The pioneer West : $b Narratives of the westward march of empire
History
The pioneer West : $b Narratives of the westward march of empire
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.)
by the heartily disgusted member of the medical fraternity as he rushed
from the lodge.
Other members of our small party had entered other lodges, only to find
them, like the first, deserted. But little of the furniture belonging
to the lodges had been taken, showing how urgent and hasty had been
the flight of the owners. To aid in the examination of the village,
reinforcements were added to our party, and an exploration of each
lodge was determined upon. At the same time a messenger was despatched
to General Hancock, informing him of the flight of the Indians. Some
of the lodges were closed by having brush or timber piled up against
the entrance, as if to preserve the contents. Others had huge pieces
cut from their sides, these pieces evidently being carried away to
furnish temporary shelter to the fugitives. In most of the lodges the
fires were still burning. I had entered several without discovering
anything important. Finally, in company with the doctor, I arrived
at one, the interior of which was quite dark, the fire having almost
died out. Procuring a lighted fagot, I prepared to explore it, as I
had done the others; but no sooner had I entered the lodge than my
fagot failed me, leaving me in total darkness. Handing it out to the
doctor to be relighted, I began feeling my way about the interior of
the lodge. I had almost made the circuit when my hand came in contact
with a human foot; at the same time a voice unmistakably Indian, and
which evidently came from the owner of the foot, convinced me that I
was not alone. My first impression was that in their hasty flight the
Indians had gone off leaving this one asleep. My next, very naturally,
related to myself. I would have gladly placed myself on the outside
of the lodge, and there matured plans for interviewing its occupant;
but unfortunately to reach the entrance of the lodge I must either
pass over or around the owner of the before-mentioned foot and voice.
Could I have been convinced that among _its_ other possessions there
was neither tomahawk nor scalping-knife, pistol nor war-club, or any
similar article of the noble red man’s toilet, I would have risked an
attempt to escape through the low narrow opening of the lodge; but who
ever saw an Indian without one or all these interesting trinkets? Had
I made the attempt, I should have expected to encounter either the
keen edge of the scalping-knife or the blow of the tomahawk, and to
have engaged in a questionable struggle for life. This would not do. I
crouched in silence for a few moments, hoping the doctor would return
with the lighted fagot. I need not say that each succeeding moment
spent in the darkness of that lodge seemed like an age. I could hear a
slight movement on the part of my unknown neighbor, which did not add
to my comfort. Why does not the doctor return? At last I discovered
the approach of a light on the outside. When it neared the entrance I
called to the doctor and informed him that an Indian was in the lodge,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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