THE KANZAS.

We had been two days in the garrison. A loud shrill cry arose in the air as we were in the desolate chamber which we called “our quarters.” Before we had time to pass a remark as to its cause, it came again, echoing through the building, and causing the forest to ring to its sound. We knew that it proceeded from Indians, and immediately left the quarters to see them. They were at a little distance from the fence surrounding the garrison, grouped together under a large oak tree, which grew alone, upon a small level plot of ground directly in front of the quarters. They were wanderers from the Kanzas village, which is situated upon the Kanzas river, about a hundred miles beyond the line of the Indian boundary.

There were about forty of them crowded together around a small fire, which they had kindled under the shade of the tree.

Give an Indian a fire, and you give him a home. Be there one or a hundred, a few sticks thrown together and kindled into a flame will be the gathering place of all. It is the same in the prairies and in the settlements—in warm weather and in cold. When they stop from a journey or a hunt, they kindle a fire and nestle around it. From that moment they feel an ideal property in the spot upon which they have thus intimated their intention to linger.

The band before us were all finely-formed men; for, with the exception of the Osage Indians of the Arkansas, they are considered the most noble of the tribes which yet roam within the neighbourhood of the settlements. As yet, from their communion with the whites they have derived benefit alone. Too far from them to imbibe their vices, they have yet been able to hold sufficient intercourse to promote their own interest. They have thrown aside their buffalo-skin robes, and adopted the blanket. They have become skilful in the use of the rifle, and except in hunting the buffalo make no use of bows and arrows.

When we came up, two or three were engaged in collecting fuel to sustain the fire; the rest were lounging around, luxuriating in the most perfect laziness. Several were leaning listlessly upon their hunting spears, too indolent to bear even their own weight. Some were resting against the tree; and a band of five or six were lying upon their backs, with their feet to the fire, drumming with their fists upon their breasts, and chanting out a sleepy ditty, the chorus of which was filled up by a loud yell from every throat in the band.

They were all athletic and finely formed. Their heads were shaven with the exception of the scalp lock, which hung down between their shoulders; and their breasts were left exposed by their blankets.

There was a little squaw in company with them, a notable character; and if I might judge from the foolish look of several, and the loud laugh of the rest, gifted with a most peppery tongue. We had heard of Indian beauties, but she was not one of them; for she engrossed in her own person a concentration of ugliness, which would have more than satisfied a dozen ordinary females. There was an acidity in her black glittering eye which gave a zest to her remarks, causing them to be highly relished by the lounging crew, but rendering them unpalatable to the unfortunate scape goat at whose expense they were uttered.

We had not stood there long before we came in for our share of her blessings: of their nature, however, we remained in a happy ignorance. They were received with loud bursts of merriment from the graceless troop around her, with the exception of one or two of the oldest Indians. The grave faces and wrinkled brows of these wore a discouraging sternness. It was in vain that the little woman exhausted her wit for the purpose of enticing a smile upon their features; their lips were as rigid as ever, nor did the relaxation of a single muscle of their swarthy faces denote that they participated in the general amusement. In spite of this, however, she appeared loath to relinquish her sport. While this had been going on, an old Indian was sitting close to the fire, with one elbow resting upon his knee, and his hand supporting his chin. His hair was white, and rested in flaky locks upon his shoulders. His eyes were fixed intently upon the blaze, and he was apparently buried in deep thought.

He had continued in this posture for some time; but at last a loud burst of laughter, which followed some remark of the squaw, seemed to call him to himself. He looked around for a moment with a bewildered air, then starting to his feet, strode over to the oratrix, and hissed a few low but stern words in her ear. Her face lengthened, and her mouth closed; the rest instantly followed her example, and the faces of the whole gang were converted to a look of the most penitential gravity. What the charm was that acted so potently in hushing the clamour of the virago I never knew, or I should have imparted it for the benefit of the civilised world.

The old man then stepped from the centre of the crowd, and extended his hand to each of us. After a cordial shaking he pressed his own against his bosom, and withdrew to his former seat at the fire. From that moment the noise and jeering were hushed. The old lady turned her attention to a number of potatoes which were roasting in the fire. Parties of five or six, wrapping their blankets closely around them, sauntered off towards the quarters of the officers. Others strolled off to the banks of the Missouri; and five or six, who appeared too idle even to do that, laid themselves at full length upon the grass, and joined in the drum and chorus of those who were already engaged in chanting. A few of the oldest warriors then drew together in a knot, and commenced an earnest debate, in which they were afterwards joined by the old Indian who had interfered at first in our behalf. They spoke earnestly; the matter appeared to be one of moment, and each in turn gave his opinion. There was a warmth and an energy in their tones and gesticulation as they spoke, and an earnestness in their usually calm and dispassionate features, which strongly excited our curiosity.

The little woman, too, seemed totally engrossed with the interest of the subject. She suffered a large potato to roast to coal without noticing it. She sat with her eyes intently fixed upon the varying countenances of the speakers, turning from one to the other as each in turn delivered his opinion. Her air was not that of mere curiosity, there was a strong mixture of anxiety blended with it. She looked as if she were deeply interested in the result.

