On the trip back, Beckwourth ruminated over how he might bend the Crow to more peaceful ways. When the men spoke of their deeds around the campfire at night, he was silent, but when there was a pause, he told of how they and their families would want for nothing if they concentrated on trading with the whites. Blank stares were what he got in return, but no matter; he knew this would take time.
Big Bowl was delighted to see that his son had returned, but he was agitated, or as the Crow would say, his maxpe was up. Horses had been stolen by the Blackfeet, some of them Big Bowl’s, and he was making preparations to catch the thieves. But he had raised only a pitiful, few warriors.
maxpe“Father,” said Beckwourth, “I fear for your life if you go on this raid.”
“Do not fear for my life, for I
