THE RANGERS.—INDIAN HABITS.—CROSSING THE KANZAS RIVER.

It was daylight on the following morning when we commenced our journey towards Cantonment Leavenworth. It is situated in the Indian country, about forty miles beyond the line which separates the State from the Territory of Missouri. Our guide took the lead, and struck into a narrow foot-path which led through the forest, while the rest of us followed in Indian file.

There is a deep silence in a western wilderness. No sound is heard, not even the note of a bird, to break the deathly stillness.

Occasionally a spectre-like raven would flit across our path, saluting us with his ill-omened croak; or poising himself upon his wings, to take a more minute survey of the strange beings who had invaded his secluded haunts.

The silence was thrilling. Our voices echoed beneath the leafy canopy with a sound that rendered them strange even to our own ears. Even the crackling of the dry twigs, as they snapped beneath the hoofs of our horses, had a strange and solemn sound: but, as we grew familiarized with it, this feeling wore off, nor was it long before the jest and merry laugh went on as usual; and, I imagine, many a long day had passed since those aged forests had rung to such sounds of boisterous merriment as burst from the lips of the band, as we galloped towards the prairie, which lay but a few miles beyond.

In half an hour we reached it. A loud whoop from our guide announced that something more than usual had met his eye. At the same time he struck his spurs into his horse and galloped out into the open prairie.

At a short distance, a long troop of horsemen was trailing through the high grass, and preparing to enter a small thicket of timber which rose in the prairie at a short distance. They were a body of the United States’ Rangers, and had just returned from escorting the Santa FÉ traders across a portion of the perilous route, which they are obliged to take, in carrying on their profitable, though hazardous, trade with that inland mart. When we met, they had been more than a month absent from the garrison, seeing none but their own party, or occasionally a straggling band of friendly Indians, carrying their whole wardrobe in the small valise attached to their saddles; dependent for subsistence on hunting alone, and continually on the look-out for an enemy,—an enemy that always came when least expected, tarried but to strike the blow, and retreated with equal celerity to the fastnesses of their own mountains.

There is always a feeling of vagabond companionship engendered by travelling in the wilderness; and, although we were not a day’s ride beyond the settlements, we hailed the sight of this tatterdemalion band with as much joy as if we had been united by the links of a long and well-tried friendship.

We spent half an hour with them; then spurring on, we soon reached the bank of the Kanzas river.

This is one of the largest tributaries of the Missouri; being from a quarter to two miles in width, and varying in depth from one to thirty feet.

Upon reaching its brink, we found attached to a tree a large scow, which was used as a ferry-boat. Its owner, a tall thin Delaware, was quietly seated in one corner, pouring out a flood of smoke from a small pipe which garnished one corner of his mouth.

There is always an air of gentlemanly laziness hanging about the Indians. They live they know not how, and they care not where. A little suffices them: if they can get it, they are satisfied; if not, they are satisfied without it. They belong to a sect of philosophers ranging between the Epicureans and the Stoics. When pleasure presents its cup, they drink it to the dregs; and when the reverse is the case, they bear it without a murmur.

They have no objection to beg, or, if it is equally convenient, to steal; for, to tell the truth, they are much troubled with confused memories, and are terribly given to mistaking the property of other people for their own. It is a universal practice among them, and brings with it no disgrace. To all this is added a most gentlemanly abhorrence of labour of all descriptions, and a great store of patience in enduring the pinching hunger which is often the result of indolence. On a wet day you may travel for miles over the prairies, or through the thickets, and not a single Indian will cross your path; but let the sun again beam forth, and you will see them around in every direction, lounging in the long grass or sunning themselves upon some high prairie peak, with a most profound forgetfulness of the past, and lordly contempt for the future; for they are marvellously fond of fulfilling the general sense, though not the literal meaning of the old adage, which says, “make hay while the sun shines.”

Upon our hailing this Charon of the Kanzas, he quietly rose from his seat, and, stepping to the shore, made signs for us to lead our horses into the scow. He remained upon the bank until they were all safely embarked. He did not offer to aid in the least in getting them on board; nor did our guide appear to expect any assistance from him. When every thing was in readiness, he loosed the fastening, and seizing a long pole, thrust it into the sandy bottom, and whirled the ticklish vessel far out into the rushing current of the river. The water, at this spot, was not very deep; and by means of his pole, he soon ran the scow upon the sand of the opposite shore. He then secured it to a tree, and, having received his pay, pocketed it, and strolled off, leaving the party to land, or stay on board, as they might think fit.

We disembarked and galloped up the bank. On the top was a large log house, inhabited by the blacksmith of the Delaware Indians, and the last building we were to meet in the route to the garrison. We had scarcely reached it when the woods on the opposite bank of the river began to ring to the shouts of the Rangers; and the whole troop, as fantastically arrayed as a band of Italian banditti, slowly wound among the tall tree trunks until they reached the bank which overhung the water.

There was a pause of some moments upon the brink; then a heavy splash announced that the foremost had taken to the water; and, in a moment after, his powerful animal was struggling against the swift current. The rest paused to watch his progress, then one after another dashed in; until the long line of snorting steeds, and their whooping riders, extended nearly across the river.

At that moment a dark thunder cloud, which had been hanging over the woods for several hours, opened its fire upon the band, thoroughly drenching all that the water had left untouched, and rendering them almost invisible by reason of the density of its shower.

The cloud hovered over for about an hour, but at last, one after another, a few rays were seen shooting out their bright lines from behind the dark curtain, and playing upon the tops of the distant trees. Finally the ragged masses rolling together slowly floated off to the eastward, until their dark forms were lost below the horizon, and the heaven was left in its sea of pure and spotless blue.