November and December are the months during which to find the buffalo wearing the most expensive clothes; his robe during these months is at its best. All of which the Indian is quite as well aware of as the trader, and hunting is brisk and work plenty with every band of redskins on the Range; food may be an incentive too, but the robe is certainly a prime object for the energetic hunting that the Indian does at this season of the twelvemonth. formance as a means of securing some relief | that were found at different points in the walfrom the vermin with which he is at times sore- low. ly afflicted, for, they say, you see that he does it when he can get mud after a rain, and thus cover his hide with earth. Very true; but I have noticed them at this performance when there was only dust in the wallow, and very dry dust too. My idea is that the chief reason for the wallow is that the buffalo finds it necessary to assist the shedding of the hair which he loses during the spring and early summer of each year, and that he has recourse to the wallows for this purpose almost entirely. You will not, indeed, find much hair in the wallows. The strong afternoon wind of the Plains would quick-and incessant labor that is necessary to proper ly blow this away; but kill a buffalo early in the summer, when the hair only hangs to the flanks in short tufts, and you will find that he has dusted these tufts, and his whole skin for that matter, with a liberal coat of fine earth. The Plains man is familiar with another use which may be made of the buffalo wallow. It is to him an earth-work, from which a desperate and frequently successful resistance may be made against a numerous party of Indians. I remember one wallow that my attention was attracted to by noticing that there had been a track beaten about the wallow by the unshod hoofs of Indian ponies; a track circling the wallow at a distance of nearly two hundred yards from it, that was as plain as a beaten road. The ground near the wallow was strewn with arrows. The whole story seemed to be told by the four piles of exploded rifle-caps The squaws are busy with their work of curing the robes and jerking the meat. The hard ly "Indian tan" a robe is not easy to realize unless one may see the work go on day by day from the first step, which is to spread out the pelt or undressed hide upon the ground, where it is pinned fast by means of wooden pins driven through little cuts in the edge of the robe into the earth. The flesh side of the robe, being uppermost, is then worked over by two, and sometimes three, squaws. The tools used are often very rude, some being provided simply with sharp stones or buffalo bones. Others, more wealthy, have a something that much resembles the drawing-knife or shave of the cooper. The work in hand is to free the hide from every particle of flesh, and to reduce the thickness of the robe nearly one-half, and sometimes even more. This fleshing, as it is termed, having been satisfactorily accomplished, the hide is thoroughly moistened with water in sessor, who takes care to make great parade of all such articles as may be likely to excite the envy of the habitants of neighboring tepes. which buffalo brains have been steeped; for an indication of wealth on the part of the posten days the hide is kept damp with this brainwater. Once each day the hide is taken up, and every portion of it rubbed and rerubbed by the squaws, who do not have recourse to any thing like a rubbing-board, but use their hands until it would seem as if the skin would soon be torn off. There seems to be no definite rule as to the length of time which the robe shall occupy in curing. The squaw labors until the hide becomes a robe, which may require the work of one week or two, sometimes even more; but I think that ten days may be considered as the average time which it takes to properly cure a robe. I have not the space here to go into a lengthy account of the different modes of dressing the skins which the Indians use for tents (tepes) and clothing. Some skins from which the hair has been removed are as white as the paper on which this article is printed. The painting and decorating of a robe is the work of much time, and for the extremely rude materials employed by the squaws in the work a result is attained which is highly creditable to the uneducated and somewhat savage wives and daughters of "Nasty Elk," or whatever euphonious term the master of the lodge may see fit to designate himself by. But this work increases the price of a robe, and is generally only expended upon a robe that is to be used in the family, and not as a means of obtaining sugar, coffee, calico, and other coveted articles which are of use to the Indian, and serve as VOL. XXXVIII.-No. 224.