Page:Rocky Mountain life.djvu/76



On being answered in the affirmative, he commenced crossing to join us.

Plunging into the river with his horse, he had proceeded about midway of the stream, when the panting beast suddenly sank into the quicksand, throwing its rider head foremost into the water. At length, having effected a ford, he hurried up to us, profusely dripping with wet, as evidence of the thoroughness of his recent drenching.

First shaking hands with the company, he began to inquire about liquor, affirming the waggons contained that article, and adding, it was "right the Long-knife should bring the fire-water to give to the red man," as did the Bad-medicine, —but it was wrong to sell it. For his part he would not buy the fire-water. He would buy blankets, knives, beads, and ammunition, not the fire-water; but the Long-knife should give it to him.

The personage thus introduced was one of the chiefs of the Brulé Sioux, and sported the name of Marto-cogershne, or Brave Bear. He was a turbulent fellow, that proved the pest of his village traders. Slim and spare-made in person, he was somewhat pale and sickly looking, and seemed about thirty years of age. His arms were a short fusee, with a bow and arrows slung to his shoulders, and a butcher-knife affixed to his belt. His hair was long, parted in front, and turned backwards; that upon the occiput, being bound in a cluster with panther's skin, hung in a plated cue and almost trailed the ground, while a lone eagle's plume completed his headdress. A robe enveloped his body, which, with moccasins, leggins, and breech-cloth, constituted his full costume, —a description of dress responding to that almost universally common among mountain tribes.

We were soon joined by others of his people, who eagerly enquired respecting the amount of liquor brought with us.

Among these were several individuals recognized by our voyageurs as old acquaintances; particularly one, an old chief called Bull Tail, (Tah-tunga-sana,) who was distinguished in attire from all his fellows by the addition of a hair-seal cap and a frock-coat, which he had received as presents from the whites.

One of our party gave a favorable account of the old fellow, and related a story much to his credit.

6 This term seems to call for a word of explanation. Our company was designated by the Indians as the Long-knife, or American company,-a term by which all Americans are known among them. The American Fur Company, employing almost exclusively Frenchmen, or individuals speaking the French language, receives the appellation of Wah-ceicha, or the Bad-medicine company, —a phrase universally applied to the French among the mountain tribes.

The narrator, during the previous winter, while searching for stray horses among the hills, had become so bewildered he was unable to find his way back to camp. He thus wandered for four successive days, unarmed, with out food, and with but a single robe for covering. His destiny would, doubtless, have been to perish, had not the kind hearted Tah-tunga-sana discovered him, and, pitying his forlorn condition, taken him to the village, upon his own horse, some twenty miles off, going himself on foot the entire distance. Here, the lost one was treated to the best the lodge of his deliverer afforded, and, when sufficiently recovered, he was escorted to the nearest station of the whites.

I turned for another look at the worthy chieftain, who now rode up and greeted his protegé with much cordiality.

He appeared to be about eighty years of age, and was gray-headed, spare-visaged, and much wrinkled. His coat, buttoned close around him, served for a robe, while his matted ear-locks disclosed upon the one side a raven's and upon the other a hawk's feather, for ornaments. His face, like those of his companions, was liberally bedaubed with vermilion, and each cheek embellished with alternate spots of white and black, by way of variety. His only weapons were a bow, arrows, and a tomahawk-pipe.

As a whole, he presented rather a shabby and ludicrous appearance, that, were it not for the recollection of his worthy conduct, would have excited, in the mind of the beholder, far more of contempt than interest.