The Recent Hoverings Of The Blackfeet About The Camp, Their
Nightly Prowls And Daring And Successful Marauds, Had Kept Him In
A Fever And A Flutter, Like A Hawk In A Cage Who Hears His Late
Companions Swooping And Screaming In Wild Liberty Above Him.
The
attempt of Captain Bonneville to rouse the war spirit of the Nez
Perces, and prompt them to retaliation, was ardently seconded by
Kosato.
For several days he was incessantly devising schemes of
vengeance, and endeavoring to set on foot an expedition that
should carry dismay and desolation into the Blackfeet town. All
his art was exerted to touch upon those springs of human action
with which he was most familiar. He drew the listening savages
round him by his nervous eloquence; taunted them with recitals of
past wrongs and insults; drew glowing pictures of triumphs and
trophies within their reach; recounted tales of daring and
romantic enterprise, of secret marchings, covert lurkings,
midnight surprisals, sackings, burnings, plunderings, scalpings;
together with the triumphant return, and the feasting and
rejoicing of the victors. These wild tales were intermingled with
the beating of the drum, the yell, the war-whoop and the
war-dance, so inspiring to Indian valor. All, however, were lost
upon the peaceful spirits of his hearers; not a Nez Perce was to
be roused to vengeance, or stimulated to glorious war. In the
bitterness of his heart, the Blackfoot renegade repined at the
mishap which had severed him from a race of congenial spirits,
and driven him to take refuge among beings so destitute of
martial fire.
The character and conduct of this man attracted the attention of
Captain Bonneville, and he was anxious to hear the reason why he
had deserted his tribe, and why he looked back upon them with
such deadly hostility. Kosato told him his own story briefly: it
gives a picture of the deep, strong passions that work in the
bosoms of these miscalled stoics.
"You see my wife," said he, "she is good; she is beautiful - I
love her. Yet she has been the cause of all my troubles. She was
the wife of my chief. I loved her more than he did; and she knew
it. We talked together; we laughed together; we were always
seeking each other's society; but we were as innocent as
children. The chief grew jealous, and commanded her to speak with
me no more. His heart became hard toward her; his jealousy grew
more furious. He beat her without cause and without mercy; and
threatened to kill her outright if she even looked at me. Do you
want traces of his fury? Look at that scar! His rage against me
was no less persecuting. War parties of the Crows were hovering
round us; our young men had seen their trail. All hearts were
roused for action; my horses were before my lodge. Suddenly the
chief came, took them to his own pickets, and called them his
own. What could I do?
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