Silverland | Page 9

us 9150 feet above the sea-level. Crossing a deep rugged ravine, early on the morrow, near the Black Hills (the rocks were the very reddest of granite), we got our first and last taste of all the 'savage grandeur' we had looked to find hereabouts. And so, through ever deepening snow-cuttings, we crept on to Laramie long familiar to us by name.
Six trains lay in port here; and on the morrow the whole Imge caravan set forward the intelligent Superintendent " hoping that, with luck, we might fetch Ogden within the week." But he looked almost too intelligent as he spoke; and there was something ominous in his courteous advice to such as had letters to post, " not to hurry themselves." Moreover, we discovered that the provision-train in attendance carried a full month's provender.
Constantly slackening speed, often stopping, not seldom backing a furlong or so, our carriage sides grating and rasping along the high snow-walls, we made a kind of progress, till, at sundown, some forty miles from Laramie, we came to a full halt.
On the period of rebuke and blasphemy ensuing it is not pleasant to dwell; though it was certainly an 'experience' in its way.
There could be no fear of privation in a Palace Car, chartered and commanded by the Commodore. The prairie-hens, and other delicacies laid in at Chicago, held out bravely; there was wealth of all manner of drink, simple and compounded; and, whether by day or night, our sable servitors were 'all there,' Steady whist, at dollar points, was usually available; varied by occasional plunges in the perilously fascinating "Poker." On one occasion, I remember, we sat down 'just to while away an hour before turning in: 'we were still whiling,' when, almost simultaneously, through the curtained window of our state room peered in the pale winter sun, and the scandalised face of the" bride. There was no lack of light literature on board; furthermore, two or three of our company had stories of personal adventure to narrate, with a real ring in them, which they told graphically.
Here, I first began to understand the intense bitterness of feud which prevails, and, in spite of preachers and politicians, must prevail along the Indian frontier. The chief spokesman on this subject, though he had, of necessity, been out more than once on the foray, seemed, by nature, little prone to take offence, or think evil of his neighbour: no wild roysterer, or vaunting Drawcansir; but a gentle, domestic being, whose thoughts, even in his schemes of profit, turned oftenest, I am sure, towards the pleasant homestead, just without the hum of San Francisco, where his young wife sat alone. Directly this theme was broached, the man seemed utterly transformed; his quiet face would flush darkly, whilst an evil light came into his eyes, and liis discourse contrary to its usual tenor was larded with strange oaths.
"There's only one good Indian; and that's a dead one" was the essence of his simple creed; and I believe it to be shared by many, not really harder of heart than the mass of the humanitarians.
There is not a little of the 'platform' about all this philanthropy, you must remember; and it is tainted occasionally by the spirit of lucre to boot. The chief 'sympathisers' stand, perhaps, above suspicion; but Indian agents, unless they are belied, are less scrupulous than the average of public functionaries; and it may be doubted if the full tale of the subsidies chiefly of goods voted annually, ever reaches the Redskin. The fraud, not the good intent, is set down in the account; and * Spotted Dog,' or l Flying Cloud,' or whatever other name the chief rejoices in, leaves the Agency with more malice than gratitude at his sullen heart.
To judge the question fairly, you must clear your mind of the Mohican ideal. It would be easier to find Phyllis and Corydon in our Black Country, than Uncas or his sire in Nebraska or Arizona. Possibly, the virtue of stoical endurance does still abide with the dregs of the race; but their brute courage seems a thing of the past: of late years instances can scarce be quoted of Indians confronting armed whites, unless at absurd numerical odds. Does it avail to speak of honour to negociators whose diplomacy is founded on broken treaties; of chivalry to warriors who count babies' curls and girls' tresses among their scalp-locks the last, perhaps, shorn from heads bowed to the dust with the agony of shame; of mercy or charity to those whose outrages are wreaked on the dead? For mutilation is carried to a science; so that eyes, versed in these ghastly characters, can tell, looking at a corpse, whose hands have been busy in the massacre.
I shall have occasion hereafter to record testimony bearing on