“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.  One of his chief objects, as he gave out, was to kill an Indian; an exploit which he afterwards succeeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy of ourselves and others who had to pass through the country of the dead Pawnee’s enraged relatives.  Having become disgusted with his emigrant associates he left them, and had some time before set out with a party of companions for the head of the Arkansas.  He sent us previously a letter, intimating that he would wait until we arrived at Bent’s Fort, and accompany us thence to the settlements.  When, however, he came to the Fort, he found there a party of forty men about to make the homeward journey.  He wisely preferred to avail himself of so strong an escort.  Mr. Sublette and his companions also set out, in order to overtake this company; so that on reaching Bent’s Fort, some six weeks after, we found ourselves deserted by our allies and thrown once more upon our own resources.