question yet remained to be answered: "Will he go to the war, in order
that we, with so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat
perilous rendezvous at La Bonte's Camp?"

Still this remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision perplexed their
councils. Indians cannot act in large bodies. Though their object be of
the highest importance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series of
connected efforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh all felt this to
their cost. The Ogallalla once had a war chief who could control
them; but he was dead, and now they were left to the sway of their own
unsteady impulses.

This Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a prominent place in
the rest of the narrative, and perhaps it may not be amiss to glance for
an instant at the savage people of which they form a part. The Dakota
(I prefer this national designation to the unmeaning French name, Sioux)
range over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter's to the Rocky
Mountains themselves. They are divided into several independent bands,
united under no central government, and acknowledge no common head.
The same language, usages, and superstitions form the sole bond between
them. They do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east fight
the Ojibwas on the Upper Lakes; those of the west make incessant war
upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky Mountains. As the whole people is
divided into bands, so each band is divided into villages. Each village
has a chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his personal
qualities may command respect and fear. Sometimes he is a mere nominal
chief; sometimes his authority is little short of absolute, and his fame
and influence reach even beyond his own village; so that the whole band
to which he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head. This was,
a few years since, the case with the Ogallalla. Courage, address, and
enterprise may raise any warrior to the highest honor, especially if
he be the son of a former chief, or a member of a numerous family, to
support him and avenge his quarrels; but when he has reached the dignity
of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a peculiar ceremony, have
formally installed him, let it not be imagined that he assumes any of
the outward semblances of rank and honor. He knows too well on how
frail a tenure he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertain
subjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns more squaws and