there was some reason for haste, for the fine weather did not promise to last long; heavy clouds rose in the west, which soon obscured the whole sky, and it became impossible, with neither sun nor stars to guide them, to keep anything near to a direct westward course, which they thought would take them to fort mcpherson.

nor could they tell in which direction they varied from it; but shoreward they were sure they were going, though they no longer hoped to effect a landing very near the fort they were seeking.

vainly they had looked for land during the seemingly long night, and when daylight at length revealed it a few miles distant they coasted it for several hours in the hope of discovering some traces of others of their comrades who might have escaped from the wreck of the missing boat.

not succeeding in this, they landed about nine o’clock in the morning, to rest, and to make their breakfast with the scant remains of the food which they had taken with them; and of which there was enough left only to sharpen their appetites, not to satisfy them.

the shore was low and marshy, and, although it was thickly wooded, they had no means of procuring game; and they soon departed in search of a more hospitable region.

nearly the whole day was spent in this quest, and late in the afternoon they again debarked on a bolder shore in a prairielike region, with little timber in view, yet with some elevated land in the background.

here they hoped to find some human habitation, and an hour’s search by the scattered party resulted in the discovery of a cluster of indian wigwams, nearly a hundred and fifty in number, on the edge of a strip of woodland not far from the lake shore.

this was a doubtful advantage, for it was of course uncertain whether the savages—who were probably a branch of the sioux nation—would prove friendly or hostile; but it was argued that from their position the indians must have seen the boats coasting their territory, and that if they were evil-disposed they would already have attacked the white men while they were separated from each other.

they drew together for consultation, and being impelled by extreme hunger—and, indeed, by fear of starvation—they decided to apply to the red men for food.

they would not go in a body, but would send one or two of their number, in order that their own pacific intentions might be understood; for they thought it not improbable that the warriors of the little village, at least equal in number to their wigwams, were in the wood watching their movements.

“let joe go,” said buffalo bill. “the indians are very partial to colored men, and——”

“is dey?” said congo, who, when sober, had a penchant for big words, and sometimes got hold of a larger one than he could manage. “den dare sentiments isn’t ’ciprocated, sah—they’se not at all mutoo-toot-tual, sah!”

“and, besides, if the worst comes to worst, you owe me a life.”

“yes—dat ar is fact, massa cody, but nobody pays debts nowadays, sah. de gemmen are all failin’, sah, an’ goin’ into solvency, and i don’t t’ink i can pay more’n twenty cents on de dollar on dat debt, sah.”

“very good, joe,” said the captain, “but suppose we should raise a purse for you of a hundred dollars. how then?”

“well, sah, dat is anudder p’int of view. i’ll ’volve it a little. maybe dar is nobody dar. den you’ll gib it to me all de same?”

“certainly.”

“and some day i’ll git up airly and run away. but maybe dey kill me?”

“i don’t believe they would, joe.”

“nor i, too—not ef i go polite, sah. but ef dey should, den my wife——”

“she shall have the money—oh, yes.”

“i’ll do it, sah. jiminy, but i will! a hull hundred dollars earned in half an hour! it’s more’n i could save in t’ree years. golly! i never saved anyt’ing yet. i ain’t afraid. i’ve seen injuns afore now. i’ll go.”

the money was at once raised and put into the captain’s hands, and the negro, having inspected it to make sure that it was all right, prepared for immediate departure.

he received some instructions as to how he was to act, what he was to say if he could make the red men understand his language, and what gestures he was to make if they did not.

no weapon was allowed him, lest he should make indiscreet use of it and precipitate ruin upon the whole party.

in fact, there were no weapons in the company except one clumsy five-barreled revolver and three small pistols. in the wreck it had been all they could do to escape with their lives.

“be sure to tell them that we are well armed,” said the captain, smiling, “but that we are good men, and do not want to harm them. tell them we want nothing[222] but food and we will pay for that, and then we’ll go right away.”

they gave him some money in silver, and told him to give that to the indians and to promise them as much more as soon as the provisions were sent.

