We passed the Buona Ventura, and followed the track of our white men for upwards of 200 miles, when we not only could trace it no further, but found our small party of fifteen surrounded by about eighty of our implacable enemies, the Crows.

By stratagem, we not only broke through them, but succeeded in surprising seven of their party.  My companions would have put them to death, but I would not permit it.  We secured them on their own horses, and made all the haste we could, but the Crows had discovered us and gave chase.

It was fifteen days’ travelling to our own country, and we were pursued by an enemy seven or eight times superior to us In numbers.  By various stratagems, which I shall not dwell upon, aided by the good condition of our horses, we contrived to escape them, and to bring our prisoners safe into the settlement.  Now, although we had no fighting, yet address is considered a great qualification.  On my return I was therefore admitted as a chief, with the Indian name Owato Wanisha, or “spirit of the beaver,” as appropriate to my cunning and address.  To obtain the rank of a warrior chief, it was absolutely requisite that I had distinguished myself on the field of battle.

Before I continue my narration, I must say a little more relative to the missionaries, who were my instructors.  One of them, the youngest, Polidori, was lost in the Esmeralda, when she sailed for Monterey to procure cattle.  The two others were Padre Marini and Padre Antonio.  They were both highly accomplished and learned.  Their knowledge in Asiatic lore was unbounded, and it was my delight to follow them in their researches and various theories concerning the early Indian emigration across the waters of the Pacific.

They were both Italians by birth.  They had passed many years of their lives among the nations west of the Ganges, and in their advanced years had returned to sunny Italy, to die near the spot where they had played as little children.  But they had met with Prince Seravalle, and when they heard from him of the wild tribes with whom he had dwelt, and who knew not God, they considered that it was their duty to go and instruct them.

Thus did these sincere men, old and broken, with one foot resting on their tombs, again encounter difficulties and danger, to propagate among the Indians that religion of love and mercy which they were appointed to make known.

Their efforts, however, to convert the Shoshones were fruitless.  Indian nature would seem to be a nature apart and distinct.  The red men, unless in suffering or oppression, will not listen to what they call “the smooth honey words of the pale-faced sages;” and even when they do so, they argue upon every dogma and point of faith, and remain unconvinced.  The missionaries, therefore, after a time, contented themselves with practising deeds of charity, with alleviating their sufferings when able, from their knowledge of medicine and surgery, and by moral precepts, softening down as much as they could the fierce and occasionally cruel tempers of this wild untutored race.