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Show 154 THE CALIFORNIA AND OREGON TRAIL. French, American, and negro blood, was trading for the Fur Company, in a very large village of the Crows. Jim Beckwith was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian of the first stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without honor or honesty; such at least is the character he bears upon the prairie. Yet in his case all the standard rules of character fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, he will also perform most des~ perate acts of darlng; such for instance as the following: While he was in the Crow village, a Blackfoot war-party, between thirty and forty in number, came stealing through the country, killing stragglers and carrying off horses. The Crow warriors got upon their trail and pressed them so closely that they could not escape, at which the Blackfeet, throwing up a semicircular b. reastwork of logs at the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their approach. The logs and sticks piled four or five feet high, protected them in front. The Crows might have swept over the breastwork and exterminated their enemies; but though outnumbering them tenfold, they did not dream of storming the little fortification. Such a proceeding would be altogether repugnant to their notions of warfare. Whooping and yelling, and jumping from side to side like devils incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon the logs; not a Blackfoot was hurt, but several Crows, in spite of their leaping and dodging were shot down. In this childish manner, the fight went on for an hour or two. Now and then a Crow warrior in an ecstasy of valor and vainglory would scream forth his war-song, boasting himself the bravest and greatest of mankind, and grasping his hatchet, would rush up and strike it upon the breastwork, and then as he retreated to his companions, fall dead under a shower of arrows; yet no • THE WAR PARTIES. 155 combined attack seemed to be dreamed of. The Blackfeet re~ mained secure in their intrenchment. At last Jim Beckwith lost patience ; ' You are all fools and old women,' he said to the Crows; 'come with me, if any of you are brave enough, and I will show you how to fight.' I-Ie threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and stripped himself naked like the Indians themselves. He left his rifle on the ground, and taking in his hand a small light hatchet, he ran over the prairie to the right, concealed by a hollow from th~ eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climbing up the rocks, he gamed the top of the precipice behind them. Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. By the cries and whoops that rose frmn below he knew that the Blackfeet were just beneath him ; and 1·unning forward he leaped down the rock into the midst of them. As he fell he caught one by the long loose hair, and dragging him down tomahawked him; then grasping anothe-r by the belt at his waist, he struck him also a stunning blow, and gaining his feet, shouted the Crow war~ cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely around him, that the astonished Blackfeet bore back and gave him room. He might, had h~ chosen, have leaped over the breastwork and escaped; but th1s was not necessary, for with devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in quick succession over the rock among their enemies. The main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from the front, and rushed up simultaneously. The convulsive struggle within the breastwork was frightful ; ~or an instant the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers ; but the butchery was soon complete, and the mangled • |
