A
tumult arose. In the confusion, Colonel O'Fallan snapped a pistol
in the face of a brave, and knocked him down with the butt end.
The Crows were all in a fury. A chance-medley fight was on the
point of taking place, when Rose, his natural sympathies as a
white man suddenly recurring, broke the stock of his fusee over
the head of a Crow warrior, and laid so vigorously about him with
the barrel, that he soon put the whole throng to flight. Luckily,
as no lives had been lost, this sturdy rib roasting calmed the
fury of the Crows, and the tumult ended without serious
consequences.
What was the ultimate fate of this vagabond hero is not
distinctly known. Some report him to have fallen a victim to
disease, brought on by his licentious life; others assert that he
was murdered in a feud among the Crows. After all, his residence
among these savages, and the influence he acquired over them,
had, for a time, some beneficial effects. He is said, not merely
to have rendered them more formidable to the Blackfeet, but to
have opened their eyes to the policy of cultivating the
friendship of the white men.
After Rose's death, his policy continued to be cultivated, with
indifferent success, by Arapooish, the chief already mentioned,
who had been his great friend, and whose character he had
contributed to develope. This sagacious chief endeavored, on
every occasion, to restrain the predatory propensities of his
tribe when directed against the white men. "If we keep friends
with them," said he, "we have nothing to fear from the Blackfeet,
and can rule the mountains." Arapooish pretended to be a great
"medicine man", a character among the Indians which is a compound
of priest, doctor, prophet, and conjurer. He carried about with
him a tame eagle, as his "medicine" or familiar. With the white
men, he acknowledged that this was all charlatanism, but said it
was necessary, to give him weight and influence among his people.
Mr. Robert Campbell, from whom we have most of these facts, in
the course of one of his trapping expeditions, was quartered in
the village of Arapooish, and a guest in the lodge of the
chieftain. He had collected a large quantity of furs, and,
fearful of being plundered, deposited but a part in the lodge of
the chief; the rest he buried in a cache. One night, Arapooish
came into the lodge with a cloudy brow, and seated himself for a
time without saying a word. At length, turning to Campbell, "You
have more furs with you," said he, "than you have brought into my
lodge?"
"I have," replied Campbell.
"Where are they?"
Campbell knew the uselessness of any prevarication with an
Indian; and the importance of complete frankness. He described
the exact place where he had concealed his peltries.
" 'Tis well," replied Arapooish; "you speak straight. It is just
as you say. But your cache has been robbed. Go and see how many
skins have been taken from it."
Campbell examined the cache, and estimated his loss to be about
one hundred and fifty beaver skins.
Arapooish now summoned a meeting of the village. He bitterly
reproached his people for robbing a stranger who had confided to
their honor; and commanded that whoever had taken the skins,
should bring them back: declaring that, as Campbell was his guest
and inmate of his lodge, he would not eat nor drink until every
skin was restored to him.
The meeting broke up, and every one dispersed. Arapooish now
charged Campbell to give neither reward nor thanks to any one who
should bring in the beaver skins, but to keep count as they were
delivered.
In a little while, the skins began to make their appearance, a
few at a time; they were laid down in the lodge, and those who
brought them departed without saying a word. The day passed away.
Arapooish sat in one corner of his lodge, wrapped up in his robe,
scarcely moving a muscle of his countenance. When night arrived,
he demanded if all the skins had been brought in. Above a hundred
had been given up, and Campbell expressed himself contented. Not
so the Crow chieftain. He fasted all that night, nor tasted a
drop of water. In the morning, some more skins were brought in,
and continued to come, one and two at a time, throughout the day,
until but a few were wanting to make the number complete.
Campbell was now anxious to put an end to this fasting of the old
chief, and again declared that he was perfectly satisfied.
Arapooish demanded what number of skins were yet wanting. On
being told, he whispered to some of his people, who disappeared.
After a time the number were brought in, though it was evident
they were not any of the skins that had been stolen, but others
gleaned in the village.
"Is all right now?" demanded Arapooish.
"All is right," replied Campbell.
"Good! Now bring me meat and drink!"
When they were alone together, Arapooish had a conversation with
his guest.
"When you come another time among the Crows," said he, "don't
hide your goods: trust to them and they will not wrong you. Put
your goods in the lodge of a chief, and they are sacred; hide
them in a cache, and any one who finds will steal them. My people
have now given up your goods for my sake; but there are some
foolish young men in the village, who may be disposed to be
troublesome. Don't linger, therefore, but pack your horses and be
off."
Campbell took his advice, and made his way safely out of the Crow
country. He has ever since maintained that the Crows are not so
black as they are painted. "Trust to their honor," says he, "and
you are safe:
