CHAPTER XIX.
PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS.
WHEN I took leave of Shaw at La Bonté's Camp, I promised that I would meet him at Fort Laramie on the first of August. The Indians, too, intended to pass the mountains and move toward the fort. To do so at this point was impossible, because there was no passage; and in order to find one we were obliged to go twelve or fourteen miles southward. Late in the afternoon the camp got in motion. I rode in company with three or four young Indians at the rear, and the moving swarm stretched before me, in the ruddy light of sunset, or the deep shadow of the mountains, far beyond my sight. It was an ill-omened spot they chose to encamp upon. When they were there just a year before, a war-party of ten men, led by The Whirlwind's son, had gone out against the enemy, and not one had ever returned. This was the immediate cause of this season's warlike preparations. I was not a little astonished when I came to the camp, at the confusion of horrible sounds with which it was filled; howls, shrieks, and wailings rose from all the women present, many of whom, not content with this exhibition of grief for the loss of their friends and relatives, were gashing their legs deeply with knives. A warrior in the village, who had lost a brother in the expedition; chose another mode of displaying his sorrow. The Indians, who, though often rapacious, are devoid of avarice, will sometimes,
