We found our horses at the door, saddled and bridled, and held by two negro boys, who, judging by the tugging, pulling and scolding which they kept up, found it something of a task to restrain the fiery steeds, which were impatient to be off. As I have told you about our dogs, I will say a word about these horses. One of them has considerable to do with my story.

The most prominent animal in the group was Herbert’s horse, a magnificent iron-gray, large and good-natured like his master, very fleet, and able to carry his heavy rider like a bird over any fence in the country. He went by the name of Romeo.

The handsomest horse belonged to Duke Hampton. He was a chestnut-sorrel, with white mane and tail, and four white feet. He 18was a good one to go, and was as well trained as any horse I ever saw in a circus.

He would lie down or stand on his hind feet at the command of his master, and pick up his gloves or riding-whip for him. His name was Moro.

The homeliest horse was called Beauty. He was a Mexican pony, and belonged to Mark. He was a famous traveler—he would go on a gallop all day, and be as fresh and eager at night as when he started out in the morning; but he was so handy with his heels, and had such an easy way of slipping out from under a fellow when he tried to mount him, that, with the exception of his master, who thought him the very best horse in the world, there was not a boy among us who would have accepted him as a gift. But bad as Beauty’s disposition was, it was much better than that of Sandy’s mare, which answered to the name of Gretchen.

She was named after Rip Van Winkle’s wife. She was a large, raw-boned, cream-colored animal, and had an ugly habit of laying back her ears and opening her mouth, when 19any one approached her, that would have made a stranger think twice before attempting to mount her.

The fleetest, as well as the gentlest horse, was my little Black Bess. She was a Christmas present from an uncle who lived in Kentucky; and I thought so much of her that I would have given up every thing I possessed, rather than part with her.

I said that Bess was the swiftest horse in the group. She had demonstrated the fact in many a race, but somehow I never could induce the others to acknowledge it. Sandy stubbornly refused to give up beaten, and so did Herbert; and even Mark, with his miserable little pony, made big pretensions.

We never went anywhere without a race; and on this particular morning Herbert, who was the first to swing himself into the saddle, leaped his horse over the bars, and tore down the road as if all the wolves in Warren County were close at his heels.

I was the last one out of the yard, but I passed every one of our fellows before I had gone half a mile, and when I reached the outskirts 20of the Indian camp, they were a long way behind.

The camp, as I saw it that afternoon, did not look much like the illustrations of Indian villages which you have seen in your geographies. Instead of the clean skin-lodges, and the neatly-dressed, imposing savages which you will find in pictures, I saw before me a score of wretched brush shanties, which could afford their inmates but poor protection in stormy weather, and a hundred or more half-starved men and women, some of whom were jumping around in the mud and yelling as if they were greatly excited about something.

There were plenty of these people in Warren County at the time of which I write. They were Choctaws—the remnant of a once powerful tribe, who gained a precarious living by hunting, fishing, stealing and cotton-picking. This band had been encamped on our plantation during the last two weeks. The women had been employed by father to pick cotton, and their lords and masters were now having a glorious time over the money they had earned.

21The warriors—lazy dogs, who thought it a disgrace to perform any manual labor—had remained in their wigwams, passing the days very pleasantly with their pipes, while their wives were at work in the cotton-field; but now that the crop had been gathered and the money paid, they had thrown away their pipes and picked up their bottles. In plainer language, we rode into the camp just in time to witness the beginning of a drunken Indian jubilee.

The men were dancing, shouting, fighting, wrestling, going half-hammond (a Northern boy would have called it a “hop, skip and a jump”), and trying to run races; while the women stood around in little groups, chattering like so many blackbirds, and watching all that was going on with apparently a great deal of interest.

I do not suppose that the Indian boys drank any thing stronger than the muddy water that flowed in the bayou, on the banks of which the camp was located; but, at any rate, they seemed to be animated by the same spirit that possessed their fathers, for we saw them engage 22in no end of fights, foot-races and wrestling matches.

Presently a smart, lively young savage, the son of the principal chief of the band, who had easily thrown every one of his companions whom he could induce to wrestle with him, stepped up to us, and fastening his eyes upon Mark, asked him if he would like to come out and try his strength. Now, if Mark had been in good health, the challenge would have been promptly accepted; and if I am any judge of boys, that young Indian would have found himself flat on the ground before he could have winked twice; but he was just recovering from an attack of his old enemy, the chills and fever, and for that reason was obliged, much to his regret, to turn a deaf ear to the Indian’s entreaties.

“Oh, yes, you come,” said the young wrestler, after Mark had told him, perhaps for the twentieth time, that he was out of condition; “I show you what Indian boy can do. I put you down as quick as lightning. Eh! You come?”

