OTHER BOOKS

BY

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL.

"Jack's gun was at his shoulder, he fired."—Page 174

JACKAMONG THE INDIANS

OR

A BOY'S SUMMER ON THE BUFFALO PLAINS

BY

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

Author of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," "Pawnee Hero Stories," "Blackfoot Lodge Tales," "The Story of the Indian," "The Indians of To-day," etc.

Illustrated by

EDWIN WILLARD DEMING

NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1900, By Frederick A. Stokes Company

My Dear Nephews and Nieces:—

A long time ago, before any of you were born, great herds of buffalo fed on the western plains, and wild Indians lived by hunting them. They ate the flesh, wore the skins as clothing, slept in lodges made from the hides, and fashioned tools from different parts of the buffalo's body.

There were few settlements, and as the buffalo roamed far and wide over the treeless land, the Indians followed them; for then both were free. Often a tribe was obliged to defend itself against the attacks of enemies; and its young men often made war journeys into hostile country. Though the daily life of the village was quiet and simple, yet sometimes it was interrupted by most exciting incidents and adventures both of hunting and fighting.

You listened attentively to the story of "Jack, the Young Ranchman," and I hope that you will like to learn what Jack did the next season, when he spent the summer with the buffalo eaters of the Northern Plains, hunted their game, fought their enemies and lived their life.

Your affectionate Uncle.

New York, Sept. 1, 1900.

CONTENTS.

[Pg 1]

Jack Among the Indians.

CHAPTER I. BACK TO THE RANCH.

The train rushed down the hill, with a long shrieking whistle, and then began to go more and more slowly. Thomas had brushed Jack off and thanked him for the coin that he put in his hand, and with the bag in one hand and the stool in the other now went out onto the platform and down the steps, Jack closely following. The train had almost stopped, and Jack bent forward over the porter's head to try to see the platform and to learn who was there to meet him. Suddenly he caught sight of three horses grazing not far from the station, and he shouted, "Oh, there's Pawnee! Look, Thomas! that's my riding-horse; that brown with the saddle on."

"That's yours, is it, Master Jack? He's a good one; I can see that from here. Are you going to ride out to the ranch?"

"I don't know," said Jack, "but we must be, I guess." And then, as he jumped down off the step and saw Hugh walking toward him, he shouted, "Hello, Hugh! I'm glad you've come for me. Isn't[Pg 2] this bully? Good-bye, Thomas." And, taking his bag, he started running to meet Hugh.

"Well," said the old man, as he gave him a cordial hand clasp, "I am sure glad to see you, son. You got here all right, and on time. Didn't have no accidents, I expect?"

"No," said Jack, "I'm all right. Isn't it great to be here again. I don't know when I've been so glad before. I've been thinking about this time ever since I left here last fall."

"Well," said Hugh, "we're all right glad to have you come back again. I don't expect you've got any baggage except this, and there ain't nothing to wait for; we might go over and put the bag on the pack-horse, and start. I've been here ever since last night, and I've had enough of this town."

"We're going to ride then, are we? That's better fun than going in the wagon. I thought when I saw Pawnee that maybe that was the way you'd fixed it."

"Yes," said Hugh, "I expect you ain't done much riding since you left here, and we've got a long way to go, and I thought maybe it would be a good thing to begin breaking you in to the saddle right off. How does it suit you?"

"Splendid," said Jack. "We can make better time on horseback than we could in the wagon, and I'm mighty anxious to get to the ranch and see everybody again. How's the elk?"

"He's all right; fat, and just about half shed off; he looks kind o' ragged, but before long, when his old coat's gone, he'll be smooth as silk and pretty as a picture."

[Pg 3]

"That's good, and how are the ducks?"

"They're all right, too," said Hugh, "barring a couple that got killed only a few days ago. I don't rightly know what 'twas that killed 'em, but I reckon 'twas a bob-cat. I seen the tracks of one in the brush the last snow we had, and a few days afterward one of your ducks disappeared one day while they was out down to the brook, and two days afterward the old black tom-cat was gone, and two or three days afterward another duck. I never did see anything of the ducks, but I found the bones of the old tom-cat up in the brush a little while afterward, and there was a lot of fur in his claws, and it was bob-cat hair. Since that second duck got taken I haven't let them birds out except when I was there to watch 'em, and keep my eye on 'em all the time."