-11 In "old times," said Colonel Saint Vrain to me when I last saw him at the little New Mexican pueblito of Mora, "the Indians came to the posts when they had any trading to do; camped near by, and did their trading; settled little disputes among themselves; had ponyraces with the mountaineers that had come in with pelts, and a sort of good time generally. If you could have seen the old trading post that stood where Bent's Old Fort now stands, on one of these trading visits, you would have seen a sight worth remembering. We did not let many Indians into the fort at a time, and those who were in had to exhibit good behavior or none at all. There have been more than forty thousand robes sent out from that post as the result of one year's work. There was money in the trade then, but now- Well, there's but few of the traders who go out to the villages with an outfit but what might have found quite as good employment for themselves in some other line of business." The Colonel's stories of the wild scenes of gambling that the Indians indulged in at their villages near the post, and the "nice row" they would occasionally kick up among themselves, certainly indicate that there must have been a much more plenteous supply of whisky within the reach of the Indians than there is at the present time when a trading outfit goes into and the privilege of feeding probably the largest camp in an Indian village. family which the village contains. Next, Then the white men were the masters of the I must dwell just a little on this family joke. situation; now it would seem that the Indian All the food which the trader has is expected has quite the first voice in the trade. Not a to be shared by this family. The quantity of comfortable thing for the trader; but how is bread and other white-man food which is dethe individual to help himself after he has will-voured by this family may be said to gnaw a ingly placed his outfit in the midst of an Indian large hole into the profits of the trip. encampment, situated maybe many miles from any post or fort? I fear that the too shrewd, driving Yankee outwitted himself when he thought to take to himself the cream of the trade by proceeding directly to the Indian villages with trading goods, rather than to await the coming of the Indians to the neighborhood of a trading post or government fort. A first-rate trading outfit consists of four or five large wagons, each with a four or six mule team. The wagons are loaded with blankets, cloths of different descriptions, calico, flannel, flour, sugar, coffee, trinkets of all kinds-such as beads, small mirrors, square plates of German-silver, and the like. To enumerate the stock of the Indian trader I should be forced to go into a long disquisition showing what possible use could be made of many of the articles comprised in the outfit. Sometimes the trader carries his own tent, but more often he depends upon the hospitality of the Indians. The party will consist of five or six men, of these two must understand the language of the band that is to be traded with, and if possible the whole party is previously well known to the head chief of the band. Upon the arrival of the trader at the Indian village the chief assigns him a tepe, which he may make his abiding-place. This would seem an act of Indians flock to the trader to tell him that they have "a heap of mighty fine robes," but they want to see some of the trader's stock to discover whether it is good before they can trade with him. This means presents. The chiefs must have something in the way of presents too, and not a small something either. The old women are, to use the language of an old Indian trader, "the loudest beings on a beg that ever stood on leather." But this is not the end of give and take; the evening following the arrival of a trader in the village is almost sure to be a season devoted to the execution of a performance known as a "begging dance." This is certain to make a somewhat heavy draft on the trading goods; and this is not all, for a continual and persistent beg is kept up during the entire stay of the trader in the village or in its vicinity. I have taken pains to state thus particularly the drain which the trader's stock must meet before trading opens, that it may not seem that the trader got "too much robe for too little sug" (sugar), as the Indian will always aver. The currency used in Indian trading is much like this: 10 cups of sugar make one robe. 3 ponies make one tepe. kindness on the part of Mr. Big Injun, but- A ten-dollar bill is also a "robe;" but, as may Well, the trader has a tent to call his quarters, be supposed, as it takes but seven pounds of su gar to fill the trading cup ten times, the trader is uncommon among the southern Indians, but frequently met with in trading with the Sioux. We will leave the Range with the trading outfit, and note as day by day we journey eastward how the grim white skulls which but a few days since dotted the Plains so thickly are less seldom seen; chips (bois de vache) are scarcer; the trails fewer and not freshly mark The ques As the robes are secured the trader has them arranged in lots of ten each, with but little re-ed with the thousands of sharp hoofs that but a gard for quality other than some care that par- few years since cut them out deep and strong, ticularly fine robes do not go too many in one to mark where the Range was but is now no lot. These piles are then pressed into a com- longer. pact bale, by means of a rudely constructed affair composed of saplings and a chain. The trader does not leave the village while there is a skin to be traded for, or until his goods are exhausted. I have simply referred to the trading for buffalo-robes as this is supposed to be a buffalo article, but traders will, as a rule, pick up all manner of things-horses (sometimes branded U. S.), mules, cattle, white prisoners, etc., etc. That there may be found among the adventurous men