f curiosity, will turn and walk towards it till shot
down by the marksman.

The prairie-dog is an animal peculiar to the plains. He is found in
what is called a "dog-town;" being a plot of a few acres, as seen
alongside the railroad, after a day and night's ride, dotted over with
mounds a foot or so high. Sometimes a thousand or more congregate in
the town, and their holes are a few rods apart. When approaching these
towns, or the cars pass along, you see them scamper off to the top of
the mound, stand up on their hind-legs and bark, shaking their little
short tails at each bark, and presently plunge head first into their
holes. They are of a brown color, size of a squirrel, but with tails an
inch long. I tried to drown out some, and poured several barrels of
water into a hole without bringing any out. These holes ramify into
others, generally, so it was impossible, in my experience, though
others do get hold of a single hole, and drown them out. Rattlesnakes
and small owls make their homes with them. These are interlopers, as
the prairie-dogs dig the holes down about three to four feet. They can
be tamed, as I know by experience, having carried several east to
Chicago, to my Sunday-school children.

One night in Colorado, on the Cache le Poudre River, while camping out
there (having gone with a detective in search of horse-thieves), I
heard a terrible clatter among the prairie-dogs late in the night. It
was explained to me by the ranchman, who said they were in the habit of
changing their domiciles once a year, and it was only effected after a
great struggle and fight among themselves. By sunrise, four o'clock in
the morning, all was still; and the little fellows were running about
in search of roots, upon which they live all winter, down in their
dark, deep holes. They belong to the species marmot, and are said to be
good eating. I have never tried them. Friday, Arapahoe chief, told me
that the Indians make use of their oil to cure rheumatism.

A NIGHT SCENE.

The Bishop of Nebraska visited the Pawnee reservation, near Columbus,
and the head chief had just before lost his only son by death. He was
feeling very unhappy about it, and he told the interpreter to say to
"The little medicine-man-in-the-big-heap-sleeves," "That he had lost
his son, and was feeling very heavy here" (laying his hand upon his
heart); adding, "All is dark, and I want him to tell me what the Great
Spirit has got to say to me in my sor