This selection was written by a white man who ran away from home when a boy and lived among the Indians of the plains for twelve years about the middle of the last century. He married an Indian maiden, Washtella, and became a chief in the tribe. He gives many interesting descriptions of Indian life and customs, which probably give some idea of the way our own ancestors may have lived thousands of years ago.

The Indians depended upon the buffalo for their chief supply of food. Millions of these animals roamed the plains in vast herds. The Indians cannot be blamed in the least for slaughtering these animals for food, but the white men who drove the Indians from the plains killed the buffaloes often for mere sport, and exterminated them except for a few small herds now in captivity.

Read the story as rapidly as you can without skipping or losing the meaning, and be prepared to stand in front of the class and give a complete discussion of any of the topics given at the end of the selection.

When our camp was pitched, I walked out along the banks of the beautiful lake, to see what I could discover. Its waters were clear as crystal and full of fish. Not a boat, and perhaps not even a canoe, had ever rippled its bosom, and I could not but imagine, as I gazed across the blue expanse, that one day commerce would spring up, and towns and cities be built upon its green shores.

Looking to the north, I was startled from my reflections by seeing a large buffalo cow coming down to the water to drink. Hastening back to the village, I quickly procured my Hawkins rifle and ran over the little eminence that hid the lodges from the animal. She had approached quite near the water, and was not more than one hundred and fifty yards distant from me, when, hearing a noise in my rear, I looked back and saw several Indians running toward me with their guns. The cow at the same moment saw them, and turned to make off; but too late, for I had drawn a bead on her heart, and at one shot dropped her dead.

All the village came running and shouting, and the squaws gathered around the dead buffalo, jostling and elbowing each other as they tore off the meat. It is the Indian rule that game is common property, and my buffalo was soon reduced to a pile of bones by the knives of the busy squaws. I could not help laughing as I watched them struggling for the choice morsels. First, the skin was carefully removed, and then the muscles and gristle cut away. Then, just as a squaw was about to take the coveted part, she would be rudely thrust aside, and some other squaw would take it. These exploits were received with loud shouts of laughter, and no ill-temper or quarreling was observed among the excited crowd of women who surrounded the carcass.

On returning to my lodge, I found Washtella in great glee over my good luck, and she explained that it was no small matter to have killed the first buffalo slain in the hunt. Presently I received a message from the chief, and was informed by an old Indian that, having killed the first buffalo, I would be entitled to lead the hunt on the first day. Meat was brought me, and the skin or robe, which, according to the Indian custom, is always given to the one who kills the animal. So proud was Washtella that she did nothing all the evening but talk of my good fortune, and I could not help being amused at the boasts of the little maid. Nothing could possibly have happened that would have given her more pleasure.

The next morning, as soon as it was daylight, I was aroused, and told that the warriors were waiting for me to lead them in the chase. Assembling all of them before my lodge, I addressed them, saying I was a young man, and lacked experience, but if they would allow me, I would name one worthy to lead them in my place. This was received with loud shouts of approval, and as soon as quiet was restored, I pointed to a young warrior, and said: "He is a good man, go and follow him." The warrior I had selected was my bitter enemy. As his animosity was well known in the tribe, the honors thus thrust upon him, by one from whom he had expected no favors, surprised and pleased them. For a moment the brave hung his head, and then came forward, and, amid the shouts of the warriors, gave me his hand. Feeling unwell, I did not go upon the hunt that day, but in the evening, when the party returned, my old enemy came to my lodge, and as a token of his friendship, presented me with two fine robes he had taken during the day.

On the second day I went out with the hunters, and joined in a most exciting chase. Under the directions of a chief, we deployed at wide distances, and then, closing in, surrounded a herd of buffaloes on three sides; and as soon as the herd began to move, the chase began. Our tough little ponies bore us swiftly along, and soon the herd was hard pressed. Presently it began to scatter, and then each Indian, selected a buffalo and followed the beast up until he had killed it. It is astonishing how fast the great lumbering animals can run, and although they do not seem to go over the ground very rapidly, it takes a good horse to come up with them. Their shambling "lope" is equal in speed to an American horse's gallop, and they can climb steep hills and get over rough ground faster than a horse. They run with their heads near the earth, and a hundred of them will make a mighty noise that resembles the rumbling of distant thunder. The warriors do not stop to touch the game after it is dead, as the skinning and packing of the meat is the work of the squaws who follow in the wake of the hunters. For this purpose they have pack-ponies, and two women will skin and pack three or four buffaloes in a day.

The meat is brought to the village, is cut in narrow slices, about an inch thick, and three or four inches long. These slices are then hung on poles, or stretched on small willows laid across a frame-work of poles. The meat is frequently turned, and is allowed to remain in the sun and air for three days. It should be covered or brought in at night, and must not be allowed to get wet by rain while it is curing. This is called jerking buffalo, and is a simple and easy process of curing meat. The pure crisp air of the plains soon dries it, and then it has a sweet, pleasant taste. I have known climates on the plains where nearly all the year carcasses could be hung up and left without spoiling until used. Meat, when jerked, is only about half the weight and size it is when in a raw state. If soaked in water it will swell greatly, and then, unless used immediately, it will spoil.

When the buffalo flesh is dried sufficiently, it is put into parfleshes, or wrappers, made of rawhide cut square, which will hold about half a bushel. They are sewed up at the bottom and sides, the laps at the top being left open until they are filled. The meat is then laid in flat and packed tightly like plugs of tobacco. When two or three layers of meat have been put in, hot buffalo fat is brought and poured over it until all the interstices are filled up. Then more layers of meat are put in and more fat poured on, until the parflesh is full, when the laps are folded over each other and tightly sewed up with sinews. The meat is now ready for winter use, and two parfleshes are fastened together like a pair of saddle-bags, and slung across the back of a pony when the Indians travel. To prevent these bags or wrappers from hurting the ponies' backs, the under side is lined with fur or bear skin.

