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The next morning, having
directed Delorier to repair with his cart to
the place of meeting, we came again to the
fort to make some arrangements for the
journey. After completing these we sat down
under a sort of perch, to smoke with some
Cheyenne Indians whom we found there. In a
few minutes we saw an extraordinary little
figure approach us in a military dress. He
had a small, round countenance, garnished
about the eyes with the kind of wrinkles
commonly known as crow's feet and surrounded
by an abundant crop of red curls, with a
little cap resting on the top of them.
Altogether, he had the look of a man more
conversant with mint juleps and oyster
suppers than with the hardships of prairie
service. He came up to us and entreated that
we would take him home to the settlements,
saying that unless he went with us he should
have to stay all winter at the fort. We
liked our petitioner's appearance so little
that we excused ourselves from complying
with his request. At this he begged us so
hard to take pity on him, looked so
disconsolate, and told so lamentable a story
that at last we consented, though not
without many misgivings.
The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's
real name proved utterly unmanageable on the
lips of our French attendants, and Henry
Chatillon, after various abortive attempts
to pronounce it, one day coolly christened
him Tete Rouge, in honor of his red curls.
He had at different times been clerk of a
Mississippi steamboat, and agent in a
trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides
filling various other capacities, in all of
which he had seen much more of "life" than
was good for him. In the spring, thinking
that a summer's campaign would be an
agreeable recreation, he had joined a
company of St. Louis volunteers.
"There were three of us," said Tete Rouge,
"me and Bill Stevens and John Hopkins. We
thought we would just go out with the army,
and when we had conquered the country, we
would get discharged and take our pay, you
know, and go down to Mexico. They say there
is plenty of fun going on there. Then we
could go back to New Orleans by way of Vera
Cruz."
But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter
volunteer, had reckoned without his host.
Fighting Mexicans was a less amusing
occupation than he had supposed, and his
pleasure trip was disagreeably interrupted
by brain fever, which attacked him when
about halfway to Bent's Fort. He jolted
along through the rest of the journey in a
baggage wagon. When they came to the fort he
was taken out and left there, together with
the rest of the sick. Bent's Fort does not
supply the best accommodations for an
invalid. Tete Rouge's sick chamber was a
little mud room, where he and a companion
attacked by the same disease were laid
together, with nothing but a buffalo robe
between them and the ground. The assistant
surgeon's deputy visited them once a day and
brought them each a huge dose of calomel,
the only medicine, according to his
surviving victim, which he was acquainted
with.
Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to
his companion, saw his eyes fixed upon the
beams above with the glassy stare of a dead
man. At this the unfortunate volunteer lost
his senses outright. In spite of the doctor,
however, he eventually recovered; though
between the brain fever and the calomel, his
mind, originally none of the strongest, was
so much shaken that it had not quite
recovered its balance when we came to the
fort. In spite of the poor fellow's tragic
story, there was something so ludicrous in
his appearance, and the whimsical contrast
between his military dress and his most
unmilitary demeanor, that we could not help
smiling at them. We asked him if he had a
gun. He said they had taken it from him
during his illness, and he had not seen it
since; "but perhaps," he observed, looking
at me with a beseeching air, "you will lend
me one of your big pistols if we should meet
with any Indians." I next inquired if he had
a horse; he declared he had a magnificent
one, and at Shaw's request a Mexican led him
in for inspection. He exhibited the outline
of a good horse, but his eyes were sunk in
the sockets, and every one of his ribs could
be counted. There were certain marks too
about his shoulders, which could be
accounted for by the circumstance, that
during Tete Rouge's illness, his companions
had seized upon the insulted charger, and
harnessed him to a cannon along with the
draft horses. To Tete Rouge's astonishment
we recommended him by all means to exchange
the horse, if he could, for a mule.
Fortunately the people at the fort were so
anxious to get rid of him that they were
willing to make some sacrifice to effect the
object, and he succeeded in getting a
tolerable mule in exchange for the
broken-down steed.
A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in
the mule by a cord which he placed in the
hands of Tete Rouge, who, being somewhat
afraid of his new acquisition, tried various
flatteries and blandishments to induce her
to come forward. The mule, knowing that she
was expected to advance, stopped short in
consequence, and stood fast as a rock,
looking straight forward with immovable
composure. Being stimulated by a blow from
behind she consented to move, and walked
nearly to the other side of the fort before
she stopped again. Hearing the by-standers
laugh, Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and
tugged hard at the rope. The mule jerked
backward, spun herself round, and made a
dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, who clung
manfully to the rope, went whisking through
the air for a few rods, when he let go and
stood with his mouth open, staring after the
mule, who galloped away over the prairie.
She was soon caught and brought back by a
Mexican, who mounted a horse and went in
pursuit of her with his lasso.
Having thus displayed his capacity for
prairie travel, Tete Rouge proceeded to
supply himself with provisions for the
journey, and with this view he applied to a
quartermaster's assistant who was in the
fort. This official had a face as sour as
vinegar, being in a state of chronic
indignation because he had been left behind
the army. He was as anxious as the rest to
get rid of Tete Rouge. So, producing a rusty
key, he opened a low door which led to a
half-subterranean apartment, into which the
two disappeared together. After some time
they came out again, Tete Rouge greatly
embarrassed by a multiplicity of paper
parcels containing the different articles of
his forty days' rations. They were consigned
to the care of Delorier, who about that time
passed by with the cart on his way to the
appointed place of meeting with Munroe and
his companions.
We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself,
if he could, with a gun. He accordingly made
earnest appeals to the charity of various
persons in the fort, but totally without
success, a circumstance which did not
greatly disturb us, since in the event of a
skirmish he would be much more apt to do
mischief to himself or his friends than to
the enemy. When all these arrangements were
completed we saddled our horses and were
preparing to leave the fort, when looking
round we discovered that our new associate
was in fresh trouble. A man was holding the
mule for him in the middle of the fort,
while he tried to put the saddle on her
back, but she kept stepping sideways and
moving round and round in a circle until he
was almost in despair. It required some
assistance before all his difficulties could
be overcome. At length he clambered into the
black war saddle on which he was to have
carried terror into the ranks of the
Mexicans.
"Get up," said Tete Rouge, "come now, go
along, will you."
The mule walked deliberately forward out of
the gate. Her recent conduct had inspired
him with so much awe that he never dared to
touch her with his whip. We trotted forward
toward the place of meeting, but before he
had gone far we saw that Tete Rouge's mule,
who perfectly understood her rider, had
stopped and was quietly grazing, in spite of
his protestations, at some distance behind.
So getting behind him, we drove him and the
contumacious mule before us, until we could
see through the twilight the gleaming of a
distant fire. Munroe, Jim, and Ellis were
lying around it; their saddles, packs, and
weapons were scattered about and their
horses picketed near them. Delorier was
there too with our little cart. Another fire
was soon blazing high. We invited our new
allies to take a cup of coffee with us. When
both the others had gone over to their side
of the camp, Jim Gurney still stood by the
blaze, puffing hard at his little black
pipe, as short and weather-beaten as
himself.
"Well!" he said, "here are eight of us;
we'll call it six—for them two boobies,
Ellis over yonder, and that new man of
yours, won't count for anything. We'll get
through well enough, never fear for that,
unless the Comanches happen to get foul of
us."
