remain to this day. My rival did not even strike at the Indian I had killed.
He then said to me, "You are truly a great warrior and a great brave; I was wrong in saying what I did. We are now good friends."
Our few enemies were quickly exterminated, the loss on our side being four wounded, including my powder-wound. My fame was still farther celebrated, for I had again struck down the first man, who was a great chief, and had actually charged up to the muzzle of his gun, what few Indians have the stamina to do. On our return with the spoils of victory we were warmly congratulated by the tribe, and I was still farther ennobled by the additional name of Bull's Robe, conferred on me by my father.
It was now the fall of the year. I had been a Crow for many moons. It was time to repair to the trading-post to obtain what articles we needed. I determined to accompany the party, and at least attend to the sale of my own effects. What peltry I had was worth three thousand dollars in St. Louis, and I was solicitous to obtain something like an equivalent in exchange for it.
We proceeded to Fort Clarke, on the Missouri. I waited until the Indians had nearly completed their exchanges, speaking nothing but Crow language, dressed like a Crow, my hair as long as a Crow's, and myself as black as a crow. No one at the post doubted my being a Crow. Toward the conclusion of the business, one of my tribe inquired in his own language for "be-has-i-pe-hish-a.". The clerk could not understand his want, and there was none of the article in sight for the Indian to point out. He at length called Kipp to see if he could divine the Indian’s meaning.
I then said in English, "Gentlemen, that Indian wants scarlet cloth."
If a bomb-shell had exploded in the fort they could not have been more astonished,
"Ah," said one of them, "you speak English! Where did you learn it?"
"With the white man."
"How long were you with the whites?"
