At the time of which I write, his power over the Blackfeet and their confederates was very great. His possessions too, in the light of Indian wealth, were very large. Fully four hundred horses ran in his bands. His weapons for war and for the chase included almost every specimen of modern fire-arms. His generosity was said to be in keeping with his courage; he gave freely away his share of the booty that fell to his lot. Altogether Penoquam was a chief whose reputation for valour, capacity, and wealth, might favourably compare with that of any Indian leader from Texas to the great Sub-Arctic Forest.
Such was the man in whose presence we now found ourselves. A buffalo robe was spread for us in a break of the circle directly facing the spot where Penoquam sat, and the discourse began at once.
Interrogated as to place from whence we had come, destination, and object of our journey, the Sioux replied in answers as short as they could well be made, consistently with replying to the main questions put to him. He was coming from a camp of the Blood Indians near the Cypress hills. He was returning to the banks of the Red Deer river, and the object of his journey had been to get horses. He had purchased some of his present band from the chief.
When Red Cloud had finished replying to the questions which had been put to him in the Sioux language, some conversation was carried on in Blackfeet among the men who sat around. Presently one of them spoke:—
“Our young men who have lately been to their cousins the Sircies, have spoken about a wandering Sioux having built himself a hut at the forks of the Red Deer and Pascopee rivers, and of war that was carried on between him and their tribe. Are you not that Sioux against whom our cousins have had war?”
To which Red Cloud replied,—
“I built a hut at the spot you speak of, and dwelt in it during the past winter; but I made no war on the Sircies or with any other tribe.”
The others consulted together for a few minutes, and then the chief spoke,—
“Our cousins the Sircies are only two camps’ distance behind us on this trail,” he said; “they can be here by to-morrow’s sunset. If they have no quarrel with you, I shall be your friend; but my cousins’ quarrel must be mine also. You can stay in my lodge until our cousins have arrived, and then you shall be free to go if your hands are clean of their blood. As for the white man who is your companion, we have no quarrel with him; he is at liberty to depart or to stay with you, as he pleases.”
In fact the Sioux was a prisoner. His horses and arms were taken away, and he found himself treated, it is true, with no indignity of durance, but bereft of any means of flight or of fight, and constrained to await the arrival of those very foes whose unprovoked attack on him a few days before was now to be brought as evidence against him of enmity to the Blackfeet confederated tribes.