Part 20

The mountain sheep are large and very strong; they will throw themselves from a rocky cliff and strike on their head many feet below unharmed, being protected by horns and stout necks. They are larger than our domestic sheep.

The antelope is a pretty, gazelle-like creature, fleet and agile in springing up and running. Having passed over the Union Pacific Railroad many times, it has been my pleasure to see them running away from the train in droves of a dozen or more, in file one after the other, till out of sight, far away over the bluffs. By-and-by they will disappear as the buffalo have, driven away by approaching civilization. The young are easily caught and tamed, and make nice pets for children. The cost of one here is usually five dollars. They are hunted a good deal for their meat, as antelopes are tender and sweet to the palate. One method in hunting them is to raise a white or red flag, and the silly creatures, full of curiosity, will turn and walk towards it till shot down by the marksman.

The prairie-dog is an animal peculiar to the plains. He is found in what is called a "dog-town;" being a plot of a few acres, as seen alongside the railroad, after a day and night's ride, dotted over with mounds a foot or so high. Sometimes a thousand or more congregate in the town, and their holes are a few rods apart. When approaching these towns, or the cars pass along, you see them scamper off to the top of the mound, stand up on their hind-legs and bark, shaking their little short tails at each bark, and presently plunge head first into their holes. They are of a brown color, size of a squirrel, but with tails an inch long. I tried to drown out some, and poured several barrels of water into a hole without bringing any out. These holes ramify into others, generally, so it was impossible, in my experience, though others do get hold of a single hole, and drown them out. Rattlesnakes and small owls make their homes with them. These are interlopers, as the prairie-dogs dig the holes down about three to four feet. They can be tamed, as I know by experience, having carried several east to Chicago, to my Sunday-school children.

One night in Colorado, on the Cache le Poudre River, while camping out there (having gone with a detective in search of horse-thieves), I heard a terrible clatter among the prairie-dogs late in the night. It was explained to me by the ranchman, who said they were in the habit of changing their domiciles once a year, and it was only effected after a great struggle and fight among themselves. By sunrise, four o'clock in the morning, all was still; and the little fellows were running about in search of roots, upon which they live all winter, down in their dark, deep holes. They belong to the species marmot, and are said to be good eating. I have never tried them. Friday, Arapahoe chief, told me that the Indians make use of their oil to cure rheumatism.

A NIGHT SCENE.

The Bishop of Nebraska visited the Pawnee reservation, near Columbus, and the head chief had just before lost his only son by death. He was feeling very unhappy about it, and he told the interpreter to say to "The little medicine-man-in-the-big-heap-sleeves," "That he had lost his son, and was feeling very heavy here" (laying his hand upon his heart); adding, "All is dark, and I want him to tell me what the Great Spirit has got to say to me in my sorrow."

The bishop said, "Tell him that we have a prayer in the book, we always say, 'for persons in affliction;' we will all kneel down and repeat it sentence by sentence, and remain in silent prayer." There in the shadows of the evening, a few whites mingling among the dusky faces, as the lights shone upon their bent forms, prayer was offered for consolation and healing of the poor old man's heart. It was a solemn scene, and many sobs were heard from the Indian women. After a little while, all rose up from their knees, and the tall chief, standing erect, said, with beaming eye, "Say to the Father, say to him, it's all gone! all gone!" He added, "We are glad to hear such words from the Great Spirit. We have been told many words from our fathers many moons since; they have told us good words; that when we do wrong the Great Spirit is angry with us. Sometimes we forget what they told us, and do wrong, killing one another. Now, we are told you have a good book that tells you all you ought to do; and if we had it and could read it in our tents, maybe we would be better. But we are too old to learn it now. Teach it to our children,--teach it to our little ones!" What an answer to prayer!

THE MISSION HOUSE.

The chapel and the mission-house, which is the home of the Santee Sioux, were mainly built by the Indians. A hospital is to be built soon for them, mainly through the Christian efforts of William Welsh, Esq., of Philadelphia.

INDIAN LANGUAGE, COUNTING, ETC.

Wah-ge-la, one. Cow or ox, dib-lish. Numpa, two. Candle, pal-a-za-zar. Zomina, three. Cat, how-i-win-go-lar. Do-be, four. Boy, ox-i-la. Yap-ta, five. Girl, wi-tin-chil-a. Sha-ko-pe, six. Small, chu-chil-la. Shoko, seven. Hat, por-ta. Sho-go-lo-ra, eight. Snow, of-hene. Nim-chalk, nine. Pot or kettle, mushta. Wieh-grin-ina, ten. Good, wash-ta. Dog, sumka. Don't know, so-lo-wash-ta. Horse, tu-gon-ka. To-morrow, umpa.

Major Van Voost, at Fort Kearney, always told the Indians who begged, "Yes, call to-morrow." So they kept calling, and finally gave him the name "Umpa."

INDIANS ATTACK LIEUT. W. DOUGHERTY--FIGHT BETWEEN FORTS FETTERMAN AND RENO.

