At this village I was born, being a lineal descendant of the first
chief, Nanamakee, or Thunder. Few, if any events of note transpired
within my recollection until about my fifteenth year. I was not
allowed to paint or wear feathers, but distinguished myself at an
early age by wounding an enemy; consequently I was placed in the ranks
of the Braves.
Soon after this a leading chief of the Muscow nation came to our
village for recruits to go to war against the Osages, our common
enemy.
I volunteered my services to go, as my father had joined him, and was
proud to have an opportunity to prove to him that I was not an
unworthy son, and that I had courage and bravery. It was not long
before we met the enemy and a battle immediately ensued. Standing by
my father's side, I saw him kill his antagonist and tear the scalp
from off his head. Fired with valor and ambition, I rushed furiously
upon another and smote him to the earth with my tomahawk. I then ran
my lance through his body, took off his scalp and returned in triumph
to my father.
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