The old chief remained in grave deliberation for a few moments; then lighting his pipe, he drew a few puffs, and passed it to his neighbour, until it had completed the round of the whole assembly. He then rose, and addressed the council. He spoke but a short time. The speech was intended as an answer to that of the Commissioner, though it was addressed principally to his warriors. He spoke warmly of the liberality of the whites. He threw out hints as to the contents of the heavy waggons which they had brought with them; and that the less difficulty they made in agreeing to the terms of the treaty, the greater would be their share of the presents. He then dilated upon the advantage to be derived from a friendly intercourse with the whites; and wound up his whole address, with a most pathetic lamentation about the distance between their village and the buffalo hunting grounds. What this last portion of his speech had to do with the rest of the address, I could not well make out; but it appeared to be received with keen satisfaction by his audience; and when he resumed his seat he was greeted with a grunt of applause, which would have done credit to a sty of full-grown porkers.
After him, one of the warriors rose up to address the meeting. He was a lean, sinewy old man; his hair, which was unshaven, was now beginning to whiten with the frost of years, and hung in long tangled locks upon his shoulders. He rose slowly until he had attained his full height; then gathering his robe closely round his waist, he commenced his harangue. At first he spoke in a low, tremulous tone; his gestures were feeble but impressive; but at length he grew warmed with his subject, and his voice rose from its weak tones, until it sounded through the building with a startling clearness. His withered face lighted up; and his filmy eye seemed to kindle with a new lustre, as he proceeded. The whole dusky crowd listened in silence to his words; but they did not last long. The eloquent spirit, which for a few moments illumined him, passed away. Like the last, leaping flash of a dying flame, it was transient, and expired. For a moment the old warrior seemed endeavouring to recall his train of thought, but without success. Then with a melancholy shake of the head, he drew his blanket over him, and sank into his seat.
None rose after him. The pipe was again passed round; and the terms of the treaty having been assented to, by the chiefs and principal warriors, the crowd poured from the lodge, and scattered through the town.
CHAP. XXVII.
DISTRIBUTION OF PRESENTS.
On the day following the council, the packages containing the presents for the tribe were given to the chief, who prepared to divide them among the different members of his village. A large circle, composed of every man, woman, and child, had collected in the prairie. In the centre of this sat the chiefs, and five or six of the principal warriors. The packages were opened, and they commenced separating the different parcels for the purpose of distribution.
There was a great anxiety evinced by the crowd. Every eye was strained with an expression of strong hankering towards the distributors, who quietly proceeded in the business of opening bundles of knives, boxes of kettles, tin cups, packages of beads, cloths, ribands, and other articles, without paying the slightest attention to the imploring, anxious looks of the restless bystanders. When this had been completed, the chief commenced cutting up the pieces of cloth, calico, and ribands, and sending off the warriors to distribute them.
Until this moment there had been silence; but now arose a deafening clamour. The young squaws begged; the old crones scolded, screamed, and poured out torrents of abuse. The boys whooped, and the pappooses bawled. Never was there such a scene of confusion. When a warrior approached the edge of the circle, a dozen hands were reached out to seize upon the article which he held. But those who had been appointed, had been carefully selected for their coolness. For, amid all the scrambling, they maintained the most philosophic calmness, and listened to the invectives of those who were disappointed, with the most composed indifference. The distribution was managed with great impartiality; though we observed that a low word or an imploring look from some of the young girls had their weight; and more than once changed the destination of a gaudy riband, or string of richly coloured beads. A loud outcry was always raised by the neighbours on each of these occasions; and a few hard epithets were bestowed by the old viragoes, who thought they had lost by this change of intention.
During the distribution, our attention was attracted by the manœuvres of one of the many antiquated squaws who crowded in the ring. She was a diminutive little being, clothed in a dirty flannel jacket, and a tattered piece of dress resembling a petticoat. As for her years, they must have been countless. There must have been a strong flavour of bitterness about her tongue; for we observed that all the warriors seemed to shrink from collision with her. Although they evidently neglected her, still their neglect was of a more deferential nature than that exhibited toward the rest; and whenever they passed her, it was with a shuffling, apologetic air. There was no more active being in the assembly. She flew round in every direction; at one moment she was at one part of the circle, and at another moment she was in the opposite. She scolded, screamed, and begged. She writhed, with an eel-like slipperiness, through the crowd. Whenever one of the distributors passed across the circle to present some peculiarly tempting article, a terrible hustling and jostling would be observed at the point to which he appeared to direct his steps; and before he could reach it, the convulsed face and straining eyes of the little squaw would force a passage through the mass; and her shrill voice would be heard above the general clamour. She never obtained the prize; but the donor, after disappointing her, always moved off, with a hurried step; until he had placed as much space as possible between himself and her vigorous tongue. As the distribution proceeded, finding herself no better off than before it had commenced, she grew furious, and the clamour of her tongue was incessant. At last one of the distributors, an old dried up Indian, with one eye, marched up to her, and either from compassion, or for the purpose of hushing her abuse, reached out a small piece of red riband towards her. She snatched it eagerly; but after looking at it for a few seconds with an air of deep chagrin, her face began to swell like a roasting pippin; and shaking the little fragment of a riband towards him, with an air of the greatest contempt, she opened a torrent of apparently bitter invective. This raised a loud shout of laughter, at the expense of the old man. He, however, did not wait to hear it, but walked off with a cool step, until he had got beyond the reach of her fire. At length another present was given her, but without effect. Her tongue was as inveterate as ever; and to get rid of her, she was finally presented with a large tin kettle, with which she marched off to the village, to the great relief of the whole assemblage. After her departure, the business went on with a degree of good humour, which had not previously existed.
During the distribution, we observed that those of the females who were troubled with large families of children, were particularly well provided for. They were presented with those articles most suited to their domestic economy. To the young squaws, were given only trinkets and ribands, which were of small value in themselves, but possessed the strongest attractions for them. The knives and guns were bestowed upon those of the young men who were most distinguished. The chiefs however were particular to lay aside one or two of the best of each article for their own private use.