ye see, the
boys jist rode in among the lodges afore daylight, and they killed every
thing that was able to come out of the tents, for, you see, the redskins
had the small-pox bad, they had, and a heap of them couldn't come out
nohow; so the boys jist turned over the lodges and fixed them as they lay
on the ground. Thar was up to 170 of them Pagans wiped out that mornin',
and thar was only one of the boys sent under by a redskin firing out at
him from inside a lodge. I say, mister, that Baker's a bell-ox among
sodgers, you bet."

One month after this slaughter on the Sun River a band of Peagins were
met on the Bow River by a French missionary priest, the only missionary
whose daring spirit has carried him into the country of these redoubled
tribes. They told him of the cruel loss their tribe had suffered at the
hands of the "Long-knives;" but they spoke of it as the fortune of war,
as a thing to be deplored, but to be also revenged: it was after the
manner of their own war, and it did not strike them as brutal or
cowardly; for, alas! they knew no better. But what shall be said of these
heroes--the outscourings of Europe--who, under the congenial guidance of
that "bell-ox" soldier Jim Baker, "wiped out them Pagan redskins"? This
meeting of the missionary with the Indians was in: its way singular. The
priest, thinking that the loss of so many lives would teach the tribe how
useless must be a war carried on against-the Americans, and how its end
must inevitably be the complete destruction of the Indians, asked the
chief to assemble his band to listen to his counsel and advice. They met
together in the council-tent, and then the priest began. He told them
that "their recent loss was only the beginning of their destruction, that
the Long knives had countless braves, guns and rifles beyond number,
fleet steeds, and huge war-canoes, and that it was useless for the poor
wild man to attempt to stop their progress through the great Western
solitudes." He asked them "why were their faces black and their hearts
heavy? was it not for their relatives and friends so lately killed, and
would it not be better to make peace while yet they could do it, and thus
save the lives of their remaining friends?"

While thus he spoke there reigned a deep silence through the council-tent,
each one looked fixedly at the ground before him; but when the
address was over the chief rose quietly, and, casting around a look full
of dignity, he asked, "M