the front of the encampment. The savages await the return of their
hunters. Some mount and scour off toward the scene of the buffalo
battue, still going on, far out upon the plain.

We peer through the leaves with great caution, for the day is bright,
and the eyes of our enemies are quick, and scan every object. We speak
only in whispers, though our voices could not be heard if we conversed a
little louder, but fear makes us fancy that they might. We are all
concealed except our eyes. These glance through small loopholes in the
foliage.

The Indian hunters have been gone about two hours. We now see them
returning over the prairie in straggling parties.

They ride slowly back. Each brings his load before him on the withers
of his horse. They have large masses of red flesh, freshly skinned and
smoking. Some carry the sides and quarters; others the hump-ribs, the
tongue, the heart, and liver--the _petits morceaux_--wrapped up in the
skins of the slaughtered animals.

They arrive in camp, and fling their loads to the ground.

Now begins a scene of noise and confusion. The savages run to and fro,
whooping, chattering, laughing, and dancing. They draw their long
scalping-knives, and hew off broad steaks. They spit them over the
blazing fires. They cut out the hump-ribs. They tear off the white
fat, and stuff the boudins. They split the brown liver, eating it raw!
They break the shanks with their tomahawks, and delve out the savoury
marrow; and, through all these operations, they whoop, and chatter, and
laugh, and dance over the ground like so many madmen.

This scene lasts for more than an hour.

Fresh parties of hunters mount and ride off. Those who remain cut the
meat into long thin strips, and hang it over the lines already prepared
for this purpose. It is thus left to be baked by the sun into "tasajo."

We know part of what is before us. It is a fearful prospect; but men
like those who compose the band of Seguin do not despond while the
shadow of a hope remains. It is a barren spot indeed, where they cannot
find resources.

"We needn't holler till we're hurt," says one of the hunters.

"If yer call an empty belly a hurt," rejoins another, "I've got it
already. I kud jest eat a raw jackass 'ithout skinnin' him."

"Come, fellers!" cries a third, "let's gramble for a meal o' these
peenyuns."

Following this suggestion, we commence searching for the nuts of the
pine. We find to our dismay