We were not long in approaching it, for
we rode at speed the greater part of the way. Laramie Creek still
intervened between us and the friendly walls. Entering the water at
the point where we had struck upon the bank, we raised our feet to
the saddle behind us, and thus, kneeling as it were on horseback,
passed dry-shod through the swift current. As we rode up the bank, a
number of men appeared in the gateway. Three of them came forward to
meet us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw; Henry Chatillon followed
with his face of manly simplicity and frankness, and Delorier came
last, with a broad grin of welcome. The meeting was not on either
side one of mere ceremony. For my own part, the change was a most
agreeable one from the society of savages and men little better than
savages, to that of my gallant and high-minded companion and our
noble-hearted guide. My appearance was equally gratifying to Shaw,
who was beginning to entertain some very uncomfortable surmises
concerning me.
Bordeaux greeted me very cordially, and shouted to the cook. This
functionary was a new acquisition, having lately come from Fort
Pierre with the trading wagons. Whatever skill he might have
boasted, he had not the most promising materials to exercise it upon.
He set before me, however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt
pork. It seemed like a new phase of existence, to be seated once
more on a bench, with a knife and fork, a plate and teacup, and
something resembling a table before me. The coffee seemed delicious,
and the bread was a most welcome novelty, since for three weeks I had
eaten scarcely anything but meat, and that for the most part without
salt. The meal also had the relish of good company, for opposite to
me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. If one is anxious thoroughly to
appreciate the value of a congenial companion, he has only to spend a
few weeks by himself in an Ogallalla village. And if he can contrive
to add to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhat critical illness,
his perceptions upon this subject will be rendered considerably more
vivid.
Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the Fort. I found him
established in his old quarters, a large apartment usually occupied
by the absent bourgeois. In one corner was a soft and luxuriant pile
of excellent buffalo robes, and here I lay down. Shaw brought me
three books.
"Here," said he, "is your Shakespeare and Byron, and here is the Old
Testament, which has as much poetry in it as the other two put
together."
I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of that day
lay on the buffalo robes, fairly reveling in the creations of that
resplendent genius which has achieved no more signal triumph than
that of half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and unmanly character
of its possessor.
CHAPTER XX
THE LONELY JOURNEY
On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I were lounging on
two buffalo robes in the large apartment hospitably assigned to us;
Henry Chatillon also was present, busy about the harness and weapons,
which had been brought into the room, and two or three Indians were
crouching on the floor, eyeing us with their fixed, unwavering gaze.
"I have been well off here," said Shaw, "in all respects but one;
there is no good shongsasha to be had for love or money."
I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excellent quality,
which I had brought from the Black Hills.
"Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's chopping-board, or give it to
that Indian, and let him cut the mixture; they understand it better
than any white man."
The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and the tobacco in
due proportions, filled the pipe and lighted it. This done, my
companion and I proceeded to deliberate on our future course of
proceeding; first, however, Shaw acquainted me with some incidents
which had occurred at the fort during my absence.
About a week previous four men had arrived from beyond the mountains;
Sublette, Reddick, and two others. Just before reaching the Fort
they had met a large party of Indians, chiefly young men. All of
them belonged to the village of our old friend Smoke, who, with his
whole band of adherents, professed the greatest friendship for the
whites. The travelers therefore approached, and began to converse
without the least suspicion. Suddenly, however, their bridles were
violently seized and they were ordered to dismount. Instead of
complying, they struck their horses with full force, and broke away
from the Indians. As they galloped off they heard a yell behind
them, mixed with a burst of derisive laughter, and the reports of
several guns. None of them were hurt though Reddick's bridle rein
was cut by a bullet within an inch of his hand. After this taste of
Indian hostility they felt for the moment no disposition to encounter
further risks. They intended to pursue the route southward along the
foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort; and as our plans coincided with
theirs, they proposed to join forces. Finding, however, that I did
not return, they grew impatient of inaction, forgot their late
escape, and set out without us, promising to wait our arrival at
Bent's Fort. From thence we were to make the long journey to the
settlements in company, as the path was not a little dangerous, being
infested by hostile Pawnees and Comanches.
We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there still another re-
enforcement. A young Kentuckian of the true Kentucky blood,
generous, impetuous, and a gentleman withal, had come out to the
mountains with Russel's party of California emigrants.
