Henry was one of the most modest of men; yet in
the simplicity and frankness of his character, it was quite clear that
he looked upon his pre-eminence in this respect as a thing too palpable
and well established ever to be disputed. But whatever may have been
his estimate of his own skill, it was rather below than above that which
others placed upon it. The only time that I ever saw a shade of scorn
darken his face was when two volunteer soldiers, who had just killed a
buffalo for the first time, undertook to instruct him as to the best
method of "approaching." Henry always seemed to think that he had a sort
of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look upon them as something
belonging peculiarly to himself. Nothing excited his indignation so much
as any wanton destruction among the cows, and in his view shooting a
calf was a cardinal sin.

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same age; that is, about
thirty. Henry was twice as large, and fully six times as strong as Tete
Rouge. Henry's face was roughened by winds and storms; Tete Rouge's was
bloated by sherry cobblers and brandy toddy. Henry talked of Indians and
buffalo; Tete Rouge of theaters and oyster cellars. Henry had led a life
of hardship and privation; Tete Rouge never had a whim which he would
not gratify at the first moment he was able. Henry moreover was the most
disinterested man I ever saw; while Tete Rouge, though equally
good-natured in his way, cared for nobody but himself. Yet we would not
have lost him on any account; he admirably served the purpose of a
jester in a feudal castle; our camp would have been lifeless without
him. For the past week he had fattened in a most amazing manner; and
indeed this was not at all surprising, since his appetite was most
inordinate. He was eating from morning till night; half the time he
would be at work cooking some private repast for himself, and he paid a
visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times a day. His rueful and
disconsolate face became jovial and rubicund, his eyes stood out like a
lobster's, and his spirits, which before were sunk to the depths of
despondency, were now elated in proportion; all day he was singing,
whistling, laughing, and telling stories. As he had a considerable fund
of humor, his anecdotes were extremely amusing, especially since he
never hesitated to place himself in a ludicrous point of view, provided
he could raise a laugh by doing so.

Tete Rouge, however, was sometimes