There was some reason for haste, for the fine weather did not promise to last long; heavy clouds rose in the west, which soon obscured the whole sky, and it became impossible, with neither sun nor stars to guide them, to keep anything near to a direct westward course, which they thought would take them to Fort McPherson.  
Nor could they tell in which direction they varied from it; but shoreward they were sure they were going, though they no longer hoped to effect a landing very near the fort they were seeking.
 
Vainly they had looked for land during the seemingly long night, and when daylight at length revealed it a few miles distant they coasted it for several hours in the hope of discovering some traces of others of their comrades who might have escaped from the wreck of the missing boat.
 
Not succeeding in this, they landed about nine o’clock in the morning, to rest, and to make their breakfast with the scant remains of the food which they had taken with them; and of which there was enough left only to sharpen their appetites, not to satisfy them.
 
The shore was low and marshy, and, although it was thickly wooded, they had no means of procuring game; and they soon departed in search of a more hospitable region.
 
Nearly the whole day was spent in this quest, and late in the afternoon they again debarked on a bolder shore in a prairielike region, with little timber in view, yet with some elevated land in the background.
 
 
Here they hoped to find some human habitation, and an hour’s search by the scattered party resulted in the discovery of a cluster of Indian wigwams, nearly a hundred and fifty in number, on the edge of a strip of woodland not far from the lake shore.
 
This was a doubtful advantage, for it was of course uncertain whether the savages—who were probably a branch of the Sioux nation—would prove friendly or hostile; but it was argued that from their position the Indians must have seen the boats coasting their territory, and that if they were evil-disposed they would already have attacked the white men while they were separated from each other.
 
They drew together for consultation, and being impelled by extreme hunger—and, indeed, by fear of starvation—they decided to apply to the red men for food.
 
They would not go in a body, but would send one or two of their number, in order that their own pacific intentions might be understood; for they thought it not improbable that the warriors of the little village, at least equal in number to their wigwams, were in the wood watching their movements.
 
“Let Joe go,” said Buffalo Bill. “The Indians are very partial to colored men, and——”
 
“Is dey?” said Congo, who, when sober, had a penchant for big words, and sometimes got hold of a larger one than he could manage. “Den dare sentiments isn’t ’ciprocated, sah—they’se not at all mutoo-toot-tual, sah!”
 
“And, besides, if the worst comes to worst, you owe me a life.”
 
“Yes—dat ar is fact, Massa Cody, but nobody pays debts nowadays, sah. De gemmen are all failin’, sah, an’ goin’ into solvency, and I don’t t’ink I can pay more’n twenty cents on de dollar on dat debt, sah.”
 
“Very good, Joe,” said the captain, “but suppose we should raise a purse for you of a hundred dollars. How then?”
 
“Well, sah, dat is anudder p’int of view. I’ll ’volve it a little. Maybe dar is nobody dar. Den you’ll gib it to me all de same?”
 
“Certainly.”
 
“And some day I’ll git up airly and run away. But maybe dey kill me?”
 
“I don’t believe they would, Joe.”
 
“Nor I, too—not ef I go polite, sah. But ef dey should, den my wife——”
 
“She shall have the money—oh, yes.”
 
“I’ll do it, sah. Jiminy, but I will! A hull hundred dollars earned in half an hour! It’s more’n I could save in t’ree years. Golly! I never saved anyt’ing yet. I ain’t afraid. I’ve seen Injuns afore now. I’ll go.”
 
The money was at once raised and put into the captain’s hands, and the negro, having inspected it to make sure that it was all right, prepared for immediate departure.
 
He received some instructions as to how he was to act, what he was to say if he could make the red men understand his language, and what gestures he was to make if they did not.
 
No weapon was allowed him, lest he should make indiscreet use of it and precipitate ruin upon the whole party.
 
In fact, there were no weapons in the company except one clumsy five-barreled revolver and three small pistols. In the wreck it had been all they could do to escape with their lives.
 
“Be sure to tell them that we are well armed,” said the captain, smiling, “but that we are good men, and do not want to harm them. Tell them we want nothing[222] but food and we will pay for that, and then we’ll go right away.”
 
They gave him some money in silver, and told him to give that to the Indians and to promise them as much more as soon as the provisions were sent.
 