who seek their fortunes in this not entirely safe business persons who seemingly would sell their souls for a consideration I have no doubt. I have not met them. On the contrary, some of the best men on the frontier are Indian traders, and these will show you that it is not only unwise to sell whisky, fire-arms, and ammunition to the Indians, but it is absolutely unprofitable, and not, as a usual thing, put up for "the outfit." Of the different robes the Comanche is perhaps the best in its dressing, but the fur is not likely to be so good as that of the Sioux dressed robe. The only way of accounting for this is the fact of climate, the Comanche being a southern Indian, and the Sioux ranging far to the north. The Sioux robe is not, however, so well dressed as either the Comanche or Kiowa robes. What is known as the split robe-that is, a robe which has been divided in two parts and is sewn together after it has been dressed The outfit is in the settlements. tion is, how to dispose of the furs? The two great gatherers or collectors of buffalo-robes are Charles Bates, of St. Louis, and Durfree, of Leavenworth. Their combined collections during a single year have amounted to over two hundred thousand robes; and the entire stock collected may be said to reach, during good years, nearly a quarter of a million of skins; of these two-thirds are said to find their way to the New York market, where they are classed as first, second, third, and calf. At present the prices paid by large dealers in New York, who buy by the hundred bales, is something like $16 50, $12 50, $8 50, this being the prices for first, second, and third rate skins. skins bring from $3 50 to $4, and are not much dealt in. The great collectors are said to hold their robes for the market sometimes as long as three or four years, this being done when the market does not range to suit them, though one would think that controlling the trade as they do they might dictate the prices of the robe. A few untanned robes are sent to New York from Texas, but there is no particular price demanded or paid for them; in fact, I do not think that they are mentioned in the fur market. Calf Think, as you tuck the warm robe about you for your joyous sleigh-ride, this winter skin of the bison was once the very best clothes of a roamer over "the Buffalo Range." N1 INE months ago, that is in April, 1868, we had something to say touching our friend Paul du Chaillu. He had written more than one very good book designed for grown-up readers. Then he wrote a book for Young Folks, wherein he told something of his adventures in the Gorilla Country, closing it with the words: "Au revoir;' that means good-by till I come again." He has now come again, and a more welcome visitor it would be hard to name. There are three great travelers whom the Editor of this Magazine knows well, and whom at various times he has specially introduced to its readers. The scenes of their explorations lie far apart, all of them being in regions heretofore almost unknown. No three men can be found differing more widely in personal appearance. Mr. CHARLES F. HALL, to whom it has been reserved by his own individual labor to clear up the mystery of the fate of Sir John Franklin and his associates-a task which had been vainly attempted by expeditions fitted out by the Governments of Great Britain and the United States-born, we think, certainly reared, in the Great West-is a man of large frame, with light hair, blue eyes, and flowing beard, a very Viking in aspect; rather slow of speech-a man whom upon first introduction one would be apt to set down as the most diffident person he ever met. Mr. JOHN ROSS BROWNE, now American Minister to China, born in Ireland, but Wild Life under the Equator; narrated for Young People. By PAUL DU CHAILLU. Harper and Brothers, New York. from boyhood an American, is rather above middle height, spare of figure, with scanty dark hair, broad forehead, and the general air of a scholar rather than of an explorer. Mr. Du CHAILLU-our "Friend Paul"-is, though born in America, of French descent, and educated in France; and while he writes our language with perfect facility, and speaks it with fluency, it is with a marked Parisian intonation. He is hardly five feet four in stature, and slight in form; we doubt if he weighs a hundred pounds. His closely-cropped hair is as black as a raven's wing; and were it not for the flashing of a most brilliant black eye, he is about the last man whom one would dream of being the most daring traveler of our day. To these three we add the name of another whom we only know from his books, but who yet always seems to us like a personal friend: DAVID LIVINGSTONE, Scotch by birth, but African by long residence and wide travel. A spare, wiry man of middle stature—we judge from his portrait-with strongly marked and rather rugged features; by no means a notable-looking personage. But all these three men whom we know possess one characteristic in common. They are lovable men, Children-those instinctive judges of human nature-take to them at once. Let either of them be seated at your fireside, and in half an hour-you can not tell how-all your Young People will be clambering around them. So, too, with uncivilized men, who are but big children, and quite often very bad ones. They take to these men. Livingstone also clearly |