“be discreet, joe, now, for everything depends on that,” said cody. “remember the ladies must not be endangered.”

“i will, sah; i’ll be bery ’screet.”

“and whatever happens don’t get angry. when you get near them stop and lay your hand on your heart—so—and point to the sky.”

joe, in attempting to imitate the gesture of his instructor, put his hand on a region a great deal lower than his heart and one that might be considered the more immediate seat of suffering from his prolonged fasting.

this error being corrected, he was permitted to depart, and he set out with perfect confidence and with no small sense of the dignity of his mission.

the huts were about a mile distant, and he walked rapidly at first, but with more deliberation when he got within ordinary rifle shot of the settlement.

from this point he proceeded warily and with great vigilance, soliloquizing some; but, fearing that he might be overheard, he was very chary of his language.

“if de red debbils—gemmen, i mean—is gwine to fire i wish to gracious dey’d do it now,” he said, “before i git any closer and w’ile dare’s time to run. i can’t see nuffin’ movin’ ober dare.”

at a quarter of a mile from the village he stopped and bowed very low, cap in hand, and he repeated his performance every few rods as he proceeded, varying it at times by smiting his heart and pointing upward.

still he saw nobody, and, although he believed the indians were in hiding, near to or in their lodges, he[223] went forward, though with much trepidation, repeating in the intervals between his obeisances the only prayer he could recall to memory—beginning, “now i lay me down to sleep.”

at the edge of the wood and not a dozen yards from the nearest wigwam, he stopped. after peering carefully around in all directions he called out:

“is any of the gemmen or ladies to hum?”

receiving no answer to this polite inquiry, he advanced near enough to one of the huts to look through an opening which served for a window and to obtain a view of the interior.

a glance showed him that no one was within, and he ventured to push aside the door or curtain of skin which hung before the entrance and walk in.

the building, if such it may be called, was conical or tentlike in shape, entirely made of saplings, and boughs, and bushes carelessly intertwined, and partly covered with skins.

a bed of the same material was in one corner of the lodge, on the bare earth, and a large log, hewn smooth on one side, served the purpose of a bench or settee.

a few cooking utensils of stone and iron completed the furniture, but that there was nothing edible in the room the hungry negro quickly ascertained.

he went out and entered another wigwam, with a similar result; but here everything bore the marks of a hasty evacuation.

a fire was burning outside the hut, within a little circular wall of stones: an iron kettle and a large gourd of water stood beside it, and near the door a few ears of dried corn had been dropped, evidently in the haste of departure.

these joe pocketed, and then he continued his explorations, gaining courage as he proceeded, and scarcely fearing any longer that he should encounter a foe.

“dey’re all run away,” he said, “and took dere victuals with ’em. let’s try dis ’ere next one.”

to his surprise the next lodge which he entered had an inmate—a very old and decrepit indian, who seemed neither able to work nor to stand, and whom his alarmed companions had evidently abandoned to his fate.

he was tall and gaunt, was dressed in a sort of tunic of dirty deerskin, with bead-embroidered leggings and moccasins of the same material; had heavy gold rings in his ears, a wampum belt about his waist, and an eagle feather fastened in his scalp lock.

he was seated on a pile of skins, chanting in a low voice, and he had probably decorated himself for the “happy dispatch” which he anticipated receiving at the hand of his visitor.

“good mornin’, sah—sarvant, sah!” said congo, bowing and scraping, as he caught sight of this strange individual. “hope you’re quite well!”

the indian bent his head a little lower, as if for the expected blow, and continued to sing.

“neber mind de music now,” said the negro; “i’se in a hurry. where’s all your folks?”

the old warrior looked up, and, seeing that his visitor was unarmed and was making pacific demonstrations, he gazed at and listened to him for some seconds in silence and amazement.

