The Indian chief did not move a muscle. He was a tall, powerful
savage, almost naked, and mounted on a coal-black charger, which he
sat with the ease of a man accustomed to ride from infancy. He was,
indeed, a splendid-looking savage, but his face wore a dark frown,
for, although he and his band had visited the settlements and
trafficked with the fur-traders on the Missouri, he did not love the
"Pale-faces," whom he regarded as intruders on the hunting-grounds of
his fathers, and the peace that existed between them at that time was
of a very fragile character. Indeed, it was deemed by the traders
impossible to travel through the Indian country at that period except
in strong force, and it was the very boldness of the present attempt
that secured to our hunters anything like a civil reception.

Joe, who could speak the Pawnee tongue fluently, began by explaining
the object of his visit, and spoke of the presents which he had
brought for the great chief; but it was evident that his words made
little impression. As he discoursed to them the savages crowded round
the little party, and began to handle and examine their dresses
and weapons with a degree of rudeness that caused Joe considerable
anxiety.

"Mahtawa believes that the heart of the Pale-face is true," said the
savage, when Joe paused, "but he does not choose to make peace. The
Pale-faces are grasping. They never rest. They turn their eyes to the
great mountains and say, 'There we will stop.' But even there they
will not stop. They are never satisfied; Mahtawa knows them well."

This speech sank like a death-knell into the hearts of the hunters,
for they knew that if the savages refused to make peace, they would