That braggart horde was encamped but about three miles off, and were
just then in high glee and festivity, and more swaggering than ever,
celebrating a prodigious victory. It appeared that a party of their
braves being out on a hunting excursion, discovered a band of Blackfeet
moving, as they thought, to surprise their hunting camp. The Bannacks
immediately posted themselves on each side of a dark ravine, through
which the enemy must pass, and, just as they were entangled in the midst
of it, attacked them with great fury. The Blackfeet, struck with sudden
panic, threw off their buffalo robes and fled, leaving one of their
warriors dead on the spot. The victors eagerly gathered up the spoils;
but their greatest prize was the scalp of the Blackfoot brave. This they
bore off in triumph to their village, where it had ever since been an
object of the greatest exultation and rejoicing. It had been elevated
upon a pole in the centre of the village, where the warriors had
celebrated the scalp dance round it, with war feasts, war songs, and
warlike harangues. It had then been given up to the women and boys; who
had paraded it up and down the village with shouts and chants and antic
dances; occasionally saluting it with all kinds of taunts, invectives,
and revilings.
The Blackfeet, in this affair, do not appear to have acted up to the
character which has rendered them objects of such terror. Indeed,
their conduct in war, to the inexperienced observer, is full of
inconsistencies; at one time they are headlong in courage, and heedless
of danger; at another time cautious almost to cowardice.
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