The contest, for
a time, was hot and bloody; at length, as is customary with these
two tribes, they paused, and held a long parley, or rather a war
of words.
"What need," said the Blackfoot chief, tauntingly, "have the Nez
Perces to leave their homes, and sally forth on war parties, when
they have danger enough at their own doors? If you want fighting,
return to your villages; you will have plenty of it there. The
Blackfeet warriors have hitherto made war upon you as children.
They are now coming as men. A great force is at hand; they are on
their way to your towns, and are determined to rub out the very
name of the Nez Perces from the mountains. Return, I say, to your
towns, and fight there, if you wish to live any longer as a
people."
Kosato took him at his word; for he knew the character of his
native tribe. Hastening back with his band to the Nez Perces
village, he told all that he had seen and heard, and urged the
most prompt and strenuous measures for defence. The Nez Perces,
however, heard him with their accustomed phlegm; the threat of
the Blackfeet had been often made, and as often had proved a mere
bravado; such they pronounced it to be at present, and, of
course, took no precautions.
They were soon convinced that it was no empty menace. In a few
days a band of three hundred Blackfeet warriors appeared upon the
hills. All now was consternation in the village. The force of
the Nez Perces was too small to cope with the enemy in open
fight; many of the young men having gone to their relatives on
the Columbia to procure horses. The sages met in hurried council.
What was to be done to ward off a blow which threatened
annihilation? In this moment of imminent peril, a Pierced-nose
chief, named Blue John by the whites, offered to approach
secretly with a small, but chosen band, through a defile which
led to the encampment of the enemy, and, by a sudden onset, to
drive off the horses. Should this blow be successful, the spirit
and strength of the invaders would be broken, and the Nez Perces,
having horses, would be more than a match for them. Should it
fail, the village would not be worse off than at present, when
destruction appeared inevitable.
Twenty-nine of the choicest warriors instantly volunteered to
follow Blue John in this hazardous enterprise. They prepared for
it with the solemnity and devotion peculiar to the tribe. Blue
John consulted his medicine, or talismanic charm, such as every
chief keeps in his lodge as a supernatural protection. The oracle
assured him that his enterprise would be completely successful,
provided no rain should fall before he had passed through the
defile; but should it rain, his band would be utterly cut off.
The day was clear and bright; and Blue John anticipated that the
skies would be propitious. He departed in high spirits with his
forlorn hope; and never did band of braves make a more gallant
display-horsemen and horses being decorated and equipped in the
fiercest and most glaring style - glittering with arms and
ornaments, and fluttering with feathers.
The weather continued serene until they reached the defile; but
just as they were entering it a black cloud rose over the
mountain crest, and there was a sudden shower. The warriors
turned to their leader, as if to read his opinion of this unlucky
omen; but the countenance of Blue John remained unchanged, and
they continued to press forward. It was their hope to make their
way undiscovered to the very vicinity of the Blackfoot camp; but
they had not proceeded far in the defile, when they met a
scouting party of the enemy. They attacked and drove them among
the hills, and were pursuing them with great eagerness when they
heard shouts and yells behind them, and beheld the main body of
the Blackfeet advancing.
The second chief wavered a little at the sight and proposed an
instant retreat. "We came to fight!" replied Blue John, sternly.
Then giving his war-whoop, he sprang forward to the conflict.
His braves followed him. They made a headlong charge upon the
enemy; not with the hope of victory, but the determination to
sell their lives dearly. A frightful carnage, rather than a
regular battle, succeeded. The forlorn band laid heaps of their
enemies dead at their feet, but were overwhelmed with numbers and
pressed into a gorge of the mountain; where they continued to
fight until they were cut to pieces. One only, of the thirty,
survived. He sprang on the horse of a Blackfoot warrior whom he
had slain, and escaping at full speed, brought home the baleful
tidings to his village.
Who can paint the horror and desolation of the inhabitants? The
flower of their warriors laid low, and a ferocious enemy at their
doors. The air was rent by the shrieks and lamentations of the
women, who, casting off their ornaments and tearing their hair,
wandered about, frantically bewailing the dead and predicting
destruction to the living. The remaining warriors armed
themselves for obstinate defence; but showed by their gloomy
looks and sullen silence that they considered defence hopeless.
To their surprise the Blackfeet refrained from pursuing their
advantage; perhaps satisfied with the blood already shed, or
disheartened by the loss they had themselves sustained. At any
rate, they disappeared from the hills, and it was soon
ascertained that they had returned to the Horse Prairie.
The unfortunate Nez Perces now began once more to breathe. A few
of their warriors, taking pack-horses, repaired to the defile to
bring away the bodies of their slaughtered brethren.