“Be discreet, Joe, now, for everything depends on that,” said Cody. “Remember the ladies must not be endangered.”
 
“I will, sah; I’ll be bery ’screet.”
 
“And whatever happens don’t get angry. When you get near them stop and lay your hand on your heart—so—and point to the sky.”
 
Joe, in attempting to imitate the gesture of his instructor, put his hand on a region a great deal lower than his heart and one that might be considered the more immediate seat of suffering from his prolonged fasting.
 
This error being corrected, he was permitted to depart, and he set out with perfect confidence and with no small sense of the dignity of his mission.
 
The huts were about a mile distant, and he walked rapidly at first, but with more deliberation when he got within ordinary rifle shot of the settlement.
 
From this point he proceeded warily and with great vigilance, soliloquizing some; but, fearing that he might be overheard, he was very chary of his language.
 
“If de red debbils—gemmen, I mean—is gwine to fire I wish to gracious dey’d do it now,” he said, “before I git any closer and w’ile dare’s time to run. I can’t see nuffin’ movin’ ober dare.”
 
At a quarter of a mile from the village he stopped and bowed very low, cap in hand, and he repeated his performance every few rods as he proceeded, varying it at times by smiting his heart and pointing upward.
 
Still he saw nobody, and, although he believed the Indians were in hiding, near to or in their lodges, he[223] went forward, though with much trepidation, repeating in the intervals between his obeisances the only prayer he could recall to memory—beginning, “Now I lay me down to sleep.”
 
At the edge of the wood and not a dozen yards from the nearest wigwam, he stopped. After peering carefully around in all directions he called out:
 
“Is any of the gemmen or ladies to hum?”
 
Receiving no answer to this polite inquiry, he advanced near enough to one of the huts to look through an opening which served for a window and to obtain a view of the interior.
 
A glance showed him that no one was within, and he ventured to push aside the door or curtain of skin which hung before the entrance and walk in.
 
The building, if such it may be called, was conical or tentlike in shape, entirely made of saplings, and boughs, and bushes carelessly intertwined, and partly covered with skins.
 
A bed of the same material was in one corner of the lodge, on the bare earth, and a large log, hewn smooth on one side, served the purpose of a bench or settee.
 
A few cooking utensils of stone and iron completed the furniture, but that there was nothing edible in the room the hungry negro quickly ascertained.
 
He went out and entered another wigwam, with a similar result; but here everything bore the marks of a hasty evacuation.
 
A fire was burning outside the hut, within a little circular wall of stones: an iron kettle and a large gourd of water stood beside it, and near the door a few ears of dried corn had been dropped, evidently in the haste of departure.
 
These Joe pocketed, and then he continued his explorations, gaining courage as he proceeded, and scarcely fearing any longer that he should encounter a foe.
 
“Dey’re all run away,” he said, “and took dere victuals with ’em. Let’s try dis ’ere next one.”
 
To his surprise the next lodge which he entered had an inmate—a very old and decrepit Indian, who seemed neither able to work nor to stand, and whom his alarmed companions had evidently abandoned to his fate.
 
He was tall and gaunt, was dressed in a sort of tunic of dirty deerskin, with bead-embroidered leggings and moccasins of the same material; had heavy gold rings in his ears, a wampum belt about his waist, and an eagle feather fastened in his scalp lock.
 
He was seated on a pile of skins, chanting in a low voice, and he had probably decorated himself for the “happy dispatch” which he anticipated receiving at the hand of his visitor.
 
“Good mornin’, sah—sarvant, sah!” said Congo, bowing and scraping, as he caught sight of this strange individual. “Hope you’re quite well!”
 
The Indian bent his head a little lower, as if for the expected blow, and continued to sing.
 
“Neber mind de music now,” said the negro; “I’se in a hurry. Where’s all your folks?”
 
The old warrior looked up, and, seeing that his visitor was unarmed and was making pacific demonstrations, he gazed at and listened to him for some seconds in silence and amazement.
 
“Do you talky Englishy?” continued Joe, who seemed to think he would make himself more easily understood by this mode of speech.
 
The chief, for such he was, or had been in his better days, nodded emphatically, as if he would have said: “Yes, you have come to the right shop for English, my boy.”
 
 
What he did say was:
 
“Ess, me spokes him. Me Sioux, uh............