They gathered
round the grave and mourned; the warriors were silent in their grief;
but the women and children bewailed their loss with loud lamentations.
"For three days," said the old man, "we performed the solemn dances for
the dead, and prayed the Great Spirit that our brother might be happy
in the land of brave warriors and hunters. Then we killed at his grave
fifteen of our best and strongest horses, to serve him when he should
arrive at the happy hunting grounds; and having done all this, we
returned sorrowfully to our homes."
While the chief was still talking, an Indian scout came galloping up,
and, presenting him with a powder-horn, wheeled round, and was speedily
out of sight. The eyes of the old chief now brightened; and all his
self-importance returned. His petty mystery was about to explode.
Turning to Captain Bonneville, he pointed to a hill hard by, and
informed him, that behind it was a village governed by a little chief,
whom he had notified of the approach of the bald-headed chief, and a
party of the Big Hearts of the East, and that he was prepared to receive
them in becoming style. As, among other ceremonials, he intended to
salute them with a discharge of firearms, he had sent the horn of
gunpowder that they might return the salute in a manner correspondent to
his dignity.
They now proceeded on until they doubled the point of the hill, when the
whole population of the village broke upon their view, drawn out in the
most imposing style, and arrayed in all their finery.
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