Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2) — John Shaqi
Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2)Irving, John Treat
History
Indian sketches, taken during an expedition to the Pawnee and other tribes of American Indians (Vol. 1 of 2)
Irving, John Treat
Indians of North America -- Kansas; Indians of North America -- Nebraska; Pawnee Indians
A feeling of disappointment, mingled with sorrow, came over us as we
rode up to this solitary being. At a distance our fancies had painted
him possessed of all that was noble in the Indian character; but a
nearer view dispelled the illusion. He could not have been older than
thirty, but intemperance had left its mark upon his features. His
hair was thick and matted, and hung nearly to his eyes. His legs were
covered with leggings of deerskin, ornamented with a yellow binding.
Over a dirty calico shirt he wore a long surtout coat, with immense
brass buttons; and upon his shoulder he bore a very long and heavy
rifle.
He saluted us with the usual guttural salutation of “ugh!” and, turning
round, rode slowly ahead of our party. His horse was one of those tough
little Indian ponies celebrated for hard heads, hard mouths, hard
constitutions, and a fund of obstinacy which it would puzzle Satan
himself to overcome. He wriggled through the grass with a sideling
ricketty pace, that would have wearied any other than an Indian; and,
between the incessant drumming of the heels of the rider into the ribs
of his steed, and the jerking, hitching pace of the animal, I could not
well determine which underwent the most labour, the horse or his master.
He had not ridden in front of us long before we saw, at a distance,
another of the same class galloping towards us. He came forward over
the prairie at the full speed of a lean raw-boned nag; and we hoped to
find in him a character which might redeem the first, but in this we
were disappointed.
He was short and broad; dressed in a dirty calico shirt, and an equally
dirty and ragged pair of pantaloons. On his head was cocked, with a
very knowing air, a something which once might have been called a hat.
On his shoulder he carried a long rifle, while he plied its wiping rod
lustily upon the flanks of his horse until he reached the party.
After gazing at us with some curiosity, he rode off to our first
acquaintance. A short conversation then took place, after which they
thumped their heels into the ribs of their horses, and scampered off
over the prairie; rising at one moment over the top of some ridge, and
then again disappearing in the hollow which lay beyond it, until at
last we lost sight of them behind a grove which jutted out into the
prairie.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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