Lieutenant D---- started down from Fort Reno in the month of March, 1868, and when within seventeen miles of Reno, he was attacked by a band of Indians while he and his escort of a sergeant, eight men, four citizens, two teamsters, and servant, were eating supper at Camp Dry Fork, on Powder River. The distance between the two posts is ninety-five miles. Springing to their feet, the soldiers fought off the Indians till they could harness the teams and start for Fort Reno. The fight was very severe, the Indians having every advantage of position, as they skulk over the bluffs and come in upon soldiers and others when least expected. By a bold dash at them, Lieutenant D---- succeeded in driving them off. They had shot an arrow into the shoulder of a dog belonging to one of the soldiers. The dog ran towards Reno, carrying the arrow all the way (seventeen miles), sticking into the poor creature's hide, causing him immense pain. And when he came in, his appearance apprised the commanding officer of the condition Lieutenant D---- and his handful of men were in, and he at once sent a reinforcement of two companies to rescue the besieged. This was the only way they had of knowing that the party were attacked, and no wonder it was regarded as a providential circumstance.

All reached Fetterman in safety the next evening, and the dog is still a hero among the boys of Company D, 18th United States Infantry.

SPEECH OF "WHITE SHIELD," HEAD CHIEF OF THE ARICKAREES.

FORT BERTHOLD, D. T., July 2d, 1864.

I speak for my brothers, the Arickarees, Gros Ventres, and Mandaris. We all live in peace in the same village, as you see us. We have a long time been the friends of the white man, and we will still be. Our grandfathers, the Black Bear of the Arickarees, and the Four Bears of the Gros Ventres, were at the treaty with our white brothers on the Platte a long time ago. They told us to be the friends of our white brothers, and not go to war with our neighbors, the Dakota Sioux, Chippewas, Crees, Assinaboines, Crows, or Blackfeet.

We listened to their words as long as they were heard in council. They have both been killed by the Dakotas; we have none left among us who heard the talk at the treaty on the Platte.

We want a new treaty with our Great Father. We want him to tell us where we must live. We own the country from Heart River to the Black Hills, from there to the Yellowstone River, and north to Moose River.

We are afraid of the Dakotas; they will kill us, our squaws and children, and steal our horses. We must stay in our village for fear of them. Our Great Father has promised us soldiers to help us keep the Dakotas out of our country. No help has come yet; we must wait. Has our Great Father forgotten his children? We want to live in our country, or have pay for it, as our Great Father is used to do with his other red children. We, the Arickarees, have been driven from our country on the other side of the Missouri River by the Dakotas. We came to our brothers, the Gros Ventres and Mandans; they received us as brothers, and we all live together in their village. We thank our brothers very much. We want our Father to bring us guns to hunt with, and we want dresses, coats, pants, shirts, and hats for our soldiers, and a different dress for our chiefs. We want a school for our children. Our hearts are good. We do not speak with two tongues. We like to see our white brothers come among us very much. We hear bad talk, but have no ears. When we hear good talk, we have ears.

his WHITE x SHIELD. mark

To our Great Father in Washington.

INDIAN TRADING.

A bargain is never concluded so long as anything more can be obtained by an Indian from a white man. This feature of Indian character is very old indeed. I remember, when a child, that when one gave his brother a ball, or anything, and took it back again, he was called "an Indian giver." Mr. Hinman gives this experience: "If an Indian (not a Christian) gives, he expects soon to ask more in return. This is the selfish habit of all heathen, and when they have power, they often accompany their demands for gifts with threats of killing one's horse, etc., if their demands are not complied with. They seem to know nothing of disinterestedness, except among persons nearly related. An Indian will press you with his pipe one day, and the next, with a polite speech about not intending to ask pay for his pipe, which he treasured highly, intimates that he needs a blanket!

"One will offer to assist you to work for a day, and the next ask to borrow two dollars. They try to get you so indebted to them for favors, that you cannot decently refuse their requests. In all their speeches they try to prove to you that you are indebted to them." So one will ask as few favors of them as possible. He says, "I was surprised at the Yankton agency, to have some young men offer, without any pay, to cut all the timber and do all the work on a building for the council-room for the Mission. The change came sooner under their limited instruction than I had expected, and almost immediately the chief, 'Swan,' offered to cut logs and build a house for a chapel-school at his camp, opposite Fort Randall. The chief, Mad Bull, offered the same for the other end of the reservation, near Choctaw Creek.

"Among those heathens that have borne Christian fruits with the Santees, is 'Little Pheasant,' chief of the wild Brule Sioux, who came down to restore to the Yankton reservation some stolen horses, and promised Paul Mazakuta to take a list of his men desiring instruction. God is moving the hearts of these wild Indians in a wondrous way.

"At our Sunday evening service, over a hundred Yankton warriors and chiefs were present. I preached from the parable of the prodigal son. At the end of this passage, 'Though the elder brother be still jealous of the kindness and mercy shown to you, and thinks your people only fit to go down to the grave with the beasts that perish, yet God is good and just; and though long lost and wandering so many years, now found at last, He will lead you safely to his home.' Dulorio, a chief, said, 'Oh, my friends, this is where we all ought to cry Ko (yes) with a loud voice!' But the chief, 'Swan,' replied, 'True, true, Koda (friend); but men must not applaud in church. The words they give us ought to be laid up in our hearts.'