"Good," Natah Otann said, "we will have the horses smoked, so as to set out immediately after."
Red Wolf gave a shrill whistle. At this signal some twenty horsemen galloped into the square, and went up to the second fire, round which an equal number of warriors, naked to the waist, were crouching and smoking silently. These men were warriors of the tribe who were dismounted, either by accident or in action; the horsemen, at this moment prancing round them, were their friends, and came up to make each a present of a horse prior to the departure of the expedition. While cantering round, the horsemen drew gradually nearer to the smokers, who did not appear to notice them. Each horseman chose out the man to whom he intended to give a horse, and a shower of lashes fell on the naked shoulders of these stoical warriors. At each blow they struck, the warrior shouted, each calling his friend by name.
"So and so, you are a beggar and wretched man. You desire my horse, I give it to you; but you will bear on your shoulders the bloody marks of my whip."
This performance lasted about a quarter of an hour, during which the sufferers, although the blood ran down their backs, did not utter a cry or a groan, but remained calm and motionless, as if they had been metamorphosed into bronze statues. At length the Red Wolf gave a second whistle, and the horsemen disappeared as rapidly as they came. The patients then rose as if nothing had happened to them, and went with radiant forehead and firm step, each to take possession of a magnificent steed, held by the ex-scourgers, now become their friends once more. This is what the Blackfeet call smoking horses.
When the tumult occasioned by this semi-serious episode was appeased, an hachesto, or public crier, mounted the roof of the council lodge. All the population of the village was drawn up silently on the square.
"The hour has struck! The hour has struck! The hour has struck!" the hachesto cried. "Warriors, to your lances and guns! The horses are neighing with impatience! Your chiefs are awaiting you, and your enemies sleep. To arms! To arms! To arms!"
"To arms!" all the warriors shouted simultaneously.
Natah Otann, followed by his warriors, mounted like himself on impetuous steeds, then appeared in the square, and uttered, in a terrible voice, the war yell of the Blackfeet. At this cry every man rushed on his weapons, mounted, and ranged under the respective chiefs, who, within scarce ten minutes, found themselves at the head of five hundred warriors, perfectly armed and equipped.
Natah Otann cast a triumphant glance around him; his eye fell immediately on the two prisoners, who had remained quietly seated, talking together, and apparently indifferent to all that happened. At the sight of them the Chiefs thick eyebrows were contracted, he leant over to the White Buffalo, who rode by his side, and muttered a few words in his ear. The old man gave a sign of assent, and walked towards the prisoners, while Natah Otann, taking the head of the war party, gave the signal for departure, and went off, only leaving ten warriors on the square to aid White Buffalo, if required.
"Gentlemen," the latter said, sharply, but courteously; "be good enough to mount and follow me, if you please."