The debate continued for some time; but at length they separated, and apparently without coming to any conclusion, strolled off towards the quarters without heeding the squaw, leaving her seated alone at the fire.

We afterwards learned that this party of Indians had been for two days without provisions, and that they were consulting about the selection of a committee from their band, who should commence begging for a supply among the soldiers of the garrison. We forgave the little squaw, in consideration of the penance and fasting which she had already undergone.

This band hung round the garrison for several days. The imposing appearance which they bear at first sight, wears off as you become familiarized with them. The high, haughty carriage, which they wear towards strangers, gradually relaxes as they become acquainted. They were constantly lounging round the quarters of the soldiers, or strolling in little parties of five or six through the woods. Here and there some curious fellows might be seen, peering into the windows of the dwelling-houses, or stealing through some open door into the interior. Their step is so hushed and noiseless, that there is nothing to warn you of their approach. I have frequently been surprised, upon looking round in my chamber, to find a dozen of these fellows quietly seated around me, some upon chairs, others upon the floor, and all apparently as much at their ease as if they had made it their resting place for the last century. They seemed neither to care whether you welcomed them or not; they had made up their minds to visit you, and visit they would. With all this, there was an unobtrusiveness in their manners, which soon reconciled us to their presence. They would sit for hours in the same attitude, making no remarks, holding no conversation; and were it not for their glistening, snaky eyes, which were ever fastened on your face, creating a feeling of restless uneasiness, there was little else in their company to annoy you.

It was near the close of a warm afternoon, that I had thrown myself upon a bear-skin on the floor, with that feeling of listless languor which is apt to pervade a stranger, when visiting the western country for the first time. The drum was pouring out a dull melancholy roll at the far end of the green, occasionally enlivened by the shrill tones of a fierce little fife. Under the window, a lounging soldier, half asleep, was drawling out a tedious ditty, with a strong nasal accompaniment which did not add much to the vivacity of the tune. Even the sun himself had been wrought up into a fever. With a face as red as that of a fat butcher, he crawled through the sky, as if he longed for the time when he might take his twelve hours’ nap in the cool bed of the ocean. The trees nodded over the bank of the Missouri with a heavy, sleepy look. The river itself scampered along its channel, as if anxious to escape from the sultry heat which filled the atmosphere.

I had lain nearly an hour upon my shaggy couch. My eyes were yielding to slumber; present things were fast vanishing, or only appeared blended with the fitful forms of a drowsy imagination.

“Ho! ho! ho!” shouted a dozen voices at my side. I started up—a group of Kanzas were seated in a ring, around my bear-skin. For a moment I was bewildered; but they soon convinced me of the reality of my situation, and of the difference between their visitations and those of fancy.

They were a detachment who had been sent out to forage in the larders of the garrison. Although their language was unknown to me, their object was perfectly intelligible. They signified their wants with a clearness of gesticulation which could not be misunderstood, and the earnestness of which was, no doubt, enhanced by a keen appetite.

Seeing that there was no alternative, I called to our half-breed boy,—

“Joseph!”

“Vat you vant?” sounded a voice from the dark cavern below, which was dignified with the name of a kitchen.

“Have you any meat or bread for these Indians?”

“Sacre diable!” answered he, “Vare de devil I to git meat for dem? I h’aint eat none my own sef, for tree day, nor Mordecai neder.”

This was not altogether true, but it was conclusive; so I returned to my dusky friends with the heavy intelligence.

There are two characters in this world, whom it is impossible to convince of the truth of any thing which jars with their own opinions or interests; the first is a politician, the second is a hungry Indian. I soon found it out—my red visiters were immoveable—they were deaf both to arguments and to statements of facts. They heard me—they understood me—but they were not a whit nearer to conviction, and they made no motion to depart. There was no resource left, so I determined to abdicate in their favour; and taking up my hat I left the house, and strolled off in the woods.

It was near sunset when I returned to my quarters. I opened the door of the chamber and looked in.

“Ho! ho! ho!” sounded a dozen guttural voices from within. My red friends were there still, waiting for my coming. I closed the door instantly, and walked off with a hasty step to the quarters of one of the officers; nor did I return until late at night, when I found that they had disappeared.

I afterwards learned that they had been supplied with provisions on the morning previous, and that they were now carrying on the business of begging for mere amusement.

When the night grew dark, there was a bright fire gleaming under the old oak tree where they had taken their station, and the whole group were huddled together around it. From the piazza in front of our quarters we could see their forms flitting round the blaze, and could hear their song as it rose up in the damp air, with a wildness not unmixed with melody. The day was past, and they were now enjoying the present moment with their usual happy forgetfulness of toil. In the morning we again visited the spot which they had selected for their camp; but it was deserted. The embers had fallen to ashes—the fire was extinguished—and the whole wild troop had again set out upon its wanderings.