So saying, he made a signal, and forthwith a beautiful younghorse, of a brown color, was led, prancing and snorting, to theplace. Captain Bonneville was suitably affected by this mark offriendship; but his experience in what is proverbially called"Indian giving," made him aware that a parting pledge wasnecessary on his own part, to prove that his friendship wasreciprocated. He accordingly placed a handsome rifle in the handsof the venerable chief, whose benevolent heart was evidentlytouched and gratified by this outward and visible sign of amity.
Having now, as he thought, balanced this little account offriendship, the captain was about to shift his saddle to thisnoble gift-horse when the affectionate patriarch plucked him bythe sleeve, and introduced to him a whimpering, whining,leathern-skinned old squaw, that might have passed for anEgyptian mummy, without drying. "This," said he, "is my wife; sheis a good wife--I love her very much.--She loves the horse--sheloves him a great deal--she will cry very much at losing him.--Ido not know how I shall comfort her--and that makes my heart verysore."
What could the worthy captain do, to console the tender-heartedold squaw, and, peradventure, to save the venerable patriarchfrom a curtain lecture? He bethought himself of a pair of ear-bobs: it was true, the patriarch'sbetter-half was of an age and
appearance that seemed to put personal vanity out of thequestion, but when is personal vanity extinct? The moment heproduced the glittering earbobs, the whimpering and whining ofthe sempiternal beldame was at an end. She eagerly placed theprecious baubles in her ears, and, though as ugly as the Witch ofEndor, went off with a sideling gait and coquettish air, asthough she had been a perfect Semiramis.
The captain had now saddled his newly acquired steed, and hisfoot was in the stirrup, when the affectionate patriarch againstepped forward, and presented to him a young Pierced-nose, whohad a peculiarly sulky look. "This," said the venerable chief,"is my son: he is very good; a great horseman--he always tookcare of this very fine horse--he brought him up from a colt, andmade him what he is.--He is very fond of this fine horse--he loveshim like a brother-- his heart will be very heavy when this finehorse leaves the camp."
What could the captain do, to reward the youthful hope of thisvenerable pair, and comfort him for the loss of his foster-brother, the horse? He bethought him ofa hatchet, which might be
spared from his slender stores. No sooner did he place theimplement into the hands of the young hopeful, than hiscountenance brightened up, and he went off rejoicing in hishatchet, to the full as much as did his respectable mother in herear-bobs.
The captain was now in the saddle, and about to start, when theaffectionate old patriarch stepped forward, for the third time,and, while he laid one hand gently on the mane of the horse, heldup the rifle in the other. "This rifle," said he, "shall be mygreat medicine. I will hug it to my heart--I will always love it,for the sake of my good friend, the bald-headed chief.--But arifle, by itself, is dumb--I cannot make it speak. If I had alittle powder and ball, I would take it out with me, and wouldnow and then shoot a deer; and when I brought the meat home to myhungry family, I would say--This was killed by the rifle of myfriend, the bald-headed chief, to whom I gave that very finehorse."
There was no resisting this appeal; the captain, forthwith,furnished the coveted supply of powder and ball; but at the sametime, put spurs to his very fine gift-horse, and the first trialof his speed was to get out of all further manifestation offriendship, on the part of the affectionate old patriarch and hisinsinuating family. [Return to Contents].