“do you talky englishy?” continued joe, who seemed to think he would make himself more easily understood by this mode of speech.

the chief, for such he was, or had been in his better days, nodded emphatically, as if he would have said: “yes, you have come to the right shop for english, my boy.”

what he did say was:

“ess, me spokes him. me sioux, uh! wise chief!”

“glad you mentioned it, sah! happy to make your acquaintance. whare is your folks?”

the indian shook his head.

“don’t you understandy?” asked joe.

again the chief made a negative gesture.

“whare’s all de injins, and de squaws, and de papooses?” continued the negro, looking around the room.

“my braves hunt. squaws and papooses much scare and run.”

“in de woods?” asked joe, pointing that way.

the chief seemed disposed to be noncommital on this point, and his visitor repeated his question.

“um, sink in the ground,” replied the sioux, gravely pointing downward.

“debbil dey did!” said joe, with a wondering stare; and then, after a pause, he continued:

“tell you wot, old chap, i’se very hungry.”

he opened his huge mouth and pointed into it by way of explaining this remark.

“dare’s ten men back here, all berry hungry; good men, understandy?”

“good!” said the chief, echoing the word used by his guest.

“yes—goody men—all armed wid rifles and ’volvers and knives, understandy?”

“rifles, knives, ugh!” repeated the indian.

“sackly! you understand. now hab you got any victuals to sell?”

the chief looked steadily at him a while, and then said:

“spoke him again.”

“hab you any victuals to sell?”

the sachem shook his head in evident bewilderment,[226] and joe, taking a handful of silver coin—half and quarter dollars—laid it down beside him and asked him if he knew what it was.

“ess,” was the reply. “me sioux—wise chief. know ’em.”

and without more ado he took up the money and slipped it, piece by piece, inside his belt.

“all righty,” said joe. “now, whare’s de victuals?”

“ah! no understan’ english.”

“de victuals!” screamed the negro again, pointing down his widely opened mouth.

“no understan’.”

“corn—venison—bear’s meat—anything to eat,” continued the pertinacious joe, pantomiming mastication by snapping his great white teeth together like a hungry mastiff.

“ah! ah! phuff! ess! buckle, tuckle, gon so ripta, honorable much tosh-a-long! uh! uh!” said the chief, smiling with a sudden gleam of intelligence and trying to rise.

“dat’s it!” replied joe. “you’ve got it now, i guess, dough i can’t say i quite understand you.”

“listen, my son!” said the chief, sinking back upon the skins from which he had partly risen. “me great chief.”

“sartain. you tole me dat afore.”

“me much old.”

“i s’spected dat ar, too.”

“me seen t’ousand moons.”

“thunder!” exclaimed congo. “dat must hab made it berry light!”

“now great chief going to happy hunting grounds.”

“is you, dough? golly! ef you’d lend me a rifle, i’d go along.”

“listen! my son wants meat?”

“yessy—very muchy.”

the sioux took out one of the silver pieces from his belt, and held it up in one hand, while he extended the other toward his visitor.

“more!” he said.

“oh, dat’s your game, is it, you avaricious old cormudgeon?—t’anks to goodness, he can’t understand dat!” said the negro, laughing and taking out another handful of silver.

“no, you don’t!” he continued, as the sachem offered to take it. “not ef dis child know hisself!”

“dollars,” said the indian, still reaching out his hand.

“corn and meat,” replied joe.

“money.”

“de victuals fust.”

the indian smiled now, and, rising with difficulty, stood shaking a moment, and then pointed to the skins on which he had been sitting.

“i see,” said joe, “but we can’t eat dem.”

the chief motioned to the negro to push them aside, and when he had done so, an opening was discovered in the ground about three feet by two, and apparently of considerable depth.

in this little cellar was the unskinned carcass of a deer, which had evidently been recently killed, and which had probably been thrown in there in haste when the alarm of invasion had been given.

joe’s mouth watered at the sight, and he took hold of a leg of the venison to lift it out, but the old man shook his head and growled a refusal.

he had only shown his wares with a view of eliciting a larger offer of pay.