We had hunted four days from our camp on the lake, and although we had taken the utmost precaution not unnecessarily to alarm the buffaloes most of them had gone a long distance from the village. A council was called, and it was determined we should go over to the lakes that lay on the Jim River, sixty miles distant. We immediately set out, moving around the lake to the right of the buffaloes, so as not to disturb them. Our route lay across a beautiful level country through which meandered little streams eight or ten miles apart. We traveled leisurely along, however, halting on the creeks, and making about sixteen miles per day, for many of our ponies were already heavily laden with meat.

On the fourth day we reached the lakes, and again pitched our village. Here we found plenty of buffaloes and a great many calves, which were very acceptable to us, as we wanted some parfleshes of veal.

We hunted four days, and took a great deal of meat. Each family had from three to six parfleshes, according to its size, which was as much as it could use during the winter, and enough for the infirm besides. So the hunt was announced at an end, and we began to prepare for our return. I had been exceedingly fortunate, and had taken no less than nine parfleshes of meat and had twelve robes.

There are several methods of killing buffaloes besides the regular chase. One of these, as practiced by the Indians, is as follows:

The buffaloes are watched until they graze near a precipice, when two or three Indians put a buffalo skin on sticks, and concealing themselves under it, approach near the herd slowly, as if grazing. This must be done when the wind is favorable, and blowing from the buffaloes. If the decoy is successful, other Indians make a wide circuit, surrounding the herd on all sides, except that toward the bluff. Then they steal up as close as possible, and when the buffaloes, discover them, they shout, shake their blankets and poles, and close in upon the herd. The animals are greatly alarmed, but seeing the mock buffalo (which has managed to attract attention) set off for the bluffs, they rush madly after it. When the baiters reach the bluff, they fling the mock buffalo over the precipice, and betake themselves to holes in the bank or crevices among the rocks. It is in vain the leaders of the herd halt when they see the chasm; the mass from behind, crazed by the poles and blankets of the Indians, who are now close upon them, rush madly on, and press those in front over the cliff.

It is exceedingly dangerous to bait buffalo, as the herd frequently overtake the false buffalo and trample it beneath their feet, or the great beasts, falling among the rock, crush the Indian baiters to death. Many reckless young Indians, who as baiters have gone too far inland, have, after the chase, been found dead on the plain, or their mangled bodies lay at the foot of the precipice with the carcasses of the animals they had so cruelly deceived. It takes a brave Indian to be a baiter, but there are always plenty of young and foolish boys who are anxious to engage in the dangerous sport.

After the buffaloes have fallen and killed or maimed themselves, a party of Indians who have been concealed near the foot of the precipice suddenly advance and finish them with axes and rifles.

Our hunt having ended, the chief ordered that the usual feast and rejoicing should take place. A long pole was provided, a buffalo head put on the top of it, and a number of tails nailed, at right angles, to the sides. The pole was then set firmly in the ground, in the center of an open space before the village, and buffalo heads were piled up around it. The heads were set in a circle, and arranged to look as hideous as possible.

Immense quantities of buffalo meat were now brought, and the feast was made ready. At these feasts nothing but buffalo meat is eaten, and every one makes it a point to gorge himself to the fullest extent. Even the dogs are stuffed, and the women and children are persuaded to eat while they can force down a bite. The greater the quantity of meat eaten, the greater the honor; and some starve themselves for two or three days in advance, in order to do justice to the occasion. The meat is prepared in every form—boiled, fried, broiled, roasted, and raw.

When one can eat no more, he goes to the pole, and as soon as a sufficient number have collected, the dance begins. The warriors sit in a circle around the pole, and the squaws, gaudily dressed and painted, form a circle around the warriors. At a signal the drums beat, and all stand up. Then the squaws sing, and the warriors move around to the right and the squaws to the left, each keeping time to the drums. The dance is a slow, shuffling motion that soon makes one very tired. When one of the Indians gets tired, he steps out of the circle and another takes his place. As soon as it is dark, wood is brought, fires are made around the pole, and the dancing is kept up all night. The feasting frequently continues for three days, and at no time is the pole without its set of dancers. The amount of buffalo consumed is prodigious, when we consider that, besides the vast quantities eaten by the Indians, each family has from six to ten days.

When the feast was over, we began to prepare in earnest for our return. The meat was carefully distributed, so that no pony would be overloaded, and everything was neatly packed. It took both my ponies and all my dogs to carry my meat and lodge, so Washtella and I had to walk. We considered this no great hardship, however, as nearly the whole village was on foot. We made only eight or ten miles a day; but at last, after a most fatiguing march, reached the Missouri, and entered our old camp near Fort Randall.

Outline for Topical Recitations

Introduction—The Scene of the Camp.

1. My good luck.
(a) Killing the first buffalo of the hunt.
(b) Cutting up the meat.
(c) Receiving appointment as leader.
2. Chasing the buffalo.
3. The winter's food supply.
(a) Drying the meat.
(b) Packing.
(c) Transporting.
(d) Ending the hunt.
4. Killing buffaloes by a decoy.
5. Celebrating a successful hunt.
(a) The place for the ceremony.
(b) The hearty meal.
(c) The dance.
6. The return to the winter camp.