The Weekly Butte Record

The Adventure of a Spanish Nobleman, and Legend of Arrow Rock, Situated on the Missouri

Charles V., grandson of Ferdinand and Isabella, King and Queen of Castile and Aragon, whilst seated upon the throne of Spain and Germany, was the most powerful monarch in Europe. He was a finished diplomatist, a skillful general, a liberal patron of the arts and science, but selfish, intriguing and revengeful.

History has recorded on her ample page all of his public acts, but has rarely ever lifted the domestic curtain, and given publicity to the events which transpired behind the scenes. The historians, during his reign, were either his own creatures, corrupted by his gold, or so restrained by his despotic power, that they would not, or dare not, exhibit to the public gaze any of the weakness which belong to frail humanity.

It is necessary for the purpose of this narrative that we should drag into light an event which has long been confined in the tomb of oblivion.

When in the warm glow of manhood, Charles, who was passionately fond of hunting, one day in the excitement of the chase, became estranged from his party, and lost in the wilderness. In wandering through the thick under-brush that skirted the mountain, he came across a little path which wound along its craggy sides. He immediately followed it, thinking it led to some shepherd's cot, the occupants of which could direct him in what manner he could again join his companions, who were then sounding their bugles in every direction, alarmed at his absence. He was right in his conjecture, for he came in a few moments to an open space on the mountain side, where he saw a flock of sheep attended by a shepherdess, while, some distance below, the smoke wreathed from a little hamlet to which she probably belonged.

The young shepherdess was seated upon a rock, so intently engaged in reading that she did not notice the advance of Charles, who, when within a short distance, stopped and gazed in admiration on her beauty. Though attired in a homely garb, it could not conceal the beautiful outlines of her person, but rather by its tight fit, which was worn in that manner to escape entanglement from the bushes, revealed more favorably its symmetry. Her hair was like the raven's wing, falling in a mass of curls over shoulders and bosom, and in such profusion that they effectually concealed her features from the monarch, who was most impatient for the view, but wished not to disturb her in her absorbing occupation. At length the girl gave way to a perfect hurricane of laughter. Her whole frame shook with the excess, and she placed both of her hands to her sides, to keep them from falling apart, in their enjoyment. And then the sound emanating from that laughter, it was music to the charmed ears of the Emperor, who was watching every movement, with all the intensity of youthful admiration, when the young girl turned towards him, still indulging in her mirth and putting back her wavy hair, revealed one of the most lovely countenances that ever looked upon the world.

Charles now advanced towards her, with all of the self-possession which characterizes the man of the world, and after "Tengo V. buenos dias," and a knightly compliment, stated his perplexity, and asked for a road that might conduct him to the other side of the mountain.

The young maiden replied, with cheeks blushing with confusion:

"Senor, my father, who lives in yon little hamlet, can inform you. I never wander farther from my home than the adjoining pastures for my sheep, and know nothing of the passes of the mountains."

Whilst she was speaking, Charles had advanced towards her, and taking up the book which she had let fall in her confusion, was surprised, on looking at the title, to see that it was the "Life and Adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha."

"Ah! this accounts for your spells of laughing," said he. "By my troth, this book would excite the risibles of a misanthrope. But tell me, how did you become so educated, living here in these secluded mountains? Who instructed you?"

"My father, Senor," replied she, "was brought up for the church, and is a learned man. Whilst officiating in the province of Andalusia, he saw my mother, and became so strongly attached to her that, despite all of his efforts, he fell deeply in love with her, which, you know, was a mortal sin for a man of God. Such was the excess of his love, that his health commenced to fail, and he made application to the Pope to get absolution that he might marry my mother. His Holiness refused even to listen to his supplication, and my father, yielding to the promptings of affection, married my mother, and retired to a small estate that she possessed. I was born of this union, and after my birth, my mother's health commenced to decline, and gradually she faded, and died five years from the date of her marriage."

…My father was inconsolable for her loss, and looking upon the event as a retribution of heaven, for the breaking of his vows, retired to these mountains, where he spends most of his time in prayer and penance for atonement of his sins." Every day he devotes three hours to my education, and the remaining hours I spend with my flocks in the pastures, or in the culture of some hardy plants, that can live in these inclement mountains."

