They, who wade the Missouri, are the warriors of my great
father, who has sent them on his message; but we are peace-runners.
The white men and the red are neighbours, and they wish to be friends.
--Do not the Omahaws visit the Loups, when the tomahawk is buried in
the path between the two nations?"
"The Omahaws are welcome."
"And the Yanktons, and the burnt-wood Tetons, who live in the elbow of
the river, 'with muddy water,' do they not come into the lodges of the
Loups and smoke?"
"The Tetons are liars!" exclaimed the other. "They dare not shut their
eyes in the night. No; they sleep in the sun. See," he added, pointing
with fierce triumph to the frightful ornaments of his leggings, "their
scalps are so plenty, that the Pawnees tread on them! Go; let a Sioux
live in banks of snow; the plains and buffaloes are for men!"
"Ah! the secret is out," said the trapper to Middleton, who was an
attentive, because a deeply interested, observer of what was passing.
"This good-looking young Indian is scouting on the track of the
Siouxes--you may see it by his arrow-heads, and his paint; ay, and by
his eye, too; for a Red-skin lets his natur' follow the business he is
on, be it for peace, or be it for war,--quiet, Hector, quiet.
Pages:
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422