As he spoke he stepped back and spread out 23his sinewy arms, as if waiting for Mark to jump into them.

“Go off about your business, Jim,” said Duke. “Haven’t you sense enough to see that the boy has had the ague? If he was well, he would throw you or any other young Indian in the camp. Go away now, I tell you, or I’ll take hold of you; and if I do, I will put you down a little quicker than lightning.”

“Isn’t he a splendid-looking fellow?” said Mark, gazing admiringly at the young savage’s supple form, which, cold as the day was, was stripped to the waist. “Look at the muscles on his arms! I believe I’ll try him just one round.”

“Don’t do it, Mark,” I interposed.

“Well, if you say so, Joe, I won’t; but I should really like to take a little of that conceit out of him. I’ll soon be up to my regular wrestling weight,” he added, addressing himself to the Indian, “and then I will see what you are made of.”

“Ugh!” grunted Jim. “I wait for you.”

We spent an hour walking about the camp, and then returned to the house. The jubilee was 24kept up all night, and we went to sleep with those wild Indian whoops ringing in our ears. To me there was something almost unearthly in the sound, and I thought I could imagine how our early settlers felt when they were aroused from their sleep at dead of night by just such yells uttered by hostile red men.

The next day our fellows accompanied some of the settlers on a deer-hunt—all except Mark, who, being too weak to ride all day on horse-back, remained at home with his hounds for company; and, for want of something better to do, assisted the plantation blacksmith at his work by blowing the bellows for him.

The Indians were quiet all the morning, no doubt making up for the sleep they had lost the night before, but about eleven o’clock they began their dancing and shouting again. After that, Mark did not perform his part of the work very well, for his attention was fully occupied by the sounds that came from the camp.

Finally the horn was blown for dinner, and Mark started toward the house. Just as he was passing through the gate that led into the garden, 25he was startled by a loud yell, which was followed by a great commotion in the kitchen, and the next moment out came mother and half a dozen young lady visitors.

A very fat negro woman brought up the rear, carrying in her hand a platter of roast beef, which she was too badly frightened to put down, and the screams that saluted Mark’s ears were almost as loud and unearthly as those which came from the Indian camp. He did not like the look of things, but, being a resolute fellow, he determined to find out what was going on in the house. He had two friends upon whom he could rely in any emergency, and, with a word to them, he was off like a shot.

“Oh, don’t go in there!” cried mother, when she saw him running toward the kitchen, followed by his hounds. “He will kill you! He’s got a big knife!”

Mark, who was too highly excited to hear any thing short of a terrific peal of thunder, kept on, and when he reached the door discovered the cause of the disturbance in the person of a tall, dignified-looking Indian, 26who was acting in a very undignified manner.

As Mark afterward learned, the savage had walked into the parlor, where all the ladies were sitting; thence into the kitchen, where active preparations for dinner were going on, attracting the attention of the cook by flourishing a knife, and uttering an appalling yell; after which he made known the object of his visit by exclaiming:

“Ugh! Me big Injun, an’ me hungry.”

The yell and the sight of the knife occasioned a hurried stampede among the women, and the savage, being left alone, proceeded to help himself to what he liked best.

The table was loaded with good things, but there was not so very much left upon it by the time this uninvited guest had got all he wanted. He filled his mouth, and his arms, too, and when Mark discovered him he was walking through the sitting-room toward the porch, demolishing a custard-pie as he went.

Mark was impulsive, and, without stopping to consider what might be the consequences of the act, he started in hot pursuit of the Indian, 27resolved to punish him for what he had done, and to teach him better than to take such liberties with what did not belong to him.

He came up with the robber just as he was about to descend the steps that led down from the porch. The latter, wholly intent upon his meal, never thought of looking for an enemy in the rear, until Mark dashed against him like a battering-ram—an action which caused the Indian to flourish his heels in the air, and fall headlong to the ground, scattering the bread, meat, pies and cakes, with which his arms were loaded, about in all directions. Mark followed him down the steps, not to attack him, of course, but to keep off the hounds, which would have torn the savage in pieces if they had not been restrained.

“Don’t let those dogs hurt him,” said mother, who had mustered up courage enough to come back to the house.

“No, ma’am,” replied Mark. “Now, old fellow,” he added, as the robber rose slowly to his feet, “you had better take yourself off. Your room suits us better than your company.”

28But the savage had no intention of taking himself off. He glared fiercely around him for a moment, and finding that he was opposed by nothing more formidable than a few frightened women, a boy of sixteen and a couple of dogs, he caught up his knife, and gave a war-whoop.