ormance was to dress him in an Indian shirt ornamented with
feathers and beads and bits of porcupine quill. They put leggins on his
legs and moccasins on his feet, and, seating him upon a bear-skin, gave
him flint and steel to strike a light with; then a pouch, a tomahawk,
some tobacco, and a long pipe. Then the chiefs seated themselves beside
him, and smoked in silence. Tom knew well enough that he was expected to
smoke too, and filled and lit his pipe accordingly, never dreaming of
the consequences. Old as he was, nearly twenty, this was his "first
smoke," and very soon the poor fellow found himself growing deadly sick.
He could feel the cold chills creeping one after another into his very
face. Finally, something within him seemed to turn somersaults, when,
yielding to a sudden impulse, he flung the pipe upon the ground, and
rushed into the recesses of the wigwam, where he usually slept. This
the Indians, who attach an almost sacred importance to the pipe, took as
a great affront; and only when Tom afterward, by the most earnest
gestures, explained to them the real cause of his conduct, did they
allow their injured feelings to be pacified; though it cut him sorely to
notice the expressions of contempt, and ridicule that were soon lavished
upon him. Whether this proof of what seemed in Indian opinion a want of
manliness had anything to do with their conduct or not, I cannot say,
but certain it is that no further ceremonies towards making him a
red-man were performed though he was allowed to wear his Indian costume.
Neither did they allow him to hunt with them, as he had hoped. Whenever
they went forth to shoot the bison or deer, or to trap the beavers, or
wage war with hostile tribes, they always left him with the squaws, the
old men, and the warriors who remained at home to take charge of the
settlement.

Rudolph and Kitty were sorely frightened when they first saw the strange
figure, "half Indian, half Tom," as Rudolph afterward described him,
stalk into Ka-te-qua's wigwam. His bald head and painted body struck
poor Kitty with dismay. When he spoke soothingly to her, and gave her a
handful of bright feathers, she ventured to approach him, though she
cried pitifully all the time for Tom, dear, big Tom, who knew papa and
mamma, and Bessie and Bouncer.

Neither Kitty nor Rudolph had forgotten the brave dog through all these
days of absence, and they loved to hold long conversations with Tom
about him; though the littl