As they journeyed on, they came to where two or three Indians were
bathing in a small stream. The good old chief immediately came to a
halt, and had a long conversation with them, in the course of which he
repeated to them the whole history which Captain Bonneville had related
to him. In fact, he seems to have been a very sociable, communicative
old man; by no means afflicted with that taciturnity generally charged
upon the Indians. On the contrary, he was fond of long talks and long
smokings, and evidently was proud of his new friend, the bald-headed
chief, and took a pleasure in sounding his praises, and setting forth
the power and glory of the Big Hearts of the East.
Having disburdened himself of everything he had to relate to his bathing
friends, he left them to their aquatic disports, and proceeded onward
with the captain and his companions. As they approached the Way-lee-way,
however, the communicative old chief met with another and a very
different occasion to exert his colloquial powers. On the banks of the
river stood an isolated mound covered with grass. He pointed to it with
some emotion. "The big heart and the strong arm," said he, "lie buried
beneath that sod."
It was, in fact, the grave of one of his friends; a chosen warrior of
the tribe; who had been slain on this spot when in pursuit of a war
party of Shoshokoes, who had stolen the horses of the village. The enemy
bore off his scalp as a trophy; but his friends found his body in
this lonely place, and committed it to the earth with ceremonials
characteristic of their pious and reverential feelings.
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