Rising from a better chair than the whole Crow nation possessed, I said, without ceremony, "How do you do, general?"
"Gracious heavens! is this you, Beckwourth?" and he seized my hand with the grip of a vice, and nearly shook off my scalp, while his lady laughed heartily at the rough salutation of two old mountaineers.
"My dear," said the general, "let me introduce you to Mr. Beckwourth, of whom you have heard me so often make mention. This is the man that saved my life on three different occasions in the Rocky Mountains; had it not been for our visitor, you would not have been Mrs. Ashley at this moment. But you look sickly, James; what is the matter?"
I replied, "I had been confined to my bed since my arrival in St. Louis."
We had a long conversation about the mountains and my residence with the Crow nation. I was very hospitably entertained by my former commander and his amiable lady, and when I left, the promise was extorted from me to make repeated calls upon them so long as I remained in the city.
About the latter end of March a courier arrived from Fort Cass, bringing tidings of a most alarming character. He had come alone through all that vast extent of Indian territory without being molested. It seemed as though a special providence had shielded him.
He found me in the theatre, and gave me a hasty rehearsal of the business. It seems that a party of trappers, who had heard of my departure to St. Louis, having fallen in with a number of Crows, had practiced upon them in regard to me.
"Your great chief is gone to the white nation," said the trapper spokesman.
"Yes, he has gone to see his friend, the great white chief."
"And you will never see him again."
"Yes, he will come back in the season of green grass."
"No, the great white chief has killed him."
"Killed him!"
"Yes!"
"What had he done that he should kill him?"