"I'm sorry those ducks got killed," said Jack, "I was in hopes they'd breed this year, and we'd have a lot of young ones."

"Well, maybe they will, but they've got to be watched, or else they've got to have some sort of a pen built for 'em, because you see, they can't fly, and it's mighty easy for anything to catch 'em."

By this time they were close to the horses, and Jack ran up to Pawnee and began to talk to him and pat him. The horse put his ears forward and arched his neck over Jack's shoulder, rubbing his head against him, as if he really knew who it was and was glad to see the boy back again. Meantime, Hugh was gathering up the ropes, and coiling them and putting them on the saddles. He bridled his own horse, and Jack did the same for Pawnee, both throwing down the[Pg 4] reins; then the cinches of the pack saddle were tightened, and the bag quickly lashed in place.

"You better put your gun in your scabbard, son, and put some cartridges in your pocket; might be such a thing as you'd see something you'd want to shoot." Jack did so, and then they mounted and started off at a good lope over the prairie. Jack's heart was swelling with delight as he felt the cool wind on his face, and smelt again the odour of the sage, and saw the familiar birds rising from the ground and flying ahead, and alighting again in the road before them.

"I saw quite a lot of antelope from the train as we came along this morning, Hugh," he said. "I suppose there are plenty of 'em out at the ranch."

"Oh, yes, there's plenty of antelope. That bunch that used to live over in the pasture have just come back, and will be there all summer, I expect."

"Have you killed much game this winter?" said Jack.

"Well, no," was the reply, "not what you'd call much. We've had fresh meat right along, elk and blacktail and antelope. Early in the winter, just before we had that big storm, I went over to Point-of-rocks and killed three sheep; that's about the only thing out of ordinary that's been done."

"Three sheep! I wish I could get a chance to kill one. I've never even seen a sheep, and I want to get a shot at one most awfully."

"Well," said Hugh, "likely while we're up north we'll get a chance to; there's plenty of sheep in the Missouri River bad lands, and in the bluffs of the [Pg 5]Yellowstone, and of course in the mountains. The Piegans, you know, don't go much into the mountains, but they kill quite some sheep in the bad lands, and on some of the buttes. Now, the Sweet Grass Hills are a great place for sheep; we're likely after we get to the Piegans to camp close to them, and maybe we can make a hunt up there for two or three days. I ain't a mite afeared but what you'll have chances at sheep before summer's over."

"Gracious! buffalo and sheep! That would be enough hunting for one summer, I should think. You're sure that when we go north we'll have plenty of buffalo hunting?"

"Lord, yes," said Hugh, "there'll be buffalo a plenty long after you and I are both dead."

By this time they had passed through the breaks and crossed the river, and come up over the hill, so that they could see the great lone mountain, where the road turned off to the right. "Oh, there's Bent Rock Mountain! that looks good, don't it, with the gray rocks and the black cedars scattered all over it. Now, there are sheep there, Hugh; don't you ever hunt there?"

"No," said Hugh; "there's a little bunch of sheep there, but they're mighty hard to get at, and I don't bother with 'em."

They rode on down the hill at a swinging canter, splashed through the stream, turned to the right and went up by the mountain, past the place where about a year before Jack had seen his first grizzly, and then turning to the left, galloped along across the undulating sage-brush prairie. The pack horse all the time[Pg 6] was following close at their heels; his load was light and he knew that he was going home, and required no driving.

Suddenly, as they rode over the crest of one of the prairie swells, which gave a little wider view than most of them, Jack saw quite close to them a cow running hard, with head down and tongue out, and right at her heels a big wolf, and a little behind that, another. Just as they came in sight, the leading wolf sprang forward and caught the cow by the flank, and though it seemed impossible that so small an animal should throw one so large, the cow fell prone upon the prairie. While all this was passing before Jack's eyes, Hugh's horse stopped, his rider swung out of the saddle, his gun came to his shoulder, and as the smoke leaped from it, the second wolf fell. Jack had not been long enough on the prairie to act quite as quickly as Hugh; it took him a second or two to drag his gun from its scabbard and to spring from his horse, but the wolf that had pulled down the cow had not run more than a few yards before he fired at it; it gave a dismal howl, but still kept on; he shot again, and again the wolf yelled, but still it ran. It was almost on top

of the hill now, when Hugh fired, and it disappeared. They jumped into their saddles and rode to the place, and found the wolf just kicking in the death struggle.

