ber 17th, we woke up in the first field
works of the Rocky Mountains.

It was a day on which we were to see one of the most picturesque
ceremonies of the tour, and slipping through the high scarps of the
mountains to the little valley in which Banff station stands, we were
into that experience of colour at once.

Drawn up in the open by the little station was a line of Indians, clad
in their historic costumes, and mounted on the small, springy horses of
Canada. Some were in feathers and buckskin and beads, some in the high
felt hats and bright-shirts of the cowboy, all were romantic in
bearing. They were there to form the escort of the new "Chief."

As the Prince's car drove from the station along a road that wound its
way amid glades of spruce and poplar glowing with the old gold of
Autumn that filled the valleys winding about the feet of high and
austere mountains, other bodies of Stoney Indians joined the escort
about the car.

They had gathered at the opening of every side lane, and as the
cavalcade passed, dropped in behind, until the procession became a
snake of shifting colour, vermilion and cherry, yellow and blue and
green, going forward under the dappling of sun that slipped between the
swinging branches.

Chiefs, the sunray of eagles' feathers on their heads, braves in full
war-paint, Indian cowboys in shirts of all the colours of the spectrum,
and squaws a mass of beads and sequins, with bright shawls and brighter
silk head-wraps, made up the escort. Behind and at times in front of
many of the squaws were papooses, some riding astraddle, their arms
round the women's waists, others slung in shawls, but all clad in
Indian garb that seemed to be made up of a mass of closely-sewn beads,
turquoise, green, white or red, so that the little bodies were like
scaly and glittering lizards.

This ride that wound in and out of these very beautiful mountain
valleys took the Prince past the enclosures of the National Park, and
he saw under the trees the big, hairy-necked bison, the elk and
mountain goats that are harboured in this great natural reserve.

On the racecourse were Indian tepees, banded, painted with the heads of
bulls, and bright with flags. The braves who were waiting for the
Prince, and those who were escorting him, danced, their ponies whirling
about, racing through veils of dust and fluttering feathers and
kerchiefs in a sort of ride of welcome. From over by the tepees there
came the low thro