hope may be the case.”
“We will take a couple of days to talk it over,” was all Dick would say; but in his eyes shone a light that gave Roger great hope.
And in the end that was the way it turned out, much to the delight of the younger lad, who would have been grievously disappointed had it been decided best for himself and cousin to return home that fall.
The two captains had interested themselves greatly in the welfare of the boys, whom they had come to admire very much. They fancied that having these lads in camp, with their cheery ways and sunny faces, would be a pleasure for all concerned during the long winter days and nights. And accordingly they used what influence they could command to get Dick to look at the thing reasonably.
The result was as might have been expected. A picked party had been made up to start down the river to St. Louis in a boat secured from the Mandans, with a message for the President, and the boys were influenced to entrust their precious document to the charge of one of the men, who was commanded by Captain Lewis to surely deliver it, together with letters from the boys, directly into the hands of Grandfather Armstrong, before starting for Washington.
For Dick and Roger had succumbed to the great temptation to accept the generous offer of the leader of the explorers, and remain over the winter with them, going on in the spring to the distant Pacific, and seeing those wonderful Rocky Mountains of which they had heard such amazing stories.
This they eventually did; and it may be well understood that such a continuation of their journey opened up a new field of adventures for our heroes, some of which will be found related in the pages of the next volume of this series, to be called, “The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone.”
And while they had seen no more of the half-breed, Batiste Dupuy, or had the ill luck to run across the French trader, François Lascelles, while ascending the Missouri, it might be that those same individuals would once more come forward later on, to annoy Dick and Roger under the false impression that they had not yet secured the signature of Jasper Williams to the document.
Free from the care that had so long been oppressing them, the boys could now look forward to a long period of enjoyment as the fall drew on, and they became better acquainted with their Mandan friends, and accompanied the warriors on many of their hunts. And while they are thus enjoying themselves to the full, we will take our leave of them.
THE END.
Most of the vast country west of the Mississippi River was owned in 1803 by France, Spain having made a secret treaty with France by which she ceded the territory of Louisiana, embracing the present States of Montana, North and South Dakota, Nebraska, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Indian Territory, and part of Colorado. President Jefferson, learning of this treaty, sent to France a commission empowered to purchase the island on which New Orleans stood; and also the right of a passage to the sea. Napoleon Bonaparte responded with an offer to sell all of Louisiana to the United States for twenty million dollars. After bargaining for awhile the vast territory was purchased for fifteen million dollars. Bonaparte was delighted. “This accession of territory,” said he, rubbing his hands, “strengthens forever the power of the United States. I have given England a rival upon the sea, which will sooner or later humble her pride.”
Very few people realized the value of the newly bought possessions, and many roundly abused President Jefferson for making the purchase. But the Western settlers were overjoyed. “At last,” they said, “we have room for expansion. Hurrah for Jefferson!” Highly delighted at his success, the President recommended to Congress, in a confidential message, that a party should be dispatched to trace the Missouri River to its source, cross the Rocky Mountains, and go to the Pacific Coast. The plan was approved, Captain Meriwether Lewis, the President’s private secretary, being appointed to lead the expedition, which was originally intended to consist of nine young Kentuckians, fourteen United States soldiers, two French voyageurs to serve as hunters and interpreters, and a black servant for Captain William Clark, who was a joint commander. On the 24th of May, 1804, the little band of adventurous souls, augmented by additional frontiersmen, left the mouth of the Missouri, and struck out toward the unknown West, with three boats, one a covered one, to carry their possessions.
During its long course from the far away Rockies to its junction with the mighty Mississippi, the Missouri River penetrates every variety of country one can think of. In many places it passes through vast stretches of prairie land, where, as far as the eye can reach, the country is like a billowy sea, being covered with grass. Then again it cuts a channel between rocks that form rapids quite as dangerous as those of the Upper Nile, and known as the Cataracts. There are banks that are heavily timbered; and even low places, swampy, and almost impossible of navigation for canoes. Much difficulty is encountered in avoiding the islands that crop up, some covered only with rank water grass, others bearing a luxuriant growth of trees, such as sycamore, cottonwood, walnut, and others. Sand-bars form and disappear daily, so that a pilot never knows what he has before him in trying to take a boat along this erratic stream. And it was up this swift current that the daring explorers, led by Lewis and Clark, ventured to push their three boats, day after day, as the summer months glided on, facing perils of every description, and bent on carrying out the plans which the President himself had personally approved, if indeed the entire scheme was not of his own conception.
Well might Roger say this, for at that day, and much later also, it was no uncommon thing for a ranger on the prairie to see, from some butte, a drove of bison rolling by that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon, and take hours in passing. The Indians said they were as many as the grains of sand on some of the bars that could be found along the erratic course of the great Missouri River. They hunted them in and out of season, and killed tens of thousands, no doubt, every year, often driving an entire herd over some precipice for the sake of securing the tongues alone, which were esteemed a great delicacy. But up to the introduction of the repeating firearm, at about the time the Central Pacific Railroad was being put through, there seemed no perceptible diminution to the vast number of the shaggy beasts. But civilization came and finished the business; and at the present time, save for a few scattered specimens, in small droves, numbering some hundreds in all, the once famous bison, called wrongly the buffalo, has been entirely exterminated.
