They had
apparently been occupied the preceding autumn.
For several days they kept patiently on, watching every sign that might
give them an idea as to where they were, and how near to the banks of
the Missouri.
Though there were numerous traces of hunting parties and encampments,
they were not of recent date. The country seemed deserted. The only
human beings they met with were three Pawnee squaws, in a hut in the
midst of a deserted camp. Their people had all gone to the south, in
pursuit of the buffalo, and had left these poor women behind, being too
sick and infirm to travel.
It is a common practice with the Pawnees, and probably with other roving
tribes, when departing on a distant expedition, which will not admit of
incumbrance or delay, to leave their aged and infirm with a supply
of provisions sufficient for a temporary subsistence. When this is
exhausted, they must perish; though sometimes their sufferings are
abridged by hostile prowlers who may visit the deserted camp.
The poor squaws in question expected some such fate at the hands of
the white strangers, and though the latter accosted them in the kindest
manner, and made them presents of dried buffalo meat, it was impossible
to soothe their alarm, or get any information from them.
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