THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL - COLONEL HENRY INMAN (surface ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Considering The Case, Was About To Move Away, When A Hand

Was Laid On His Shoulder, And Turning Round There Stood Before Him

An Indian In full War-Paint.

 

 

 

The Greeting Was Friendly, For The Young Savage Was The Brother Of

Baptiste'S Love, To Whom He Had Given Many Valuable Presents During

The Past Season.

 

 

 

"My White Brother Is Very Wakeful; He Rises Early."

 

 

 

Baptiste Laughed, And Replied: "Yes, Because My Lodge Is Empty.

If I Had Unami For A Wife, I Would Not Have To Get Out Before The Sun;

And I Would Always Have A Soft Seat For Her Brother; He Will Be A

Great Warrior."

 

 

 

The Young Brave Shook His Head Gravely, As Be Pointed to His Belt,

Where Not A Scalp Was To Be Seen, And Said: "Five Moons Have Gone

To Sleep And The Arapahoe Hatchet Has Not Been Raised.  The Blackfeet

Are Dogs, And Hide In their Holes."

 

 

 

Without Adding anything To This Hint That None Of The Young Men Had

Been Able To Fulfil Their Vows, The Disconsolate Savage Led the Way

To The Camp Of The Other Arapahoes, His Companions In the Quest For

Scalps.  Baptiste Was Very Glad To See The Face Of A Fellow-Creature

Once More, And He Cheerfully Followed the Footsteps Of The Young Brave,

Which Were Directed away From The Medicine Lodge Toward The Rocky

Canyon Which He Had Already Travelled that Morning, Where In the Very

Centre Of The Dark Defile, And Within Twenty Feet Of Where He Had

Recently Passed, Was The Camp Of The Disappointed band.  Baptiste Was

Cordially Received, And Invited to Share The Meal Of Which The Party

Were About To Partake, After Which The Pipe Was Passed around.

In A Little While The Indians Began To Talk Among Themselves By Signs,

Which Made Baptiste Feel Somewhat Uncomfortable, For It Was Apparent

That He Was The Object Of Their Interest.

 

 

 

They Had Argued that Brown'S Skin Indicated that He Belonged to The

Great Tribe Of Their Natural Enemies, And With The Blood Of A White

On Their Garments, They Would Have Fulfilled the Terms Of Their Vow

To Their Friends And The Great Spirit.

 

 

 

Noticing The Trend Of The Debate, Which Would Lead His Friend Into

Trouble, The Brother Of Unami Arose, And Waving His Hand Said:--

 

 

 

"The Arapahoe Is A Warrior; His Feet Outstrip The Fleetest Horse;

His Arrow Is As The Lightning Of The Great Spirit; He Is Very Brave.

But A Cloud Is Between Him And The Sun; He Cannot See His Enemy;

There Is Yet No Scalp In his Lodge.  The Great Spirit Is Good;

He Sends A Victim, A Man Whose Skin Is White, But His Heart Is Very

Red; The Pale-Face Is A Brother, And His Long Knife Is Turned from

His Friends, The Arapahoes; But The Great Spirit Is All-Powerful.

My Brother"--Pointing To Baptiste--"Is Very Full Of Blood; He Can Spare

A Little To Stain The Blankets Of The Young Men, And His Heart Shall

Still Be Warm; I Have Spoken."

 

 

 

As Baptiste Expressed it: "Sacre Enfant De Garce; Damn, De Ting Vas

Agin My Grain, But De Young Arapahoe He Have Saved my Life."

 

 

 

Loud Acclamation Followed the Speech Of Unami'S Brother, And Many Of

Those Most Clamorous Against The White Trapper, Being actuated by

The Earnest Desire Of Returning Home With Their Vow Accomplished,

When They Would Be Received into The List Of Warriors, And Have Wives

And Other Honours, Were Unanimous In agreeing To The Proposed plan.

 

 

 

A Flint Lancet Was Produced, Baptiste'S Arm Was Bared, And The Blood

Which Flowed from The Slight Wound Was Carefully Distributed, And

Scattered over The Robes Of The Delighted arapahoes.

 

 

 

The Scene Which Followed was Quite Unexpected to Baptiste, Who Was

Only Glad To Escape The Death To Which The Majority Had Doomed him.

