That Morning Bordeaux
Fastened Upon Him, Made Him Presents And Told Him That If He Went To
War He Would
Destroy his horses and kill no buffalo to trade with the
white men; in short, that he was a fool
To think of such a thing, and
had better make up his mind to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his
pipe, like a wise man. The Whirlwind's purpose was evidently shaken;
he had become tired, like a child, of his favorite plan. Bordeaux
exultingly predicted that he would not go to war. My philanthropy at
that time was no match for my curiosity, and I was vexed at the
possibility that after all I might lose the rare opportunity of
seeing the formidable ceremonies of war. The Whirlwind, however, had
merely thrown the firebrand; the conflagration was become general.
All the western bands of the Dakota were bent on war; and as I heard
from McCluskey, six large villages already gathered on a little
stream, forty miles distant, were daily calling to the Great Spirit
to aid them in their enterprise. McCluskey had just left and
represented them as on their way to La Bonte's Camp, which they would
reach in a week, UNLESS THEY SHOULD LEARN THAT THERE WERE NO BUFFALO
THERE. I did not like this condition, for buffalo this season were
rare in the neighborhood. There were also the two Minnicongew
villages that I mentioned before; but about noon, an Indian came from
Richard's Fort with the news that they were quarreling, breaking up,
and dispersing.
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