The beauty, the intelligence and naivete of the young shepherdess were irresistible, and the heart of Charles welcomed the romantic attachment which he felt was fast bleeding him in its silken fetters.

He had become satiated with the accomplished beauties of the Court, who owed so much of their attractions to the advantages of costume, the polish of manner, and the circumstance of birth. He had, by accident, discovered one whose artless manner was more captivating, and whose superior beauty owed nothing to the adventitious aid of art or ornament. He lingered as long as possible in her society, without wounding her delicacy, and bidding her adieu, was wending his way to where her father lived, when he saw one of his cavaliers approaching him, who had made a circuitous route, and unexpectedly found him.

Charles, then, as there was no necessity to visit the cot of the father of the shepherdess, after again bidding her adieu, under the guidance of his attendant, started to join his retinue, who were alarmed at his absence. After this period, the neighborhood where Marcella, (for that was the name of the young shepherdess,) dwelt, became the favorite hunting ground of Charles, who would, on these occasions, absent himself awhile from his attendants, who were too well drilled in their duties to pry into his motives, and visit Marcella, who would be alone on the mountain side with her flock.

After the coyness, natural to a young maiden, had vanished from frequent interviews, it was not unnatural for Marcella, who had seen nothing of the sterner sex, except the rough goat-herds of the mountains, with the tender affections yet all her own should become interested in one possessed of such a gallant exterior and accomplished manner: and finally to love him. She had been reared in the simplicity of country life, and knew not that the presence of royalty were as deadly to the existence of beauty and innocence as the poisonous Upas tree.

That Charles loved her there could not be the least doubt, for, though he had for years pursued the life of a voluptuary, yet he had never met with a being to whom alone his soul could offer its worship, without feeling a desire to bow to another shrine, but the principle implanted in him from his birth, "that royal blood should not bend in wedlock but with royal blood," retained so vividly its impression, that, though Marcella had the first offerings of his heart, he never dreamed of taking her in marriage. The royal blood of Castile and Aragon must be transmitted pure and unadulterated by peasant blood. He could offer to her wealth, station, power—everything but—the sacred title of wife.

Marcella, from maiden reserve and timidity, had neglected to inform her father of her first interview with Charles, and as each succeeding one widened the chasm and rendered it more difficult, she resolved to keep altogether a secret the new epoch which had marked her existence—this being very easy, as the interviews between the lovers always took place when Marcella tended her flock upon the mountains.

For more than a year, Charles, libertine as he was, made no attempt upon the virtue of Marcella. Though passion, like a boiling lava, was seething in his veins, yet, in her presence, every unchaste desire was quenched, as her eyes bent on him their flood of light, in which were blended the confidence of trusting affection and the holiness of virgin innocence. At the expiration of this period her father died, and as she had no protector to whom she could look to, in the hour of her desolation she accepted the offer of Charles, who placed her in a noble family, where she was treated with all the attention bestowed upon rank, during the year of her mourning, and after which time, she was introduced at court, where she became renowned for her beauty and the preference of the most powerful monarch of Europe.

In the glare of a dissipated court, Marcella forgot the purity and innocence of her former life, and yielding to the witching influence of the splendid vices which flourished in the sunshine of royal favor, became a follower and then a leader of the vicious crowd of beauties which adorned the court of Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Spain and Germany. For many years she was the favorite of the Emperor, and when taken with her last sickness, wrote to him a most affecting letter, in which, after rendering him thanks for his love and devotion, which, for years had never waned in its force, she commended to his care and affection her son, then ten years of age, who had been placed under the charge of careful and experienced teachers.

The young Garcia, (that was his name,) after completing his preparatory studies, entered one of the most eminent universities of the kingdom. He knew the stain which rested upon his birth, and was very sensitive on the subject.

