The effect of such constant and liberal visitations to the comforter and enemy of his race, continued for several hours together, was soon made manifest in the old warrior, who grew more loquacious, more lachrymose, and more foolish every moment; until, by and by, having travelled till towards sunset, a period of six or seven hours from the time of setting out, he began to betray the most incontestable evidences of intoxication.  He reeled on the horse’s back, and finally, becoming tired of the weight of his gun, he extended it to Roland, with a very magisterial, yet friendly nod, as if bidding him take and carry it.  It was snatched from him, however, by one of the younger warriors, who was too wise to intrust a loaded carbine in the arms of a prisoner, and who had perhaps noted the sudden gleam of fire, the first which had visited them since the moment of his capture, that shot into Roland’s eyes, as he stretched forth his hands to take the weapon.

The old Piankeshaw did not seem to notice who had relieved him of the burden.  He settled himself again on the saddle as well as he could, and jogged onwards, prattling and weeping, according to the mood of the moment, now droning out an Indian song, and now nodding with drowsiness; until at last slumber or stupefaction settled so heavily upon his senses that he became incapable of guiding his horse; and the weary animal, checked by the unconscious rider, or stopping of his own accord to browse the green cane-leaves along the path, the Piankeshaw suddenly took a lurch wider than usual, and fell, like a log, to the ground.

The younger savages had watched the course of proceedings on the part of the senior with ill-concealed dissatisfaction.  The catastrophe completed their rage, which, however, was fortunately expended upon the legitimate cause of displeasure.  They tumbled the unlucky cask from its perch, and assailing it with horrible yells and as much apparent military zeal as could have been exercised upon a human enemy lying in like manner at their feet, they dashed it to pieces with their tomahawks, scattering its precious contents upon the grass.

While they were thus engaged, the senior rose from the earth, staring about him for a moment with looks of stupid inquiry; until beginning at last to comprehend the accident that had happened to him, and perhaps moved by the late of his treasure, he also burst into a fury; and snatching up the nearest gun, he clapped it to his horse’s head, and shot it dead on the spot, roaring out, “Cuss’ white-man hoss! throw old Piankeshaw!  No good nothing!  Cuss debbil hoss!”

This act of drunken and misdirected ferocity seemed vastly to incense the young warriors; and the senior waxing as wrathful at the wanton destruction of his liquor, there immediately ensued a battle of tongues betwixt the two parties, who scolded and berated one another for the space of ten minutes or more with prodigious volubility and energy, the juniors expatiating upon the murder of the horse as an act of the most unpardonable folly, while the senior seemed to insist that the wasting of so much good liquor was a felony of equally culpable dye; and it is probable he had the better side of the argument, since he continued to grumble for a long time even after he had silenced the others.