“Chiefs and men of the great Blackfeet nation. It is true that I fought against the Sircies, but I fought only in self-defence. Who is there among you who will not push aside a falling tree, or hold his shield against a hostile arrow? I am known to you all. My hand has never been raised against a red man’s life, save to defend my own; but if this Sircie thinks I owe him blood for blood, I am free to offer him the trial of my life against his own. Here, on horseback or on foot, I am ready to meet him in the combat.”
A murmur of approval ran round the dusky circle. The Sircie was for the moment abashed; this was the last turn he could have wished the affair to take. The Sioux, he was well aware, was more than a match for him at any weapon; nevertheless he could not openly decline the proferred combat. He would pretend to accept the battle wager. When he announced his readiness to fight, his followers at once demurred.
It was not combat they wanted, they said, but the death of their enemy. The Sioux had already shed the blood of their brethren; why should he be given an opportunity of shedding more? His own life should now be the penalty.
It was clear that a considerable portion of the Blackfeet shared this view. Nor was it to be wondered at; their brotherhood with the Sircie was stronger than their cousinship with the Sioux. But as I watched the faces around, and took note of each varying expression, I thought I could see in the face of the chief Penoquam indications of other feelings towards my friend. It seemed to me that he wished if possible to stand between the Sircies and their prey.
The face of the red man is slow to betray his thoughts, but the eye of true friendship is quick to read sign of favour or affection towards a friend, when the balance of fate hangs suspended between his life and his death.
I was right in my surmise. Penoquam wished well to the Sioux. He had heard through his spies the true story of the under-current which the trader had set to work for the destruction of Red Cloud, and he was determined if possible to save him; but neither his power over his own people, nor his influence with other tribes, great though they undoubtedly were, could enable him openly to avow his intention. He must dissemble his real motives, and pretend acquiescence in the demands of the Sircies. His voice was now heard above the murmurs of the chiefs and braves.
“It is right,” he said “that our brothers the Sircies should ask the blood penalty, but it is also right that our cousin should be given the chances of the custom of our people. The Blackfeet are strong in battle, they do not fear any tribe on the prairie, or in the thick wood; but as they are brave, so are they just. This Sioux has offered fight; our brother is ready to meet him in the combat; but if the Sioux should gain the battle, the reckoning for the blood already shed would still be due. No; we will not grant the combat to the Sioux, nor shall we give to the Sircies the life of our cousin. Seven days from to-day we will say what shall be done with the Sioux; until that time he is our prisoner.”
The council now broke up, and I was soon alone with Red Cloud in our lodge. It was after nightfall that a messenger came to say Penoquam desired our presence in his tent.
It was only a few yards distant.
We found the chief alone, seated before a small fire, smoking. He motioned us to sit by him, and when we had all smoked for a while in silence, he spoke. He had only a few words to say, but they meant a great deal to us.