The young Garcia was always popular with the students, but was far from being a favorite with the professors, for he looked on his studies with dislike, and the wholesome restraint to which he was subjected as slavish thraldom. He was the leader of all the mischievous pranks played at the University, would elude the vigilance of the professors and with a band of his dare-devil associates would visit the town at the midnight hour, and with their yells, tinkling of cymbals and sounding of horns, would arouse the inhabitants from their slumber, and frightened almost into convulsions all the nervous old maids in the neighborhood. If the police interfered, unless they were in large force, these scape-graces would attack the guardians of the night—pummel them without mercy, and threaten them with death if they dared enter a complaint in the halls of justice.

The name of Garcia became such a terror to the town, and such a reproach to the University, that the professors, after a long period of forbearance, from the fact of his connexion with the Emperor, resolved to expel him. One of the officers of the institution bore the fiat which commanded Garcia to leave the halls of the University within twenty-four hours.

On receiving this message, Garcia, whose passions at times were uncontrollable, drew his dagger and stabbed him to the heart. He was then arrested by the authorities, after making a desperate resistance and wounding dangerously two of the officers of the law.

He was tried for the murder of the professor, and should have been executed for the offence according to the laws of the country, yet, being the son of the Emperor, though an illegitimate one, and probably by the secret instructions of the Emperor himself, he was sentenced to leave Spain forever.

It was on the eve of the departure of the expedition under De Soto that sentence was pronounced, and that renowned adventurer offered him an honorable appointment in the army under his command, about to sail for America.

The adventurous life to which he was subjected on his arrival in the New World appeared to be in unison with the instincts of Garcia, and he became one of the most daring of the daring officers under De Soto's command. He was with the party of the Spanish soldiers who discovered Juan Ortiz who had been left in Florida during the ill-fated expedition under Narvaez, and listened with wonder and admiration to his thrilling adventures—he being the only white man in the whole southern country, and amid savages who regarded the white man as their feudal enemies.

His romantic adventures and hair-breadth escapes made a deep impression upon the mind of Garcia, and probably implanted in his mind a desire to adopt from choice a savage life and amalgamate himself with the Indians where he could give an unbridled license to his appetites, which were the predominant characteristics of his nature.

Garcia followed the fortunes of De Soto until he crossed the Mississippi and went into Arkansas, and naturally thinking that in a little time the whole army would be cut off by the hostile savages, after cultivating for some time the friendship of a distinguished Cacique, while the Spaniards were in winter quarters, he went over to the tribe of the chief and married one of his swarthy daughters.

When De Soto returned to the Mississippi, Garcia, despite the remonstrances and commands of his general, remained with his savage father-in-law, apparently delighted with the manners, customs and habits of his new relations.

What was the ultimate fate of Garcia is left to conjecture, amid the wild legends which make the historic record of the Indians. It is more than probable that he left Arkansas, and after long wandering settled among the Pawnee Indians, which may account for the known partiality which the tribe had for the Spaniards, when all other savage nations held them in utter abhorrence.

That this conjecture is based upon probability will appear from the following facts, and the legend that supports them:

When Polancette Chasseure, the founder of St. Charles, somewhere in the year 1772, was navigating the Missouri, some miles above where Franklin now stands, for the purpose of discovery, he came in the neighborhood of Arrow Rock, and there saw to his great astonishment a white man sitting at the base of the granite bluff cooking a choice piece of venison which he had cut from the carcass of a deer that he had just slain. Chasseur was anxious to make the acquaintance of this white man who had preceded him in the wilderness when he thought he would only see the Indian in his primitive wildness. He found him to be a Frenchman, who becoming fond of a lonely savage life, had wandered from Canada and for years had lived with the barbarous tribes who inhabit the banks of the Missouri. Among other singular things which this wanderer of the wilderness showed to Chasseur was a golden crucifix, which he had obtained from a Pawnee chief, in whose family it had been for several generations. He then told Chasseur that the little crucifix was connected with the rock where they then were, and which is now known as Arrow Rock by the voyager up the Missouri. At the request of Chasseur the hunter then commenced and related the legend as follows:

THE INDIAN LEGEND OF ARROW ROCK SITUATED ON THE MISSOURI

Two great tribes have always lived here adjoining each other, but mortal foes. The Missouris and Pawnees, as long as they have been in existence they have never buried the hatchet.