"Well," said Hugh, "that's a good job, anyhow. There's been a heap o' wolves round this winter, and I'm glad we got these two. I wish we'd come a minute earlier, so's to have saved that cow."

"Do you think she's dead, Hugh?" said Jack.

"I expect so," said Hugh. "I've seen a heap o'[Pg 7] cattle killed by just one bite from a wolf; often it didn't seem if 'twas a bad bite either. I've sometimes thought that maybe they was just scared to death. I expect, though, we'll find that cow dead." By this time the wolf had ceased to struggle, and Hugh, picking it up, threw it across his saddle, and they walked back to the cow and the other wolf, which lay within three feet of each other. As Hugh had thought, the cow was dead, though the wound in her flank did not seem to be a severe one. Evidently she had been chased for some distance, for on her neck and shoulders there was froth from the mouth, showing that she had run a long way. Hugh turned her over and looked at the brand on her side. "Well," he said, "it's one of Powell's cows. The wolves do seem to pick out his cows, and do him a heap o' harm. Nice cow, too; in good order. I hate to see this beef go to waste. I believe I'll butcher her, so she won't spoil, and maybe your uncle will want to send down a wagon to-morrow and bring the

meat into camp. While I'm doing that, do you expect you could skin one of them wolves? I reckon you'd like to save them hides; they're in pretty fair order, for they haven't begun to shed out much yet. While you're doing it you might look and see where your bullets hit the wolf you shot at. I expect I can tell you why he didn't fall right off when you shot. You're out of practice, and you drawed your sight too coarse. You hit him both times, but kind o' creased him instead of hitting him where the life lay. You ain't forgot how to shoot, but you've got to learn your gun over again."

While Hugh was opening the cow and removing the[Pg 8] entrails, Jack took out his pocket knife and began to skin the wolf. Luckily he had had his knife sharpened just before he left home, and so he worked pretty fast, and before Hugh had left the cow and begun to skin the other wolf, Jack was half through with his. They finished skinning at about the same time, and Hugh tied the two hides on the pack-horse; then he lit a pipe, sat down and smoked for a while.

"I don't grudge the time we took to kill these wolves," he said. "Killing wolves is part of the work on a ranch, just like taking calves out of a snow-bank, or branding colts is. It's something that's got to be did, and like all other work it takes time. Where did you find them bullet holes of yours, son?"

"I found them just where you said they'd be, Hugh. One of them had just cut the skin on the back, and the other went through just over the shoulders, and nicked one of the shoulder-blades."

"That's what I thought," said Hugh; "you've got to fire a few shots and learn over again just how to hold your gun, if you want to drive nails. Now, let's go along. I'd like to get to the ranch as near supper time as we can."

They mounted and rode on. The wind was now blowing so hard that, although they rode side by side, they could not talk to each other without shouting. The horses were fat and fresh, and mile after mile disappeared swiftly under their ringing hoofs. Every few minutes Jack saw some place that was familiar to him, and wanted to ask Hugh something about it, but a few attempts convinced him that it was useless to try to talk in the wind. Now and then a bunch of antelope[Pg 9] were seen off to one side, or a jack-rabbit jumped up from under a sage brush, and raced off, or a single sage-hen rose from the ground and scaled off down the wind. As they climbed more slowly the divide which led up to the valley where the ranch was situated they passed through a village of prairie dogs. These had not long since awakened from their winter sleep, and were busy plucking the young grass, now just appearing above the ground, and only those nearest the road paid any attention to the horsemen. Now and then little bunches of horses were passed, still clad

in their winter coats, which hung down a hand's breadth below their chins and necks and bellies. With them they could see now and then tiny colts, which kept close to their mothers' sides, feeling that only there were they out of danger. At the edge of the dog town a badger was seen, nosing along through the sage brush, and Jack reached down his hand to get his gun, but looking at Hugh saw him shake his head, and understood that he did not wish to wait.

