At length, one day, a large band of Blackfeet appeared in the open
field, but in the vicinity of rocks and cliffs. They kept at a wary
distance, but made friendly signs. The trappers replied in the same way,
but likewise kept aloof. A small party of Indians now advanced, bearing
the pipe of peace; they were met by an equal number of white men, and
they formed a group midway between the two bands, where the pipe was
circulated from hand to hand, and smoked with all due ceremony. An
instance of natural affection took place at this pacific meeting.
Among the free trappers in the Rocky Mountain band was a spirited
young Mexican named Loretto, who, in the course of his wanderings, had
ransomed a beautiful Blackfoot girl from a band of Crows by whom she had
been captured. He made her his wife, after the Indian style, and she had
followed his fortunes ever since, with the most devoted affection.

Among the Blackfeet warriors who advanced with the calumet of peace she
recognized a brother. Leaving her infant with Loretto she rushed forward
and threw herself upon her brother's neck, who clasped his long-lost
sister to his heart with a warmth of affection but little compatible
with the reputed stoicism of the savage.

While this scene was taking place, Bridger left the main body of
trappers and rode slowly toward the group of smokers, with his rifle
resting across the pommel of his saddle. The chief of the Blackfeet
stepped forward to meet him. From some unfortunate feeling of distrust
Bridger cocked his rifle just as the chief was extending his hand in
friendship. The quick ear of the savage caught the click of the lock; in
a twinkling he grasped the barrel, forced the muzzle downward, and the
contents were discharged into the earth at his feet. His next movement
was to wrest the weapon from the hand of Bridger and fell him with it to