Each tribe has produced great warriors, and many were the battles fought between these nations when they were in their full power, before the dreadful small-pox came and swept them off by thousands. Many were killed in these conflicts, but so nearly was each tribe balanced in numbers, and the courage of their warriors so equal that there was no advantage gained, and after fighting many years, their strength, as compared with each other, was the same as before.

But once, when the Pawnees and the Missouris met in battle there were by far more of the latter slain than ever was before, and they were completely put to flight the arrows of the Pawnees were pointed with a hard and sharp material which cut the flesh and penetrated easily to the heart; and there was a strange warrior who rushed foremost to the battle, and would not take shelter behind a tree when the bow was drawn upon him, but the arrows glanced from his body as from a rock, though they were sent by the arms of the stoutest warriors.

The Pawnee Indians were proud of their success, and advanced far in the Missouris country before the latter had courage to oppose them, so great was the terror with which the remembrance of the last battle inspired them. At length they collected in great force, their numbers far exceeding those of the Pawnees, and they advanced upon them confident of victory. At the first onset the Pawnees were frightened at the great number of the warriors of the Missouris, and would have fled from the country, but the strange warrior called to them in a strange tongue, and rushed against the Missouris with a bright sharp weapon, which glittered like a thing of light in the sunbeams, and with which he swept the warriors down like dried grass before the fire. The arrows fell thick around him and struck his body in every direction, for the Missouris were anxious for his death, and nearly all of their arrows were drawn against him, but they fell as if they had struck upon a rock.

The Pawnees then recovered from their fright, as they saw their champion making headway against the whole army of their foes and then the Missouris fled, believing that some Manito in the human form was angry with them and assisting their enemies. In this battle the Missouris lost the flower of their warriors, and great was the rejoicings of the Pawnees, for the scalp-locks of their enemies hung in plenty from their girdles. After the victory, they took up their march to their own country, singing the songs of victory and garnering in their hearts the delights which were still in store for them when the prisoners they had with them would run the gauntlet, and writhe in torture at the stake.

The Missouris had as much cause to mourn as their enemies to rejoice. Their great warriors had fallen in the battle field, and the great nation was almost left at the mercy of their enemies. Squaws were howling for their husbands and sons, and children crying for their fathers, while the countenances of the warriors were fierce and gloomy.

A council was called of the old warriors of the nation, whose wisdom might teach them what to do in this hour of sorrow, and still greater misfortune in the future, for they knew that their enemies would return again and again, until the whole nation of the Missouris would be in the spirit land. Accordingly the old men met, and it was determined that the medicine men of the nation should pray to the Great Spirit to look with pity upon them, and preserve them from the power of their enemies, who had prevailed against them, and particularly to shield them from that wicked Manito who had taken a human form and was killing their greatest warriors. The medicine men then commenced mumbling their prayers, practising their gestures, and their writhing. They danced like demons in mazy circles, long feathers of birds sticking from every part of their bodies and ornaments pending from their eyes and noses, while on their heels were attached long pieces of elk horn, which in their movements struck against each other, emitting a loud, clattering noise. In quick, lyrical numbers they chanted prayers, and after another dance, and then twisting and contortions on the earth, the incantation was finished, and they declared the Great Spirit appeased.

The Indians of all nations are the slaves of the marvelous, and after the revelation of the medicine men, all felt assured of victory in their next encounter with their enemies. So confident were they of success that they wished for the time that the Pawnees would again invade the country that they might take ample vengeance upon them for past defeats. They had not long to wait. The Pawnees, confident of success, again invaded the country of their feudal enemies, attended by the strange warrior from whose body the arrows fell to the ground with their points blunted. A bloody battle was fought and again the Missouris were defeated with immense loss, because of the feats of the warrior whom they supposed was a spirit in human form. Whenever he moved in fight, the warriors shrunk with fear to the covert, for they knew no weapons could effect him. His presence struck as much terror to the hearts of the Missouris as his deeds, and after a short conflict they fled howling from the field, leaving many warriors to be scalped, and many prisoners to be taken to the Pawnee country and there to die by the torture.

Among the Missouris was a youth who had been longing to take part in the contest. He was the son of the most distinguished chief of the nation, who had been slain in the first battle with the Pawnees, by the strange warrior who was invulnerable.

