A Trader Named Bisonette,
One Of Henry's Friends, Was Lately Come From The Settlements, And
Intended To Go With A Party Of Men To La Bonte's Camp, Where, As Jean
Gras Assured Us, Ten Or Twelve Villages Of Indians Would Certainly
Assemble.
Bisonette desired that we would cross over and meet him
there, and promised that his men should protect our horses and
baggage while we went among the Indians.
Shaw and I stopped our
horses and held a council, and in an evil hour resolved to go.
For the rest of that day's journey our course and that of the Indians
was the same. In less than an hour we came to where the high barren
prairie terminated, sinking down abruptly in steep descent; and
standing on these heights, we saw below us a great level meadow.
Laramie Creek bounded it on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of
the declivities, and passing with its shallow and rapid current just
below us. We sat on horseback, waiting and looking on, while the
whole savage array went pouring past us, hurrying down the descent
and spreading themselves over the meadow below. In a few moments the
plain was swarming with the moving multitude, some just visible, like
specks in the distance, others still passing on, pressing down, and
fording the stream with bustle and confusion. On the edge of the
heights sat half a dozen of the elder warriors, gravely smoking and
looking down with unmoved faces on the wild and striking spectacle.
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