His wish is good, but his wisdom
is of yesterday; he cannot rule. To rule belongs to those who have
deserved doing so, by long experience. No! Owato Wanisha will lead his
warriors to the war-path, or upon the trail of the buffalo; he will go
and talk to the grandchildren of the Shoshones; more he cannot do!
"Let now the squaws prepare the farewell meal, and make ready the green
paint; to-morrow I shall depart, with fifty of my young men. I
have spoken."
The council being broken up, I had to pass through the ceremony of
smoking the pipe and shaking hands with those who could call themselves
warriors. On the following morning, fifty magnificent horses, richly
caparisoned, were led to the lawn before the council lodge. Fifty
warriors soon appeared, in their gaudiest dresses, all armed with the
lance, bow, and lasso, and rifle suspended across the shoulder. Then
there was a procession of all the tribe, divided into two bands, the
first headed by the chiefs and holy men; the other, by the young
virgins. Then the dances commenced; the elders sang their exploits of
former days, as an example to their children; the voting men exercised
themselves at the war-post; and the matrons, wives, mothers, or sisters
of the travellers painted their faces with green and red, as a token of
the nature of their mission.
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