The death of his father sunk deep into the mind of the youth, and his heart beat for revenge. For hours he would sit in the wigwam where still lived the aged father of the dead chief, who would tell him of the deeds of his youth before the frost of age had chilled the blood in his heart, and shrunk the sinews of his strength: he then would tell him the deeds of his son, the father of the youth, how while he was in his first battle, when the warriors were flying before the gigantic Chief of the Pawnees, he faced the warrior in single combat, slew him, and dragged the scalp lock from his head.

These recitals of his aged grandfather, operated like fuel upon the flame, already burning vividly in the bosom of the youth, until his whole spirit glowed and panted with the wish to perform some deed worthy of his illustrious strain.

He last heard of the feats performed by the strange warrior that arrows could not kill, and he resolved to find out whether he was a spirit or man. It wanted yet two moons of the time when his fast was to commence, to see if some good spirit would come in his dreams and communicate something that would be a benefit to the nation and of importance to himself. The intervening time the fearless youth resolved to employ in visiting the Pawnee country, and if possible to watch the habits and movements of the strange warrior, whom his nation thought to be a Bad Manito.

He secretly prepared for his undertaking, taking a few pieces of dried buffalo meat, a quiver of arrows, and a bow he had just made from the antlers of a stag. He started, using every precaution to leave no impress of his trail, for fear he might be followed by the warriors of his tribe, and thereby his purpose be defeated. The journey was a wearisome one, but in a short time he arrived in the Pawnee country, and had to increase all of his precautions. He traveled only during the night wending his course by the stars, for it is a part of the education of an Indian youth to understand the position and movements of some of the planetary orbs, so necessary to their habits of life. Manutee, for that was the name of the fearless youth, at length came in sight of the Pawnee villages.

He had now to call into action, all of the strategic lore he possessed, lest his presence be discovered. It wanted some hours of day-break, and he searched about for a good hiding place during the day, and so situated that he could see what was passing in the village. He could see no place that suited. Determining to accomplish his purpose, for which he had already undergone so many privations and incurred many dangers, he ascended the top of the largest lodge, and after some difficulty succeeded in ensconcing himself in the aperture on the top of the chimney.

He remained there quite snug until the squaw commenced to cook breakfast, which was to broil a venison steak upon the coals. The fire commenced to kindle, but the smoke having no vent to escape by the chimney, all turned back and filled the lodge, besides almost smothering Manutee at the top of the chimney. The squaw was persevering, for she well knew that her husband who had sallied out before day, after deer, would soon arrive and she would receive a correction, the bare thought of which would make her shudder, if the breakfast was not ready. So she went out and gathered an arm full of dried sticks, determined in her mind to have a fire.

She blew and enlivened the embers, but still the smoke, as fast as it ascended the chimney, came back; but still the squaw piled on the sticks and kept blowing, when lo! down came Manutee, who could stand the smoke no longer, falling upon the head of the squaw, burning her nose, and nearly frightening her to death. She rushed from the lodge, crying and yelling, saying that the Thunder God had come down her chimney, and had singed her nose with his lightning.

When Manutee fell, he had dragged with him clay and stones of which the chimney was built, and finding there was no one to scalp him, for he had expected to be instantly killed by the occupants of the lodge, he took refuge beneath a huge pile of skins which opportunely lay in a corner. His bow and arrows he had with him, and just fixed himself snugly in his hiding place, when in rushed a crowd of Indians to see what had so frightened the squaw. When they saw the clay and stones, the cause seemed apparent and they burst into roars of laughter at the simplicity of the squaw, who had thought the Thunder God had come from the heavens. The squaw did not appear altogether satisfied, but there, before her eyes, were the stones and clay, and it must have been they which had fallen.

Manutee was in a critical position; the slightest examination of the skins would expose him; one warrior half advanced to the pile, but, probably fearing that he might be laughed at for his suspicions, forbore to examine it. After rallying the squaw a good deal upon her fears of the Thunder God, the crowd departed.

