Yes, I was a smith, but I grew restless thinking of the western lands. At nights I would lie in my bed and think of all that vast, open land.
unridden and untouched. One day I shouldered a pack and started out." "There's no telling about wandering men," Talley commented. "They come from everywhere. I knew James Mackay. He was west in 1784, and again in '86, '87, and '88." Kemble agreed. "Truteau was an educated man. Jean Baptiste Truteau. He came from Montreal, taught school for a while in Saint Louis, I hear... that was about '74, but some years later he was in the Mandan villages, trading. He lived with the Arikara, too." We made our plans. Of the lands toward which we were moving we knew nothing but hearsay. There were furs... we did know that, and once in the mountains we had no doubt of our ability to find them.
For three days then we moved steadily toward the setting sun. We rode the flanks or point along with Buffalo Dog, and we saw no enemies. Several times we killed buffalo, and once an antelope. The Cheyennes were well supplied with meat, and the wounded brave grew better. Soon he could walk a little, and on the day we reached the hollow near the North Platte, he was able to ride. His name was Walks-By-night, and he had counted many coups.
He rode beside me. "Why do you give us meat?" he demanded.
"You need meat," I said.
He was not satisfied, but after a while he asked, "Where do you go?" "To trap fur in the western mountains," I said. "First, I must have horses. This," I said, "is a splendid animal, but he needs time to learn to feed upon your grasses. He will learn, but in the meantime he should not be ridden as hard as I must ride. I shall need a western horse." "I will give you a horse," Walks-By- Night replied. "When we come to our people, I have many horses." "It would be a great gift. I have nothing to give Walks-By-night." "You have given meat to my people. You have ridden beside us when the Utes might have come, or the Pawnees." To that I made no reply. Our presence might have contributed to their safety, and it was well that he believed so, for we wanted their friendship.
"You do not count coup? You take no scalps?" How to explain that without offending him or seeming weak? "The Great Spirit knows of my victories.
It is enough." "Your medicine is strong," he said.
Yet we rode with care. The air was cooler, the wind a little stronger, and the coulees deeper. The greater the distance from the settlements, the greater the danger. We were all aware of this, and aware, too, that we were being watched. Twice tracks were seen where horsemen had observed us for some time, and by now they knew our numbers. Without doubt they also knew of an encampment of Cheyennes to the west, toward which we were obviously pointing.
If they wished to destroy us, they must attack soon, and Walks-By-night was aware of this, as was Buffalo Dog.
We found a camp in a shallow place where there was green grass from a seep, and a few gooseberry bushes growing about. One lone ash tree grew nearby and there was a dead tree lying on the ground.
While the others made a fire, Walks- By-night and I rode a circle wide about the camp, scouting every rise in the ground, but we saw nothing but a few buffalo.
During the passing days, my meager supply of Cheyenne words had increased so that with it and what English Walks-By-night knew, we managed to communicate. I was also acquiring some skill with sign language, and then to my surprise I discovered that the Indian talked very passable French.
He shrugged at my astonishment. "Many French trapper," he said. "All the time they come.
Live in village. Ride with us. My people long time lived beside Great Lakes, then beside river far to north." "This is not your homeland then?" "No. My people lived north of Great Lakes in what you call Canada. The Cree were our people, too... far, far ago. All Indians have moved. No Indian lives where he once lived." "It is the same with us... with all peoples.
A long time ago our ancestors lived in what we call Russia... or beyond in Central Asia. Then they came west... many, many people came west, and some of them occupied empty lands, some took lands by driving others out." "They were white men?" "Yes. There was not one migration, but many. The horse made it easy for them to move, and with the horse to ride they became more powerful." "It was so with us," Walks-By-night said.
"The Sioux have become strong with the horses." We dismounted on a hillside. There in the sand around an anthill he drew me a rough picture of the western Great Lakes and showed me where once his people had lived and how they had moved west to the Sheyenne River in what was now the lands of the Dakotas or Sioux.
The Sioux had got the horse by trade or by theft from southern Indians who had them by theft from the Spanish. And once mounted the Sioux had pushed west from their homeland to conquer much of the Dakota lands of Nebraska, part of Montana and Wyoming.
It was growing darker. "Some say you people came from here"--I sketched in the northern steppes of Siberia--"and that you migrated across this water to America. They say my people came from here too." He put his finger on the western Tarim and southwestern Russia. "And you from here? Then once our people may have ridden together... there?" He put a finger making a wide sweep of Central Asia.
"It could be," I said. Standing up I gathered my reins and stepped into the saddle. "Your people went east and north, mine went west and south, and now we meet again... here." "It is far? This land we come from?" "Very far. Perhaps three hundred suns of riding ... perhaps more." "We have come far." He looked at me. "We have come far to fight again here." I smiled. "But not you and me, Walks-By- Night. I think there is friendship between us." I held out my right hand. "Between us let there never be blood." "Only of our enemies," he said.
So we rode into camp together, and dismounted by our fire.
"See anything?" Kemble asked.
"A few buffalo... nothing more." I cut myself a chunk of meat and began to roast it over the fire. Walks-By-night had gone down to his own people.
The meat smelled good, and I was hungry. I thrust a stick into the coals and a few sparks went up... disappeared.
I began to eat my meat and listen to the campfire talk.
CHAPTER 7
We were noticeably higher when we moved out in the morning, the air was cooler, and the vegetation was changing to shorter grass, drought-resisting plants. Yet it was the Cheyennes that interested me most of all, and whenever possible I led Buffalo Dog or Walks-By-night to talk of their people.
The horse had revolutionized the Cheyenne way of life, and once the horse had arrived in numbers, the Indians had almost ceased from planting, and had become meat eaters, buffalo hunters. Their way of life was in many ways easier as well as more dramatic. The Cheyenne lived upon the herds much as did the wolf, but the wolf could only kill the poorer stock while the Indian looked for fatter, healthier animals.
The white man, when he came in numbers, would do the same.
Yet much of their killing was wasteful, for often the Indians would stampede a herd over a cliff, killing great numbers, although much of the meat would inevitably rot. Such a way of life could support only a limited number of Indians, but constant warfare and occasional blood feuds kept down their ranks.
In the distance we could see a faint line along the horizon and gradually I began to realize it was a far-off mountain range. Excitement grew within me. Soon we would be there and settled down to the business of trapping.