INDIAN HABITS.—THE ESCAPE.

We had been a week in the village, and had become familiar with all the antiquated gossips of the place. The old warriors would stop us as we lounged around, to listen to some sly joke, which, as in duty bound, we relished most highly; though the wit of it was for the most part beyond our fathom, as it lay hid in the arcana of their language. The old squaws would hold us by the button, and whine into our ears some lugubrious tale of misery, equally unintelligible. The children soon lost the shyness which had at first marked their conduct; they were continually hanging around the tents, teasing the black cook, or frightening the oxen. When not thus engaged, they were scampering like deer across the prairie, in the enjoyment of their wild games. Here and there, too, a knot were busily engaged in gambling away arrows, which they had received from their parents; discussing, with the most earnest eagerness, the fairness and unfairness of each toss of their competitor.

Our tents became the gathering place of the whole tribe, where they assembled to discuss the news of the day. Here they would light their pipes, and talk over the deeds of former times; of scalps taken—of horses stolen—of buffalo hunts, and of hair-breadth escapes from the Sioux and Osage Indians. All the incidents which tend to variegate the desultory life of a savage were here brought into review by the gossiping group; receiving their meed of praise or censure, as they deserved it. Among the rest they spoke high in praise of a young Indian, who stood at a little distance. He was leaning against a wheel of one of the waggons, gazing, though with an evident air of abstraction, upon the group collected round the fire. He was scarcely twenty; yet he was already a brave, and stood high among the older warriors. A long feather hung from his scalp-lock, and was his only ornament. A blanket was thrown loosely over the lower part of his body, and was his only covering. Among various things related of him, was the following:—

A few weeks before our arrival at the village, he was returning one afternoon from an unsuccessful hunting excursion, which had taken him to a great distance from his home. The crimson disk of the sun was scarcely visible above the tops of the prairie hills. The burning heat of a hot summer’s day was mellowing down into the mildness of a July evening, and, one by one, the ravens and vultures were winging a steady course towards their roosts in the thick forest skirting the Missouri.

The Otoe had yet twenty miles to travel, and it would be nightfall before he could reach his village; but he would not push his generous steed, which was already much fatigued. He, therefore, rode slowly across the prairie, occasionally chirruping to the horse, or humming some Indian song.

Suddenly his quick eye was caught by the appearance of a black speck, which rose over the edge of a distant hill, between himself and the setting sun. In a moment after, the whole figure of a mounted Indian emerged to view, followed by four others also mounted. They did not observe the Otoe, but continued riding along the top of the ridge, in the same direction with himself. Supposing them to be some of his own tribe, he checked his horse, and raised a loud whoop to attract their notice.

At first they did not hear him, but a second shout, raised at the full pitch of his lungs, brought them to a halt. A short consultation seemed to take place; after which they rode slowly and carelessly towards him, as if they by no means intended to hurry themselves in obeying his call. As they were some distance off, he dismounted from his horse, laid his rifle in the grass in front of him, and, lighting his pipe, prepared to smoke until they should reach him. He lay intently watching them as they drew nearer. He, however, soon discovered, from some peculiarity in their dress, that they were not Otoes, but, as he supposed, Kanzas, who were then at peace with his tribe.

Fearing nothing, therefore, he continued lolling on the grass and smoking. As they approached still nearer, their cautious movements awakened suspicion, and he began to doubt their being Kanzas. Raising himself, he sat earnestly watching them with every sense on the alert, though he continued to smoke his pipe with apparent tranquillity.

He now observed that they gradually separated, as if their object was to surround him as he sat. Another glance showed that they were Osages, the deadly foes of his tribe. Dashing his pipe to the ground, he bent hastily forward to seize his rifle. It was fortunate for him that he did so; for at the instant, a bullet, aimed at his heart, whizzed past him, cutting a deep gash in his shoulder. In an instant he sprang upon his horse. The Osage war whoop rang in his ear; but with that daring that never forsakes an Indian, he brandished his rifle in the air, and, raising his own answering war cry, dashed off like the wind. He had the start by only a hundred yards. Everything depended upon the speed and bottom of his horse; but he was a tried one, and nobly did his duty: hill and dale disappeared behind him. Scarcely had he vanished from the top of one ridge, ere his hoofs clattered over the top of the next. But his enemies pressed on at the same mad rate. The clang of their horses’ hoofs rang in the ear of the Otoe with a fearful clearness. Luckily they could not pause to take aim with their rifles. At two miles’ distance was a skirt of forest: it was growing dark, and could he but reach this he would be safe. His horse, however, was nearly broken down; he panted and staggered. The rider plied the lash with phrenzied fierceness; the generous animal taxed his strength to the uttermost; but nature was exhausted. Within a quarter of a mile of the timber he began to fail, when his rider sprang from his back and bounded forward on foot. A loud cry burst from his pursuers as they saw him abandon his horse; but there was little cause for the shout, for his speed nearly equalled that of their jaded steeds. He was within about a hundred yards of the thicket, when, finding that they could not overtake him, the Osages drew up and discharged their pieces. The bullets pattered among the leaves of the grove, but missed their mark. The Otoe turned half round, when on the border of the bushes, shook his rifle in the air, and, raising a yell of triumph, plunged into the thicket.

The advantage was now on his side, for the Osages dared not approach, lest he should fire upon them from his covert. They rode up and down for a time at a distance, vainly endeavouring to catch a glimpse of his figure; then returned across the prairie, contenting themselves with carrying off the deserted horse.