After the departure of her neighbors, the squaw looked cautiously again and again up the chimney, and perfectly satisfied that her fright, and the burn on her nose were caused by the fall of the clay and the stones, she indulged in a hearty laugh, and then commenced to build again the fire, with which she had no trouble, and soon the savory flavor of the steak was spread over the lodge, penetrating even under the pile of skins, and making the mouth of Manutee, despite his dangerous position, water for a chance at the delicious morsel.

Hours passed by, and the warrior who owned the lodge came not, though every now and then the squaw would go to the door and look wistfully for his appearance; then, when near mid-day, she sat down to her solitary breakfast. Whilst she was enjoying this meal with an appetite sharpened by her long fast, in came a warrior of a slighter figure than usual among the Indians, and with different features and complexion. He was dressed in the costume of the Indians, but wore suspended at his side a long sword. Seeing the squaw enjoying a nice steak all alone, he took a seat beside her (which an Indian warrior would not do,) and the two soon despatched it.

At the first sight of the warrior, Manutee felt confident that it was he, who struck such terror in the hearts of the Missouris, and had slain his father. All doubts on the subject was finally removed, when the warrior went away for a few hours, and brought into the lodge pieces of metal of different shapes, which he commenced cleaning, assisted by the woman, and then fitted the pieces of metal to his person.

Manutee scarcely daring to breathe, intently watched every movement, and particularly remarked the apertures that were left in the visor for the eyes, whose orbs he could see plainly moving. He was tempted to his bow, and try his arrow against this terror of his tribe, and murderer of his father, but he felt how futile would be the attempt, for the Indians were passing in crowds before the door at all times, which precluded all possibility of escape, and besides his arrow might fail of its purpose, and his nation would be wholly destroyed.

He restrained the impulse which urged him to the deed, and listened that he might glean all that was of importance in their conversation. But he could hear very distinctly, and that little didn't instruct him. It was late in the afternoon that the husband of the squaw came home, loaded with the choice portions of a deer that he had killed. The other warrior had departed, and when the squaw told her husband of her fright in the morning, he laughed heartily and then stretched himself at the door of the lodge, for he had been much fatigued in the chase. His squaw prepared his supper, and he looked attentively at his pile of skins with much satisfaction, as it appeared of such respectable size. He took up one or two and examined them, and then turned away.

Manutee escaped by a miracle. It had now become dark, and he felt that the night was before him, should he be discovered, and he was more hopeful of a happy termination of his adventure. Soon the warrior lay down to sleep, and then the squaw, but not in the corner where Manutee was concealed. They took a few skins from the pile to make their bed, and, unsuspicious, were soon asleep.

When half of the night had passed and the village was buried in profound slumber, Manutee cautiously came from his hiding-place, fitted an arrow to his bow string, and by the light of the expiring embers, aimed the shaft at the head of the warrior. It penetrated his brain, and as he writhed in his death agony, another sped to the heart of the squaw before she had sufficiently awakened to give the alarm. He then scalped them, that he might carry away some trophy of his victory, and, before the morning's dawn, was far on his way to the country of the Missouris. He knew directly the deed was discovered his enemies would be upon his track, but he was fleet of foot, and had a good start of his pursuers, and after a few days and nights of almost constant and rapid travel, he arrived safely in his own country, when he was welcomed as one arisen from the dead.

When asked to relate his adventures, Manutee asked of his grandfather to postpone his request until after his fast, which was to commence in three days. The old man consented, for he had all confidence in the wisdom of his grandson, and the whole nation was loud in his praise, since they saw the two scalps that he had taken from their enemies.

Manutee told the old men of the nation to prepare the young men for battle, for the Pawnees would soon be upon them in great force, and then it being time for his fast to commence, he retired to the wilderness, to wait, if he would be fortunate, to receive any divine revelation.

The season of his fast was the commencement of autumn, and the place which he chose for his lonely musings, at this very bluff. The first day and night passed, and no angel-spirit visited him in his dreams. The second, third, fourth and fifth also passed by, and nothing supernatural cheered the drooping spirit of Manutee. He was weak and dreadfully emaciated from hunger, and he was desponding in his heart, for he thought no good Manito took an interest in his welfare.

