of the interview was, that Cameron made the Indians a present of tobacco and a few trinkets, and sent them back to their friends to tell them that he was willing to trade with them.
Next day the whole tribe arrived in the valley, and pitched their deerskin tents on the plain opposite to the camp of the white men. Their numbers far exceeded Cameron’s expectation, and it was with some anxiety that he proceeded to strengthen his fortifications as much as circumstances and the nature of the ground would admit.
The Indian camp, which numbered upwards of a thousand souls, was arranged with great regularity, and was divided into three distinct sections, each section being composed of a separate tribe. The Great Snake Nation at that time embraced three tribes or divisions—namely, the Shirry-dikas, or dog-eaters; the War-are-ree-kas, or fish-eaters; and the Banattees, or robbers. These were the most numerous and powerful Indians on the west side of the Rocky Mountains. The Shirry-dikas dwelt in the plains, and hunted the buffaloes; dressed well; were cleanly; rich in horses; bold, independent, and good warriors. The War-are-ree-kas lived chiefly by fishing, and were found on the banks of the rivers and lakes throughout the country. They were more corpulent, slovenly, and indolent than the Shirry-dikas, and more peaceful. The Banattees, as we have before mentioned, were the robbers of the mountains. They were a wild and contemptible race, and at enmity with every one. In summer they went about nearly naked. In winter they clothed themselves in the skins of rabbits and wolves. Being excellent mimics, they could imitate the howling of wolves, the neighing of horses, and the cries of birds, by which means they could approach travellers, rob them, and then fly to their rocky fastnesses in the mountains, where pursuit was vain.
Such were the men who now assembled in front of the camp of the fur-traders, and Cameron soon found that the news of his presence in the country had spread far and wide among the natives, bringing them to the neighbourhood of his camp in immense crowds, so that, during the next few days, their numbers increased to thousands.
Several long palavers quickly ensued between the red men and the white, and the two great chiefs who seemed to hold despotic rule over the assembled tribes were extremely favourable to the idea of universal peace which was propounded to them. In several set speeches of great length and very considerable power, these natural orators explained their willingness to enter into amicable relations with all the surrounding nations as well as with the white men.
“But,” said Pee-eye-em, the chief of the Shirry-dikas, a man above six feet high, and of immense muscular strength,—“but my tribe cannot answer for the Banattees, who are robbers, and cannot be punished, because they dwell in scattered families among the mountains. The Banattees are bad; they cannot be trusted.”
None of the Banattees were present at the council when this was said; and if they had been it would have mattered little, for they were neither fierce nor courageous, although bold enough in their own haunts to murder and rob the unwary.
The second chief did not quite agree with Pee-eye-em; he said that it was impossible for them to make peace with their natural enemies, the Peigans and the Blackfeet on the east side of the mountains. It was very desirable, he admitted, but neither of these tribes would consent to it, he felt sure.
Upon this Joe blunt rose and said, “The great chief of the War-are-ree-kas is wise, and knows that enemies cannot be reconciled unless deputies are sent to make proposals of peace.”
“The Pale-face does not know the Blackfeet,” answered the chief. “Who will go into the lands of the Blackfeet? My young men have been sent once and again, and their scalps are now fringes to the leggings of their enemies. The War-are-ree-kas do not cross the mountains but for the purpose of making war.”
“The chief speaks truth,” returned Joe, “yet there are three men round the council-fire who will go to the Blackfeet and the Peigans with messages of peace from the Snakes if they wish it.”
Joe pointed to himself, Henri, and Dick as he spoke, and added, “We three do not belong to the camp of the fur-traders; we only lodge with them for a time. The Great Chief of the white men has sent us to make peace with the Red-men, and to tell them that he desires to trade with them—to exchange hatchets, and guns, and blankets for furs.”
This declaration interested the two chiefs greatly, and after a good deal of discussion they agreed to take advantage of Joe Blunt’s offer, and appoint him as a deputy to the court of their enemies. Having arranged these matters to their satisfaction, Cameron bestowed a red flag and a blue surtout with brass buttons on each of the chiefs, and a variety of smaller articles on the other members of the council, and sent them away in a particularly amiable frame of mind.
Pee-eye-em burst the blue surtout at the shoulders and elbows in putting it on, as it was much too small for his gigantic frame, but, never having seen such an article of apparel before, he either regarded this as the natural and proper consequence of putting it on, or was totally indifferent to it, for he merely looked at the rents with a smile of satisfaction, while his squaw surreptitiously cut off the two back buttons and thrust them into her bosom.
By the time the council closed the night was far advanced, and a bright moon was shedding a flood of soft light over the picturesque and busy scene.
“I’ll go to the Injun camp,” said Joe to Walter Cameron, as the chiefs rose to depart. “The season’s far enough advanced already; it’s time to be off; and if I’m to speak for the Red-skins in the Blackfeet Council, I’d need to know what to say.”
“Please yourself, Master Blunt,” answered Cameron. “I like your company and that of your friends, and if it suited you I would be glad to take you along with us to the coast of the Pacific; but your mission among the Indians is a good one, and I’ll help it on all I can. I suppose you will go also?” he added, turning to Dick Varley, who was still seated beside the council-fire caressing Crusoe.
“Wherever Joe goes, I go,” answered Dick.
Crusoe’s tail, ears and eyes demonstrated high approval of the sentiment involved in this speech.
“And your friend Henri?”
“He goes too,” answered Joe. “It’s as well that the Red-skins should see the three o’ us before we start for the east side o’ the mountains. Ho! Henri, come here, lad.”
Henri obeyed, and in a few seconds the three friends crossed the brook to the Indian camp, and were guided to the principal lodge by Pee-eye-em. Here a great council was held, and the proposed attempt at negotiations for peace with their ancient enemies fully discussed. While they were thus engaged, and just as Pee-eye-em had, in the energy of an enthusiastic peroration burst the blue surtout almost up to the collar, a distant rushing sound was heard, which caused every man to spring to his feet, run out of the tent, and seize his weapons.
“What can it be, Joe?” whispered Dick, as they stood at the tent door leaning on their rifles, and listening intently.
“Dunno,” answered Joe shortly.
Most of the numerous fires of the camp had gone out, but the bright moon revealed the dusky forms of thousands of Indians, whom the unwonted sound had startled, moving rapidly about.
The mystery was soon explained. The Indian camp was pitched on an open plain of several miles in extent, which took a sudden bend half a mile distant, where a spur of the mountains shut out the further end of the valley from view. From beyond this point the dull rumbling sound proceeded. Suddenly there was a roar as if a mighty cataract had been let loose upon the scene. At the same moment a countless herd of wild horses came thundering round the base of the mountain and swept over the plain straight towards the Indian camp.
“A
