Page:The Oregon Trail by Parkman.djvu/400

374. Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, he told the following story:—

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how late it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it was nearly dark; and as he saw them all sitting around their fires within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by their sides, he thought he might as well give warning of his approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. Raising his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in prolonged accents, "camp, ahoy!" This eccentric salutation produced anything but the desired result. Hearing such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation were upon them. Up they sprang, wild with terror. Each man snatched his gun; some stood behind the wagons; some threw themselves flat on the ground, and in an instant twenty cocked muskets were leveled full at the horrified Tête Rouge, who just then began to be visible through the darkness.

"Thar they come," cried the master wagoner, "fire, fire! shoot that feller."

"No, no!" screamed Tête Rouge, in an ecstasy of fright; "don't fire, don't; I'm a friend, I'm an American citizen!"

"You're a friend, be you?" cried a gruff voice from the wagons; "then what are you yellin' out thar for like a wild Injun. Come along up here if you're a man."

"Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master wagoner, "maybe he's a decoy, like."

Tête Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his eyes. He succeeded at last in explaining his true character, and the Missourians admitted him into camp. He got no whisky; but as he represented himself as a great