The Cree nation is considered very powerful, and numbers more than six hundred wigwams. This tribe is one of the most formidable enemies of the Black-Feet, and continually encroaches upon the territory of its adversaries. The preceding year they carried off more than six hundred horses. The actual limit of the country {170} they traverse extends from the bases of the Rocky Mountains, between the two forks of the Sascatshawin, some distance beyond the Red River. Their turbulent and warlike spirit, and rapacity for plunder, especially for horses, are among the great obstacles which retard the conversion of the larger portion of this tribe. The example of their brethren, who listen with docility to the exhortations of their zealous and indefatigable missionary will, we trust, produce fruit in due time, and be imitated by the entire nation. To give you an idea of their military discipline, and of the profound superstition in which these unfortunate people are still immersed, I will relate to you some of their proceedings. The Crees were meditating a deadly stroke upon the Black-Feet, and for this purpose they collected all their ready forces, amounting to more than eight hundred warriors. Before setting out in quest of the enemy, every species of juggling and witchcraft imaginable was resorted to, in order to secure the success of the expedition. It was decided that a young girl, with a bandage over her eyes, should be placed at the head of the Indian army, and thus blindfold, serve as a guide to the combatants. In case {171} of success, the heroine was destined to become the bride of the most valiant. According to the Oracle, none but the great _chief_ himself had the privilege of shoeing or unshoeing her. This concluded, they began their march, intoxicated with confidence and presumption, following this extraordinary guide over the hills and valleys, ravines, marshes, and swamps. One day she would direct her steps towards the north, the next to the south or west—the point of the compass mattered naught—the Manitou of war was supposed to guide her, and day after day the infatuated Crees continued to follow the steps of the blindfolded Indian. They had already penetrated far into the plain, when they were discovered by a party of seven Black-feet. The latter might easily have escaped under favor of the night, but the Partisan, or Black-foot Chieftain, a man of undaunted courage, determined to oppose this formidable force. With the aid of their poniards they made themselves a hollow, in which they took shelter.