Page:The life and adventures of James P. Beckwourth, mountaineer, scout, pioneer, and chief of the Crow nation of Indians (IA lifeadventuresof00beckrich).pdf/382



HILE in the midst of my occupations, a messenger was despatched to me by the chief of a Cheyenne village, at that time encamped about twenty miles distant, with an invitation to visit them and trade there. This village was composed of outlaws from all the surrounding tribes, who were expelled from their various communities for sundry infractions of their rude criminal code; they had acquired a hard name for their cruelties and excesses, and many white traders were known to have been killed among them. The chief's name was Mo-he-nes-to (the Elk that Calls), and he was a terror to all white people in that region. The village numbered three hundred lodges, and could bring from twelve to fifteen hundred warriors into the field—the best fighters of the nation. We called it the City of Refuge.

The messenger arrived at my post, and inquired for the Crow.

"I am the Crow," I answered.

"The great chief, Mo-he-nes-to, wants the Crow to come to his lodge."

"What does he want with me?"

"He wants to trade much."

"What does he want to trade?"

"He wants much whisky, much beads, much scarlet, much kettles," and he enumerated a list of articles.

"Have your people any robes by them?"