nemy, prevents his acknowledging ignorance, by
betraying surprise.[41] We have been in company with Indians from the
Far West, while they saw a railroad for the first time. When they
thought themselves unnoticed, they were as curious about the singular
machinery of the locomotive, and as much excited by the decorations and
appointments of the cars, as the most ignorant white man. But the moment
they discovered that their movements were observed, they resumed their
dignified composure; and, if you had judged of the Indian country by
their subsequent deportment, you might have believed that the vast
prairies of the Missouri were everywhere intersected by railroads--that
the Indian had, in fact, never known any other mode of travelling. "On
first seeing a steamboat, however," says Flint, who well understands his
character, "he never represses his customary '_Ugh_!'"

Generally, among white men, he who is fondest of inflicting pain, is
least able to endure it. But the Indian reverses almost all the
principles, which apply to civilized life; and, accordingly, we find
that, with all his so-called fortitude, he is the most intensely cruel
of all living men. Before possession of the continent was taken by
Europeans, war was more constantly the occupation of his life, than it
has been since; but even now his only object in taking his enemies
alive, is to subject them to the most inhuman tortures.[42] And in these
brutal orgies, the women are most active, even taking the lead, in
applying the cord and the brand.[43] Nor is this cruelty confined to
enemies, as the practice of leaving the aged and infirm to die of
starvation sufficiently proves.

And his treachery is equal to his cruelty. No treaty can bind him longer
than superior force compels him to observe it. The discovery that his
enemy is unprepared for an attack, is sufficient reason to him for
making it; his only object in concluding peace, is to secure an
advantage in war; and before the prospect of a bloody inroad, his faith
melts away, like snow before the sun. The claims of gratitude he seldom
acknowledges; he cherishes the memory of a benefit, only until he finds
an opportunity of repaying it with an injury; and forbearance to avenge
the latter, only encourages its repetition.[44] The numerous pretty
stories published of Indian gratitude, are either exceptional cases, or
unmixed romances.

There have been some tribes of Indians in a measure reclaimed from their
s