The Indians, Perfectly Satisfied that Their Vow Of Shedding an Enemy'S

Blood Had Been Fulfilled, Were All Gratitude; And To Testify That

Gratitude In a Substantial Manner Each Man Sought His Pack, And Laid

At The Feet Of The Surprised baptiste A Rich Present.  One Gave An

Otter Skin, Another That Of A Buffalo, And So On Until His Wealth In

Furs Outstripped his Most Sanguine Expectations From His Hunt.

The Brother Of Unami Stood Passively Looking On Until All The Others

Had Successively Honoured his Guest, When He Advanced toward Baptiste,

Leading By Its Bridle A Magnificent Horse, Fully Caparisoned, And

A Large Pack-Mule.  To Refuse Would Have Been The Most Flagrant Breach

Of Indian Etiquette, And Beside, Brown Was Too Alive To The Advantage

That Would Accrue To Him To Be Other Than Very Thankful.

 

 

 

The Camp Was Then Broken Up, And The Kind Savages Were Soon Lost To

Baptiste'S Sight As They Passed down The Canyon; And He, As Soon As He

Had Gained a Little Strength, For He Was Weak From The Blood He Had

Shed in the Good Cause, Mounted his Horse, After Loading The Mule

With His Gifts, And Made The Best Of His Way To His Lonely Lodge,

Where He Remained several Days.  He Then Sold His Furs At A Good

Price, As It Was So Early In the Season, Bartered for A Large Quantity

Of Knives, Beads, Powder, And Balls, And Returned to The Arapahoe

Village, Where The Horse Was Considered a Fair Exchange For The

Pretty Unami; And From That Day, For Over Thirty Years, They Lived

As Happy As Any Couple In the Highest Civilization.

 

 

 

The Fate Of The Pueblo, Where The Trappers And Hunters Had Such Good

Times In the Halcyon Days Of The Border, Like That Which Befell

Nearly All The Trading-Posts And Ranches On The Old Santa Fe Trail,

Was To Be Partially Destroyed by The Savages.  During The Early

Months Of The Winter Of 1854, The Utes Swept Down Through The Arkansas

Valley, Leaving a Track Of Blood Behind Them, And Frightening The

Settlers So Thoroughly That Many Left The Country Never To Return.

The Outbreak Was As Sudden As It Was Devastating.  The Pueblo Was

Captured by The Savages, And Every Man, Woman, And Child In it

Murdered, With The Exception Of One Aged mexican, And He Was So Badly

Wounded that He Died in a Few Days.

 

 

 

His Story Was That The Utes Came To The Gates Of The Fort On Christmas

Morning, Professing The Greatest Friendship, And Asking Permission

To Be Allowed to Come Inside And Hold A Peace Conference.  All Who

Were In the Fort At The Time Were Mexicans, And As Their Cupidity

Led them To Believe That They Could Do Some Advantageous Trading

With The Indians, They Foolishly Permitted the Whole Band To Enter.

The Result Was That A Wholesale Massacre Followed.  There Were

Seventeen Persons In all Quartered there, Only One Of Whom Escaped

Death--The Old Man Referred to--And A Woman And Her Two Children,

Who Were Carried off As Captives; But Even She Was Killed before The

Savages Had Gone A Mile From The Place.  What Became Of The Children

Was Never Known; They Probably Met The Same Fate.

 

Chapter XV (Uncle John Smith)

Many Of The Men Of The Border Were Blunt In manners, Rude In speech,

Driven To The Absolute Liberty Of The Far West With Better Natures

Shattered and Hopes Blasted, To Seek In the Exciting Life Of The

Plainsman And Mountaineer Oblivion Of Some Incidents Of Their Youthful

Days, Which Were Better Forgotten.  Yet These Aliens From Society,

These Strangers To The Refinements Of Civilization, Who Would Tear Off

A Bloody Scalp Even With Grim Smiles Of Satisfaction, Were Fine

Fellows, Full Of The Milk Of Human Kindness, And Would Share Their

Last Slapjack With A Hungry Stranger.

 

 

 

Uncle John Smith, As He Was Known To Every Trapper, Trader, And

Hunter From The Yellowstone To The Gila, Was One Of The Most Famous

And Eccentric Men Of The Early Days.  In 1826, As A Boy, He Ran Away

From St. Louis With A Party Of Santa Fe Traders, And So Fascinated

Was He With The Desultory And Exciting Life, That He Chose To Sit

Cross-Legged, Smoking The Long Indian Pipe, In the Comfortable

Buffalo-Skin Teepee, Rather Than Cross Legs On The Broad Table Of

His Master, A Tailor To Whom He Had Been Apprenticed when He Took

French Leave From St. Louis.