The sun had nearly reached the western mountains when they rode down into the Swiftwater Valley, and though they galloped along at a good pace, it was long after dark before the lights of the ranch house met their eyes. A little later they halted before the barn.

"Now, son, you're here again, and this time I expect you don't need no looking after. We'll unsaddle here; you hang your things up on the old peg, and we'll leave the horses in the stalls to-night."

A few moments later, carrying their guns and Jack's bag, they stepped into the kitchen of the ranch, and were warmly welcomed by all hands.

[Pg 10]

CHAPTER II. A GLANCE BACKWARD.

It was late May at the Swiftwater Ranch; back in the east it would have been summer, but here the snow was falling heavily, and being whirled about the buildings by the high wind, piling up in drifts on the leeward side, and being swept off the ground to windward. Down in the bunk-house Jack Danvers and Hugh Johnson were sitting on the floor near the warm stove, looking over pack-saddles, cinches and ropes, for they were preparing to make a long journey.

Only the day before Jack had reached the ranch from New York, after an absence of seven months, and all his friends there were glad to see him again. During the winter he had succeeded in persuading his parents to consent to his making the long trip up north to the Piegan camp, of which Hugh and John Monroe had talked to him the year before. Mr. Sturgis, his uncle, wished to have him go, and had said that he was willing to let Hugh be absent from the ranch during the time needed for the journey and the stay in the Indian camp. This would be not less than four months, for it would take them a month to reach the camp, and nearly as much more to return, and it was not worth while to make so long a trip unless they were to stay with the Indians two or three months.

[Pg 11]

It will be remembered by those who have read the adventures of Jack during his summer spent on Mr. Sturgis' ranch, that he had learned a good deal about life in the west;—to ride and shoot and throw a rope—and had been taught by Hugh much of the knowledge required by one who lived the open-air life of mountain and prairie. Hugh had said, and Jack's uncle agreed with him, that they two could perfectly well make the journey to the north. There was only one possible cause of anxiety, and that was the chance that they might meet with some party of hostile Indians, in which case they might have to fight for their lives. There was not much danger that this would happen, for spring had but just opened, the grass was only now beginning to start; the Indian ponies, which are always thin in flesh at the end of the winter, would not have become fat; and so it was too early for war parties to be moving about much. On the other hand, the riding and pack animals taken by Hugh would be fat and in good condition, and so, well able to run away from any

pursuers. It had been determined, too, to select horses that were fast, and when these precautions had been taken, and Hugh's great knowledge of Indians and their ways was considered, the danger of trouble appeared very slight.

Mr. Sturgis was extremely fond of Jack, and dearly loved his sister, and he would not for a moment have thought of letting the boy run any risks.

"I didn't hardly know you yesterday, son, when you got off the train; you seem to have changed a heap since you went away from here last fall. You're sure grown; you're a heap taller than you were, and[Pg 12] you look kind o' white and bleached out, like you'd faded."

"I guess that's so, Hugh," replied Jack, "I know I've grown pretty near two inches, for I was measured last fall, when I entered school, and again this spring when I left, and of course I'm white, because I've been living in a house ever since I got back, and haven't been out of doors at all."

"Well, what did ye do all winter?" said Hugh; "went to school, I reckon, and learned a whole lot. Study hard?"

"Yes, I studied hard. Of course I wanted to do well, but after I'd been back a little while, I thought that maybe if I worked right hard at school, and got good reports right along, father would be more willing to have me come out here again and spend the summer with you."

"Well, that was pretty good sense. I expect ye tried to keep him pleased with your schooling right along."

"Yes, I did," said Jack. "I told Uncle Will about it soon after I started in at school, and he said it was a mighty good idea, and I'd better keep it up. I don't know whether they would have let me come or not, if it hadn't been for Uncle Will. When he left home in the spring I heard him say to mother, 'Jack's been working hard all winter, and he's getting to look pretty thin and white; I really think you'd better send him off to me again in a month or two, for that long trip that he and Hugh have been planning.' So along in April I spoke to father about coming out again. He said he was willing I should come if mother was,[Pg 13] and that he'd talk to her about it; so after a while it got so that we all of us talked it over together, and at last father and mother both said that I could come; and here I am, and mighty glad to get back here, too, you bet."