aten. Old Rube has gone back to the
fire, and is roasting another rib.

The gourd seems to satisfy the Indian, for whatever purpose he intends
it. A long piece of bone, the thigh joint of the war-eagle, hangs
suspended over his breast. It is curiously carved, and pierced with
holes like a musical instrument. It is one.

He places this to his lips, covering the holes, with his fingers. He
sounds three notes, oddly inflected, but loud and sharp. He drops the
instrument again, and stands looking eastward into the woods. The eyes
of all present are bent in the same direction. The hunters, influenced
by a mysterious curiosity, remain silent, or speak only in low
mutterings.

Like an echo, the three notes are answered by a similar signal! It is
evident that the Indian has a comrade in the woods, yet not one of the
band seems to know aught of him or his comrade. Yes, one does. It is
Rube.

"Look'ee hyur, boyees!" cries he, squinting over his shoulders; "I'll
stake this rib against a griskin o' poor bull that 'ee'll see the
puttiest gal as 'ee ever set yur eyes on."

There is no reply; we are gazing too intently for the expected arrival.

A rustling is heard, as of someone parting the bushes, the tread of a
light foot, the snapping of twigs. A bright object appears among the
leaves. Someone is coming through the underwood. It is a woman.

It is an Indian girl, attired in a singular and picturesque costume.

She steps out of the bushes, and comes boldly towards the crowd. All
eyes are turned upon her with looks of wonder and admiration. We scan
her face and figure and her striking attire.

She is dressed not unlike the Indian himself, and there is resemblance
in other respects. The tunic worn by the girl is of finer materials; of
fawn-skin. It is richly trimmed, and worked with split quills, stained
to a variety of bright colours. It hangs to the middle of the thighs,
ending in a fringe-work of shells, that tinkle as she moves.

Her limbs are wrapped in leggings of scarlet cloth, fringed like the
tunic, and reaching to the ankles where they meet the flaps of her
moccasins. These last are white, embroidered with stained quills, and
fitting closely to her small feet.

A belt of wampum closes the tunic on her waist, exhibiting the globular
developments of a full-grown bosom and the undulating outlines of a
womanly person. Her headdress is similar to that worn by her companion,
but smaller and light