The pioneer West : $b Narratives of the westward march of empire
History
The pioneer West : $b Narratives of the westward march of empire
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.)
The Crows were questioning the Snakes about some scalps hanging on our
lodge-poles. They gave them the particulars of our encounter with the
Black Feet, how valiantly we had fought them, and how we had defeated
them. The Crows were highly gratified to see so many scalps taken
from their old and inveterate foes. They wished to see the braves who
had fought so nobly. I was pointed out as the one who had taken the
greatest number of scalps; they told them they had seen me fight,
and that I was a very great brave. Upon this I became the object of
the Crows’ admiration; they were very anxious to talk to me and to
cultivate my acquaintance; but I could speak very little of their
language.
One of our men (named Greenwood), whose wife was a Crow, could speak
their language fluently; he and his wife were generally resorted
to by the Crows to afford full details of our recent victory.
Greenwood, becoming tired of so much questioning, invented a fiction,
which greatly amused me for its ingenuity. He informed them that
White-handled Knife (as the Snakes called me) was a Crow.
They all started in astonishment at this information, and asked how
that could be.
Said Greenwood in reply, “You know that so many winters ago the
Cheyennes defeated the Crows, killing many hundreds of their warriors,
and carrying off a great many of their women and children.”
“Yes, we know it,” they all exclaimed.
“Well, he was a little boy at that time, and the whites bought him of
the Cheyennes, with whom he has staid ever since. He has become a great
brave among them, and all your enemies fear him.”
On hearing this astonishing revelation, they said that I must be given
to them. Placing implicit faith in every word that they had heard, they
hastened to their village to disseminate the joyful news that they had
found one of their own people who had been taken by the Shi-ans when
a _bar-car-ta_ (child), who had been sold to the whites, and who had
now become a great white chief, with his lodge-pole full of the scalps
of the Black Feet, who had fallen beneath his gun and battle-axe. This
excited a great commotion throughout their whole village. All the old
women who remembered the defeat, when the Crows lost two thousand
warriors and a host of women and children, with the ensuing captivity,
were wondering if the great brave was not their own child; thereupon
ensued the greatest anxiety to see me and claim me as a son.
I did not say a word impugning the authenticity of Greenwood’s romance.
I was greatly edified at the inordinate gullibility of the red man, and
when they had gone to spread their tale of wonderment, we had a hearty
laugh at their expense.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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