e of a snake, the heart of a deer,
and the ill-will of a scorpion; be silent, for I and mine despise thee
and thine. Yet, fear not; thou mayest depart in peace, for a Comanche is
too noble not to respect a white flag, even when carried by a wolf or a
fox. Till sunset eat, but alone; smoke, but not in our calumets; repose
in two or three lodges, for we can burn them after pollution; and then
depart, and say to thy people, that the Comanche, having but one tongue
and one nature, can neither speak with nor understand an Oposh-ton-ehoc.

"Take back thy presents; my young men will have none of them, for they
can accept nothing except from a friend; and if thou look'st at their
feet, thou shalt see their mocassins, their leggings, even their
bridles, are braided with the hair of thy people, perhaps of thy
brothers. Take thy 'Shoba-wapo' (fire-water), and give it to drink to
thy warriors, that we may see them raving and tumbling like swine.
Silence, and away with thee. Our squaws will follow ye on your trail for
a mile, to burn even the grass ye have trampled upon near our village.
Away with you all, now and for ever! I have said!!!"

The American force was numerous and well armed, and a moment, a single
moment, deeply wounded by these bitter taunts, they looked as if they
would fight and die to resent the insult; but it was only a transient
feeling; for they had their orders, and they went away, scorned and
humiliated. Perhaps, too, an inward voice whispered to them that they
deserved their shame and humiliation; perhaps the contrast of their
conduct with that of the savages awakened in them some better feeling,
which had a long time remained dormant, and they were now disgusted with
themselves and their odious policy.

As it was, they departed in silence, and the last of their line had
vanished under the horizon before the Indians could smother the
indignation and resentment which the strangers had excited within their
hearts. Days, however, passed away, and with them the recollection of
the event. Afterwards, I chanced to meet, in the Arkansas, with the
Colonel who commanded. He was giving a very strange version of his
expedition; and as I heard facts so distorted, I could not help
repeating to myself the words of Auku-wonze-zee, "The Oposh-ton-ehoc is
a double-tongued liar!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

One morning, Roche, Gabriel, and myself were summoned to the great
council lodge; there we met with the four Comanches w