 

 

 

He Spent His First Winter With The Blackfeet Indians, But Came Very

Near Losing His Scalp In their Continual Quarrels, And Therefore

Allied himself With The More Peaceable Sioux.  Once While On The

Trail Of A Horse-Stealing Band Of Arapahoes Near The Head Waters

Of The Arkansas, The Susceptible Young Hunter Fell In love With

A Very Pretty Cheyenne Squaw, Married her, And Remained true To The

Object Of His Early Affection During all His Long And Eventful Life,

Extending Over A Period Of Forty Years.  For Many Decades He Lived

With His Dusky Wife As The Indians Did, Having Been Adopted by The

Tribe.  He Owned a Large Number Of Horses, Which Constituted the

Wealth Of The Plains Indians, Upon The Sale Of Which He Depended

Almost Entirely For His Subsistence.  He Became Very Powerful In the

Cheyenne Nation; Was Regarded as A Chief, Taking an Active Part In

The Councils, And Exercising Much Authority.  His Excellent Judgment

As A Trader With The Various Bands Of Indians While He Was Employed

By The Great Fur Companies Made His Services Invaluable In the

Strange Business Complications Of The Remote Border.  Besides

Understanding The Cheyenne Language As Well As His Native Tongue,

He Also Spoke Three Other Indian Dialects, French, And Spanish, But

With Many Western Expressions That Sometimes Grated harshly Upon

The Grammatical Ear.

 

 

 

He Became A Sort Of Autocrat On The Plains And In the Mountains; And

For An Indian Or Mexican To Attempt To Effect A Trade Without Uncle

John Smith Having Something To Say About It, And Its Conditions, Was

Hardly Possible.  The New Mexicans Often Came In small Parties To His

Indian Village, Their Burros Packed with Dry Pumpkin, Corn, Etc.,

To Trade For Buffalo-Robes, Bearskins, Meat, And Ponies; And Smith,

Who Knew His Power, Exacted tribute, Which Was Always Paid.  At One

Time, However, When For Some Reason A Party Of Strange Mexicans

Refused, Uncle John Harangued the People Of The Village, And Called

The Young Warriors Together, Who Emptied every Sack Of Goods Belonging

To The Cowering Mexicans On The Ground, Smith Ordering The Women And

Children To Help Themselves, An Order Which Was Obeyed with Alacrity.

The Frightened mexicans Left Hurriedly For El Valle De Taos, Whence

They Had Come, Crossing Themselves And Uttering Thanks To Heaven For

Having Retained their Scalps.  This And Other Similar Cases So

Intimidated the Poor Greasers, And Impressed them So Deeply With

A Sense Of Smith'S Power, That, Ever After, His Permission To Trade

Was Craved by A Special Deputation Of The Parties, Accompanied by

Peace-Offerings Of Corn, Pumpkin, And Pinole.  At One Time, When

Smith Was Journeying By Himself A Day'S Ride From The Cheyenne Village,

He Was Met By A Party Of Forty Or More Corn Traders, Who, Instead Of

Putting Such A Bane To Their Prospects Speedily Out Of The Way,

Gravely Asked him If They Could Proceed, And Offered him Every Third

Robe They Had To Accompany Them, Which He Did.  Indeed, He Became So

Regardless Of Justice, In his Condescension To The Natives Of

New Mexico, That The Governor Of That Province Offered a Reward Of

Five Hundred dollars For Him Alive Or Dead, But Fear Of The Cheyennes

Was So Prevalent That His Capture Was Never Even Attempted.

 

 

 

During Sheridan'S Memorable Winter Campaign Against The Allied tribes

In 1868-69, The Old Man, For He Was Then About Sixty, Was My Guide

And Interpreter.  He Shared my Tent And Mess, A Most Welcome Addition

To The Few Who Sat At My Table, And Beguiled many A Weary Hour At

Night, After Our Tedious Marches Through The Apparently Interminable

Sand Dunes And Barren Stretches Of Our Monotonous Route, With His

Tales Of That Period, More Than Half A Century Ago, When Our

Mid-Continent Region Was As Little Known As The Topography Of The

Planet Mars.

 

 

 

At The Close Of December, 1868, A Few Weeks After The Battle Of The

Washita, I Was Camping With My Command On The Bank Of That Historic

Stream In the