the Indians to
the west of the Rocky Mountains. They have a spirit of chivalry, which
prevents them taking any injurious advantage.

As I have before observed, an Indian will never fire his rifle upon an
enemy who is armed only with his lance, bow, and arrows or if he does,
and kills him, he will not take his scalp, as it would constantly recall
to his mind that he had killed a defenceless foe. Private encounters
with their enemies, the Navahoes and Arrapahoes, are conducted as
tournaments in the days of yore. Two Indians will run full speed
against each other with their well-poised lance; on their shield, with
equal skill, they will receive the blow; then, turning round, they will
salute each other as a mark of esteem from one brave foe to another.

Such incidents happen daily, but they will not be believed by the
Europeans, who have the vanity of considering themselves alone as
possessing "le sentiment du chevalresque et du beau:" besides, they are
accustomed to read so many horrible accounts of massacres committed by
the savages, that the idea of a red skin is always associated in their
mind with the picture of burning stakes and slow torture. It is a
mistake, and a sad one; would to God that our highly civilised nations
of Europe had to answer for no more cruelties than those perpetuated by
the numerous gallant tribes of western America.

I was present one day when a military party came from Fort Bent, on the
head of the Arkansa, to offer presents and make proposals of peace to
the Comanche council. The commander made a long speech, after which he
offered I don't know how many hundred gallons of whisky. One of the
ancient chiefs had not patience to hear any more, and he rose full of
indignation. His name was Auku-wonze-zee, that is to say, "he who is
superlatively old."

"Silence," he said; "speak no more, double-tongued. Oposh-ton-ehoe
(Yankee). Why comest thou, false-hearted, to pour thy deceitful words
into the ears of my young men? You tell us you come for peace, and you
offered to us poison. Silence. Oposh-ton-ehoe, let me hear thee no
more, for I am an old man; and now that I have one foot in the happy
grounds of immortality, it pains me to think that I leave my people so
near a nation of liars. An errand of peace! Does the snake offer peace
to the squirrel when he kills him with the poison of his dreaded glance?
does an Indian say to the beaver, he comes to offer peace when he sets
his traps