"My brothers are welcome," he said; "their return to the tribe is a festival; they are intrepid warriors; we are happy at hearing the way in which they have performed the duties entrusted to them." Then he turned to the white men, and, after bowing to them, continued,—"The Kenhas are poor, but strangers are always well received by them: the Palefaces are our guests, all we possess belongs to them."
The Count and his companions thanked the chief, who so gracefully did the honours of his tribe; then the two parties joined, and galloped toward the village, which was built some five hundred paces from the spot where they were, and at the entrance of which a multitude of women and children could be seen assembled.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
THE RECEPTION.
Like all the centres of Indian population near the American clearings, the Kenha village was more like a fort than an open town. As we said before, the Kenhas had only a short time previously established themselves there, by the advice of Natah Otann. The spot was magnificently selected, and owing to the precautions taken, the hill was completely protected from a sudden attack. The wigwams were built without any order, on both sides a stream, and the fortifications consisted of a sort of intrenchment formed of dead trees. These fortifications formed an inclosure, having several angles, and the gorge or open part rested on the spot where the stream fell into the Missouri. A parapet of tree stems and piled up branches, built up on the edge of a deep ditch, completed a very respectable defensive system, which few would have expected to find in the heart of the prairies.
In the centre of the village, a wide, vacant spot served as the meeting place for the chiefs. In the centre there was a wigwam of wood, in the shape of a sugar loaf. On either side of the building, maize, wheat, and other cereals kept for winter consumption were drying. A little in advance of the village were two block houses, formed of arrow-shaped intrenchments, covered with wickerwork, provided with loopholes, and surrounded by an enclosure of palisades. They were intended for the defence of the village, with which they communicated by a covered way, and to command the river and the plain. To leeward of these block houses, and about a mile to the east, might be seen a number of Machotlé, or scaffoldings, on which the Blood Indians lay their dead. At regular distances on the road leading to the village, long poles were planted in the ground, from which hung skins, scalps, and other objects offered by the Indians to the Master of Life and the first man.
The Indians made their entrance into the village amid the cheers of the women and children, the barking of dogs, and the deafening clamour of drums, shells, chichikouès, and war whistles. On reaching the square, at a signal from Natah Otann, the band halted, and the noise ceased. An immense fire had been prepared, before which stood an aged chief, still robust and upright. A shade of melancholy was spread over his face. He was in mourning, as was easily to be seen by the ragged clothes that covered him, and his hair cut short and mingled with clay. He held in his hand a Dacotah pipe, the stem of which was long and adorned with yellow glistening beads. This man was Cloven Foot, the first and most renowned sachem of the Kenhas. So soon as the band had halted, he advanced two paces, and with a majestic gesture invited the chiefs to dismount.
"My sons are at home," he said, "let them take their seats on the buffalo robes around the council fire."
Each obeyed silently, and sat down, after bowing respectfully to the sachem. Cloven Foot then allowed each to take a few puffs from his pipe, still holding it in his hand. When it was returned to him, he emptied the burning ash into the fire, and turning with a kind of smile to the strangers, said:—