Incidents Among the Savages by David R Lewis

Author:David R Lewis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: native american, frontier, mountain men, 1800s western, 1800s america, american westward expansion
Publisher: David R Lewis

I have spoken of the Redman’s flair for drama and impact. This was paramount in my mind as I prepared for our expedition of horse thievery. Taking a portion of cotton cloth left from Blain and the others, I tore it into rough squares and tied them up as a sack would be, filling each with a handful of gun powder. That task completed, I placed about a half-pound of the substance in a thin leather bag and secured all of them to my saddle. After charging my weapons I led the bay to Didn’t-Run’s lodge and found him prepared to leave. We rode quietly out of camp as dawn colored the eastern sky.

For most of the day we traveled toward the southeast, conserving our horses as much as possible. We were prepared to ride two or three days to find suitable prey, but in the late afternoon Didn’t-Run began to bristle like a hunting hound, and I felt a presence near our location. We slipped into cover and hid ourselves until dusk. As the light left, so did my companion, only to return a short time later.

“All is well,” he said, containing his excitement. “There is a band of six Crows and twelve horses camped in some saplings by a spring only a short distance away. We nearly rode up on them. How could this happen? Have your powers been reduced by love?” I gave him my best gaze of intimidation, and he went on. “I believe these Crows to be raiders, for two sentries are posted, they have many weapons, and all the ponies are tied to a long line. It is perfect.”

I stripped naked and Didn’t-Run painted my entire body in black and white stripes. He painted my face white, with vermillion applied in streaks, as if I were bleeding from the eyes, nose and mouth. That task over, I tied the small bags of powder about my waist on a thong, grabbed the full buckskin pouch, and we were off; me itching like the very devil, Didn’t-Run carrying a cured bearskin and attempting not to laugh.

After we located the camp, my accomplice circled to the opposite side while I squatted in cover and waited. The Crows, save for two sentries, had settled in for the night and were asleep, or nearly so, when Didn’t-Run began to perform. From the other side of the group I heard a “bear” grumble. The sentries were instantly alert and on their feet, peering into the night. The bear began to roar and moan, and I could glimpse snatches of Didn’t-Run’s furry form in the bushes at the edge of the firelight.

As the roars and grunts grew louder those sleeping were awakened, and the Crows stood together, eyes searching the darkness, weapons at the ready. The men were huddled, backs to me, on the opposite side of the fire from where I hid. Grasping opportunity, I tossed my buckskin bag into the blaze. In a moment, the powder caught with a

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