The circus had ended. The lateness of the hour was unobserved by any
one until John Levering asked me if he should bring in my horse. It
lacked less than half an hour until the guards should change, and it
was high time our outfit was riding for camp. The innate modesty of my
wrangler, in calling attention to the time, was not forgotten, but
instead of permitting him to turn servant, I asked him to help our cook
look after his utensils. On my return to the wagon, Parent was trying
to quiet a nervous horse so as to allow him to carry the Dutch oven
returning. But as Levering was in the act of handing up the heavy oven,
one of Forrest’s men, hoping to make the animal buck, attempted to
place a briar stem under the horse’s tail. Sponsilier detected the
movement in time to stop it, and turning to the culprit, said: “None of
that, my bully boy. I have no objection to killing a cheap cow-hand,
but these cooks have won me, hands down. If ever I run across a girl
who can make as good pies as we had for supper, she can win the
affections of my young and trusting heart.”
CHAPTER XVII.
WATER-BOUND
Our route was carrying us to the eastward of the Black Hills. The
regular trail to the Yellowstone and Montana points was by the way of
the Powder River, through Wyoming; but as we were only grazing across
to our destination, the most direct route was adopted. The first week
after leaving the Niobrara was without incident, except the meeting
with a band of Indians, who were gathering and drying the wild fruit in
which the country abounded. At first sighting their camp we were
uneasy, holding the herd close together; but as they proved friendly,
we relaxed and shared our tobacco with the men. The women were nearly
all of one stature, short, heavy, and repulsive in appearance, while
the men were tall, splendid specimens of the aborigines, and as uniform
in a dozen respects as the cattle we were driving. Communication was
impossible, except by signs, but the chief had a letter of permission
from the agent at Pine Ridge, allowing himself and band a month’s
absence from the reservation on a berrying expedition. The bucks rode
with us for hours, silently absorbed in the beeves, and towards evening
turned and galloped away for their encampment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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