“i will hab it, mr. chiefy,” said the negro, jerking the carcass out, “or, at least, half ob it. how muchy for de halfy?”

the indian showed a silver quarter of a dollar, and then held up ten fingers.

“all righty,” replied joe, counting down three half dollars and four quarters; but the chief could not be made to comprehend that he had got his price. there were but seven pieces, and he held up three fingers more.

all attempts at explanation were useless, and the ludicrous efforts of the negro to convince the indian that one “halfy” was equal to two quarters were only responded to by a puzzled look and by renewed shakings of the head.

“but i habn’t got any more,” said the black man.

“ess—more—more. me wise chief.”

“it’s my private opinion dat you is an old rip,” replied joe, smiling and turning his pockets wrong side out, by which means he succeeded in finding one more quarter, which he put into the extended hand of his companion. “see—all goney!”

pending this controversy the old man tottered to the window and looked out, but his visitor supposed it was only in apprehension of the approach of the white men, and continued his negotiations.

“dey shan’t hurty you,” he said. “don’t be fraidy. all good men. jest gib me hatchet, ef you please, cap’n, to cut dis in two.”

“no un’stan’.”

“little axy—papoose axy—eh? understan’?” continued the black man, making strange signs by way of elucidation.

a shake of the head followed.

“you drefful dumb! habn’t you got leetle tommyhawky?”

a distant shout was heard at this moment, and the negro, looking out of the door, saw about thirty armed[229] indians and half a dozen large dogs, scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, approaching the settlement.

the red men were sauntering lazily, and several bore heavy backloads of game, while others were singing and cutting antics like merry men after a successful chase.

not a little alarmed, but guessing that it would be useless—nay, most dangerous—to run before so many weapons and dogs, congo retreated into the cabin.

“is dem your folks?” he asked, holding the skin curtain aside that the old man might see out.

“ess. my young man. me great chief.”

“yes, sah—dat you is! you next to de president ob united states! you good man, too! you no let ’em hurty me, eh?”

joe shook hands with the chief and smote his breast and made all manner of pacific demonstrations while he said this.

“no un’stand.”

“oh—debble you don’t! you grow dumb jes’ w’en it suits you, i t’ink. and dey looks like mighty ugly customers.”

so saying, he tumbled the dead deer back into the hole and drew the pile of skins over it, fearing that he might otherwise be suspected of being a robber, and be slain before any explanations could be made.

partly by urging, and partly by force, he induced the “wise chief” to resume his seat, and then again tried to make him understand that he wanted his protection from the coming warriors.

“do dey speak english?” he asked anxiously.

“ess—running water, he spokes ’em—great much.”

“running water, eh? dat’s cur’ous name. is he a chief?”

“young chief. me older. wise man.”

“i see. you’ve been laid on de shelf a good w’ile, and ain’t of near as much consequence as you makes yourself out. is running water a good man?”

“ess—good! got much scalps!”

“golly! i hope he’s got enough! dare dey come now close by; i hear ’em. i wish i wus back on de boat or anywhere else but here.”

peeping out, he saw that the hunters had been joined by a rabble of squaws and children, who had rushed out of their hiding places in the woods to meet them, and that the whole party, babbling loudly, were within a few rods of the lodges.

“now for it!” said joe, with great trepidation. “stand by me, old gemmen, or i’m a goner. ‘now i lay me down to sleep.’ oh, jiminy! what a fool i was to come here and git in sich a scrape as dis! dey look fierce as wild wolves and dem old squaws are tellin’ ’em all manner of lies about me. i know dat dey are. dey’ll sartain make mincemeat of me jes’ as soon as dey find me.”

the red men were certainly in considerable excitement.

some had stopped and were looking earnestly at the distant party of whites who had been pointed out to them by the women, and others were advancing warily toward the wigwam of the old chief, for vigilant eyes from the brakes and bushes in the wood had watched the negro’s arrival in the village.

his entrance into the several lodges, and the fact that he had not departed from that one, were both well known to them.