during the long generations of forest warfare. It was small wonder that
men who had thus lost every thing should sometimes be fairly crazed by
their wrongs. Again and again on the frontier we hear of some such
unfortunate who has devoted all the remainder of his wretched life to
the one object of taking vengeance on the whole race of the men who had
darkened his days forever. Too often the squaws and pappooses fell
victims of the vengeance that should have come only on the warriors; for
the whites regarded their foes as beasts rather than men, and knew that
the squaws were more cruel than others in torturing the prisoner, and
that the very children took their full part therein, being held up by
their fathers to tomahawk the dying victims at the stake.[26]

Thus it is that there are so many dark and bloody pages in the book of
border warfare, that grim and iron-bound volume, wherein we read how our
forefathers won the wide lands that we inherit. It contains many a tale
of fierce heroism and adventurous ambition, of the daring and resolute
courage of men and the patient endurance of women; it shows us a stern
race of freemen who toiled hard, endured greatly, and fronted adversity
bravely, who prized strength and courage and good faith, whose wives
were chaste, who were generous and loyal to their friends. But it shows
us also how they spurned at restraint and fretted under it, how they
would brook no wrong to themselves, and yet too often inflicted wrong on
others; their feats of terrible prowess are interspersed with deeds of
the foulest and most wanton aggression, the darkest treachery, the most
revolting cruelty; and though we meet with plenty of the rough, strong,
coarse virtues, we see but little of such qualities as mercy for the
fallen, the weak, and the helpless, or pity for a gallant and vanquished
foe.

Among the Indians of the northwest, generally so much alike that we need