The Mandan tribe of Indians has always been more or less of a mystery to those historians who have tried to figure where the people inhabiting the country at the time of the discovery of America, and its later development, originally came from. They were of a much lighter hue than any of the other Indians, and, while some students have declared their positive belief that they must have sprung from the lost tribe of Israel, others claim to see certain similarities in customs and even language between the Mandans and the Welsh. These latter claim that at some time in the remote past a vessel with a Welsh crew must have been blown across the Atlantic ocean, and into the Gulf of Mexico, by a severe storm; and that the survivors made their way up the Mississippi, finally marrying into a tribe of Indians; and that their descendants still clung to some of the old-country ways. It is very curious how many very plausible reasons can be found for believing such a thing as this. It may be true; but the point has never been wholly proved; and so the origin of the “White Indians” still remains shrouded in mystery to this day. The Mandans suffered fearfully from the smallpox epidemic after they began to have intimate relations with the whites; and, in fact, the once great and powerful tribe has been almost exterminated.
Salt-licks, or saline springs, used to be very common in the early days of the pioneers, and many of the histories of those times make mention of them. Even in the African wilderness certain animals will come many miles just to get a chance to lick up the salt at a certain place. The same is true of numerous places in our Wild West of to-day. Deer, in particular, are fond of coming to a “lick.” The craving for a taste of salt seems to induce them to cover vast distances. Hunters, knowing this love for salt on the part of game, often hide in ambush near such a magnet, and shoot down wild animals with the greatest of ease. Indeed, in some States the practice of lying in wait at such a place is looked upon as unsportsmanlike, and frowned down upon, even to the extent of making laws for the protection of salt-hungry game.
As the two boys, Dick and Roger, discovered for themselves, when fortune allowed them to spend some time in a Mandan village, these Indians had many ways in common with other tribes, even while in certain traits they differed greatly from the Blackfeet, the Sioux, the Shoshones, and the Pawnees. One of these consisted of the customary medicine-man, who was supposed to be in direct communication with Manitou, or the Great Spirit. When a storm came along, and the thunder roared, this old humbug would pretend to be talking with the Great Father above; and, of course, would interpret as he pleased what the Spirit was supposed to say in reply to his questions. He always dressed in a hideous costume, and looked as much like the Evil One as any person could imagine, with his paint, his buffalo tails, his fanciful adornments, and often the horns which he assumed for occasions. His principal office as the “doctor,” or medicine-man, is to frighten away the devils that are supposed to be afflicting sick people. He would go through with a tremendous amount of nonsense, and, if the sick person got well, he had the credit of working a miracle; whereas, if he or she died, it was the will of the Great Spirit! Nor is the medicine-man confined to the Indian tribes of North America; for the same species of charlatan has been discovered in the heart of blackest Africa, among the negro nations inhabiting that region.
The Mandans had many strange habits, some of which must have come down to them from remote ancestors; while others were doubtless the result of their living in the country where wolves and coyotes abounded, and had to be guarded against, even in the disposal of the bodies of their dead. When a warrior died his body was wrapped in several buffalo skins, and the last one was tightly secured with thongs. Then the funeral cortege took up its line of march for the Indian cemetery, where, with fitting ceremonies, the body was secured to a platform erected on four posts, and usually some five or six feet from the ground. Here the widow would repair day after day, communing with the spirit of the departed one, and leaving a bowl of hot succotash, a mixture of corn and beans. This was intended as food to sustain the brave on his long journey to the Land of Shades. The steam arising and disappearing was believed to be inhaled by the unseen spirit; and, of course, when the bowl was found empty in the morning, having been cleaned out by wandering animals, the Indians chose to think that the dead warrior had in some way devoured its contents during the still hours of the night.
It was not for many years after the exploring expedition of Lewis and Clark passed through the country of the fierce and warlike Sioux tribe, that these Indians learned how to handle firearms. At that day they depended almost solely upon their bows and arrows, spears, tomahawks and knives, to bring down game, and fight their battles with other tribes with whom they might chance to be at war. They gave the early settlers great trouble, and many an uprising was followed by massacres. As late as the seventies they were a power to be reckoned with by the United States Government; and the memory of the massacre of General Custer’s gallant command will always be one of the saddest records of border warfare. At that time it is said that there were several thousand Sioux warriors under Sitting Bull, which fact is sufficient to explain why the Sioux have always been held in such fear along the frontier of the Great Northwest.
This ceremony of smoking the pipe at their councils has always been a leading characteristic of Indian nature. When a stranger visits a tribe, and is to be treated as a friend, he is invited to smoke the peace pipe; and this really consists in puffing smoke in the direction of the north, east, south, and west. There is some sort of meaning to it, of course, and it is understood to stand for the promise on the part of the participants that they will remain friends for all time, whether the wind blows from one quarter of the compass or the other. It signifies complete concord between them. Besides, this is a very sacred institution; and like the breaking of bread among other peoples, or the passing of salt with the Bedouins, or Arabs of the desert, goes to signify that the bonds between those assembled must not be severed lightly. In the case of the council convened to settle the fate of the white prisoners, possibly some other meaning might have been attached to this puffing of the smoke toward the four quarters.
[1] The notes will be found at the end of the book.
[2] See “The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio.”
[3] See “The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes.”
[4] See “The Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi.”
[5] See “Pioneer Boys of the Mississippi.”
Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy Corner Series, “The Little Colonel,” “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and “The Giant Scissors,” in a single volume.
These 12 volumes, boxed as a set, $18.00.
New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches.
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend of Camelback Mountain.
THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their Daughters.
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: A Fairy Play for Old and Young.
There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of these six stories which were originally included in six of the “Little Colonel” books.
JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE. By Annie Fellows Johnston. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.
A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author’s best-known books.
| Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series | $1.50 |
| Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold | 3.00 |
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.
Published in response to many inquiries from readers of the Little Colonel books as to where they could obtain a “Good Times Book” such as Betty kept.
A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. There are many of them and each has several changes of costume, so that the happy group can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series.
ASA HOLMES; Or, At the Cross-Roads. By Annie Fellows Johnston.
With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.