arribault, Mud Lake, the Four
Lakes, Kosh-ko-nong, and Turtle Creek. Messengers were dispatched, at or
before the arrival of the annuity-money, to all the different villages,
to notify the heads of families or lodges to assemble at "the Portage."

When arrived, the masters of families, under their different chiefs,
give in their names, and the number in their lodges, to be registered.
As, in paying, a certain sum of money is apportioned to each individual,
it is, of course, an object to the head of a lodge to make the number
registered as great as possible. Each one brings his little bundle of
sticks, and presents it to the Agent to register. Sometimes a dialogue
like the following occurs:

"How many have you in your lodge?"

The Indian carefully, and with great ceremony, counts his bundle of
sticks--"Fifteen"

"How many men?"

"Two." The Agent lays aside two sticks

"How many women?"

"Three." Three more sticks are separated.

"How many children?"

"Eight" Eight sticks are added to the heap.

"What is the meaning of these two sticks that remain?"

The culprit, whose arithmetic has not served him to carry out his
deception, disappears amid the shouts and jeers of his companions, who
are always well pleased at the detection of any roguery in which they
have had no share.

The young officers generally assisted in counting out and delivering the
money at these payments, and it was no unusual thing, as the last band
came up, for the chiefs to take a quantity of silver out of the box and
request their Father to pay his friends for their trouble, seeming
really disturbed at his refusal. In this, as in almost every instance,
we see the native courtesy and politeness, which are never lost sight of
among them. If a party comes to their Father to beg for provisions, and
food is offered them, however hungry they may be, each waits patiently
until one of the company makes an equal distribution of the whole, and
then, taking his share, eats it quietly, with the greatest moderation. I
never saw this rule violated, save in one instance.

Our friend, Pawnee Blanc, _the Old Dandy_, once came with a party of
Indians, requesting permission to dance for us in the open space before
the door. It was a warm, dusty afternoon, and as our friends grew heated
and fatigued with the violent and long-continued exercise, a pitcher of
raspberry negus was prepared and sent out to them. Pawnee received the
pitcher and tumbler, and, pour