Thirdly. The Crows having just incensed and triumphed over their hereditary foes the Black–feet, they might expect reprisals from the latter; in which event, the alliance of a band commanding upwards of twenty “medicine–fire–weapons,” was not to be despised.
Having embraced this resolution, and communicated it by secret messengers to the principal braves and conjurers, the worthy sire and son summoned them to a grand council on the following morning, at which the treaty was ratified in due form; Wingenund, Paul Müller, and Ethelston representing the allied band, and each party loading the other with praises and compliments, until the oily tongue of Besha was almost weary of translating and retranslating their expressions of mutual amity and fidelity.
The four unhappy survivors of Mahéga’s band were now brought forward, their arms being securely pinioned behind them, and Besha inquired of Wingenund his wishes concerning them. It needed only a word from his lips, and they would have been stabbed, burnt, or more slowly tortured to death on the spot. The youth looked at them sternly for a moment, and Paul Müller trembled lest the vengeful instinct of his race should guide his decision; but he replied, “Wingenund will take them with him to the Lenapé camp. War–Eagle, Netis, and the Black Father shall hold a council, and what they think best it shall be done.”
Ethelston, Paul Müller, and Wingenund now prepared to bid adieu to their Crow friends, it having been agreed that White–bull, accompanied by some of his principal braves, should visit the Delaware camp on the following day to interchange presents, and confirm the alliance thus happily and unexpectedly commenced; and, as a further proof of his friendly disposition, the Crow chief permitted Bending–willow to send a girdle of delicate fawn–skin, adorned with feathers and stained quills, to the “Great Medicine of the white tent.”
Wingenund had still kept possession of the three Osage rifles, one of which was in the hands of Ethelston; and the other two he now loaded, and offered one to Paul Müller.
“Nay, my son,” said the missionary, smiling, “these hands are not skilled in the use of the firelock; neither do they desire to be acquainted with any weapon more dangerous than this oaken staff. The shedding of human blood would ill beseem a humble minister of the Gospel of Peace.”
“The words of the Black Father,” said the youth respectfully, “are full of goodness and truth; but he must not forget that the path lies over rough and dangerous places; that there are four prisoners, who may attempt to overcome or escape from us, and that we may meet enemies by the way; therefore Wingenund wished to give the Black Father a weapon to defend himself.”
“The motive, my son, was natural and blameless; nevertheless, I purpose to abstain from handling any deadly weapon, and to entrust my personal safety to Him who has so marvellously preserved us through trials, captivity, and dangers innumerable. My children,” continued the worthy man, in the English tongue, “before we depart hence to revisit our friends, let us together thank God for the great mercies shown to us; let us implore his further protection for ourselves and all dear to us; and let us humbly entreat him, in his own good time, to soften, turn, and enlighten the hearts of these benighted children of the wilderness, so that they may hereafter, with us, be brought to his heavenly kingdom.”
As he said these words, the venerable missionary dropped upon his knees, Ethelston and Wingenund kneeling beside him, while he uttered a fervent prayer, which embraced, in simple, yet eloquent language, all the objects above alluded to.
Great was the surprise of the Crows at the attitude of the three, and their sudden abstraction from all that was passing around; but Besha having whispered to the chief that they were talking to the Great Spirit, he made a signal that profound silence should be observed, fearful that if they were disturbed, or anyways annoyed, they would invoke evil upon himself and his tribe.