On the sixth morning of his fast, his aged grandsire came with provisions and besought him to eat, as he tottered from weakness and had waned to a shadow. He begged and entreated him to eat, and Manutee, to obtain a little longer time, told him to come when the sun had sunk behind the prairies. After his departure, the youth prayed fervently to the Great Spirit, that he would look with a pitying eye upon him, who had starved six days, waiting patiently for some sign or token of his goodness. He then sunk into a sound sleep, and behold! his father, armed as he was wont, when he went on the war-path, came to him with a countenance smiling with pleasure.

"My son," said he, "the Great Spirit has heard your prayer, and is pleased with the patience with which you have endured your fast; he has sent me to you to comfort and instruct you. You will be the great chief of the Missouris, and save the great nation from destruction. Listen, that the strange warrior who has killed so many chiefs, may be slain. He is no Manito, but has come from a far-off nation, and wears hard pieces of metal to protect every part of his body from the arrows. Let all the Missouri warriors come here and take pieces of this rock for their arrows: for the Great Spirit has hardened this rock above all others. When the battle commences, let them aim at the head of the strange warrior and an arrow will pierce his eye, and drink the blood of his brain, through the hole which is left in the hard metal, through which he can see. He will fall, and the arrows of the Missouris will be bloody that day in the heart's blood of their enemies. Farewell! I go to the happy hunting fields, where I will rejoice in the fame of Manutee, the great chief of the Missouris."

The broad disc of an autumn sun was just sinking below the horizon, when Manutee awoke. His aged grandsire was at his side with a supply of tempting eatables, and a smile was on the features of the youth as he remembered the apparition of the trance. His mind was happy, but so reduced had he become from physical suffering, that he could scarcely rise to his feet. He ate sparingly of the food, and being strengthened by the nourishment, related to his grandsire what he had seen in his dream.

The grandsire listened attentively to the revelation, and looking upon the bed of stone, found that its mouldering texture had been changed to the hardest material. A great council of the nation was called, and Manutee related all that had passed during his fast, and the stone, when it became known to the tribe, the warriors came to the rock and broke off pieces, which they shaped into points for their arrows.

Again the Pawnees came into the Missouri country, resolved, on this occasion, totally to exterminate them. The Missouris, encouraged by Manutee, had lost all of their superstitious fears, and went forth in their full strength to meet their enemies.

As usual, the strange warrior rushed in front of the Pawnees, but the arrows which had formerly been aimed at his heart, now struck against his head, and one entered the brain, through one of the holes which had been left for his eyes. With a groan he fell dead upon the ground, and with his first war whoop of victory, Manutee sprang to the spot, tore off his helmet and visor, and in a moment shook his reeking scalp in the air. At the sight the Missouri warriors uttered a shout of triumph, and rushed against the Pawnees, who, discouraged at the fall of the great warrior who had come amongst them, and had been their champion in so many battles, were so spiritless and paralyzed, that they made but little resistance, and lost the whole of their effective force in this battle.

There was an universal jubilee among the Missouris, who now in their turn had become conquerors, when so near the despairing hour, and by universal acclamation Manutee was elected chief of the nation. When the battle was over, and the pursuit of the Pawnees finished, Manutee ordered the dead body of the strange warrior to be brought to the bluff of rocks where he had received the revelation. He laid it on a pile of wood and burnt it there as a sacrifice to the manes of his father.

From that day to this, the mound of rocks has been called Arrow Rock, and has been visited by the Indians to obtain material for the point of their arrows, because of its durability. For many years the lodge of Manutee contained the coat of mail which the White Warrior wore, and this gold crucifix which I now have. Years have passed away, and many generations have come and departed, yet one of the family of the Manutee has always been chief of the Missouris, and I married one of the descendants who was in possession of this relic, and when she died, I have kept it carefully since, having been brought up in the Catholic faith.

Blanchette Chasseur, after the hunter had finished his narrative, looked again at the cross, and read distinctly engraved upon it the name of "Marcella."

It is more than probable that the warrior whose body was burnt on Arrow Rock, and who was owner of the cross, was Garcia, who had deserted from De Soto, and who was the son of Charles V. and Marcella, the shepherdess.