“During my absence, I have seen the Apaches and the Comanches. They are both great nations. Let us send some wise men to invite them to return to their fathers; let our chiefs offer them wood, land, and water. I have said.”
As long as I spoke, the deepest silence reigned over the whole assembly; but as soon as I sat down, and began smoking, there was a general movement, which showed me that I had made an impression. The old great chief rose, however, and the murmurs were hushed. He spoke:—
“Owato Wanisha has spoken. I have heard. It was a strange vision, a beautiful dream. My heart came young again, my body lighter, and my eyes more keen. Yet I cannot see the future; I must fast and pray, I must ask the great Master of Life to lend me his wisdom.
“I know the Comanches, I know the Apaches, and the Arrapahoes. They are our children; I know it. The Comanches have left us a long, long time, but the Apaches and Arrapahoes have not yet forgotten the hunting-grounds where their fathers were born. When I was but a young hunter, they would come every snow to the lodge of our Manitou, to offer their presents. It was long before any Pale-face had passed the mountains. Since that the leaves of the oaks have grown and died eighty times. It is a long while for a man, but for a nation it is but as yesterday.
“They are our children,—it would be good to have them with us; they would share our hunts; we would divide our wealth with them. Then we would be strong. Owato Wanisha has spoken well; he hath learned many mysteries with the Macota Conaya (black robes, priests); he is wise. Yet, as I have said, the red-skin chiefs must ask wisdom from the Great Master. He will let us know what is good and what is bad. At the next moon we will return to the council. I have said.”
All the chiefs departed, to prepare for their fasting and ceremonies, while Gabriel, Roche, my old servant, and myself; concerted our measures so as to insure the success of my enterprise. My servant I despatched to Monterey, Gabriel to the nearest village of the Apaches, and as it was proper, according to Indian ideas, that I should be out of the way during the ceremonies, so as not to influence any chief; I retired with Roche to the boat-house, to pass the time until the new moon.
Upon the day agreed upon, we were all once more assembled at the council-ground on the shores of the Buona Ventura. The chiefs and elders of the tribe had assumed a solemn demeanour and even the men of dark deeds (the Medecins) and the keepers of the sacred lodges had made their appearance, in their professional dresses, so as to impress upon the beholders the importance of the present transaction. One of the sacred lodge first rose, and making a signal with his hand, prepared to speak:—
“Shoshones,” said he, “now has come the time in which our nation must either rise above all others, as the eagle of the mountains rises above the small birds, or sink down and disappear from the surface of the earth. Had we been left such as we were before the Pale-faces crossed the mountains, we would have needed no other help but a Shoshone heart and our keen arrows to crush our enemies; but the Pale-faces have double hearts, as well as a double tongue; they are friends or enemies as their thirst for wealth guides them. They trade with the Shoshones, but they also trade with the Crows and the Umbiquas. The young chief, Owato Wanisha, hath proposed a new path to our tribe; he is young, but he has received his wisdom from the Black-gowns, who,—of all men, are the most wise. I have heard, as our elders and ancient chiefs have also heard, the means by which he thinks we can succeed; we have fasted, we have prayed to the Master of Life to show unto us the path which we must follow. Shoshones, we live in a strange time! Our great Manitou bids us Red-skins obey the Pale-face, and follow him to conquer or die. I have said! The chief of many winters will now address his warriors and friends!”
A murmur ran through the whole assembly, who seemed evidently much moved by this political speech from one whom they were accustomed to look upon with dread, as the interpreter of the will of Heaven. The old chief, who had already spoken in the former council, now rose and spoke with a tremulous, yet distinct voice.
“I have fasted, I have prayed, I have dreamed. Old men, who have lived almost all their life, have a keener perception to read the wishes of the Master of Life concerning the future. I am a chief, and have been a chief during sixty changes of the season. I am proud of my station, and as I have struck deepest in the heart of our enemies, I am jealous of that power which is mine, and would yield it to no one, if the great Manitou did not order it. When this sun will have disappeared behind the salt-water, I shall no longer be a chief! Owato Wanisha will guide our warriors, he will preside in council, for two gods are with him—the Manitou of the Pale-faces and the Manitou of the Red-skins.