y of mind such as is rarely found, even in women. His manly face
was a perfect mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of heart;
he had, moreover, a keen perception of character and a tact that would
preserve him from flagrant error in any society. Henry had not the
restless energy of an Anglo-American. He was content to take things
as he found them; and his chief fault arose from an excess of easy
generosity, impelling him to give away too profusely ever to thrive in
the world. Yet it was commonly remarked of him, that whatever he might
choose to do with what belonged to himself, the property of others was
always safe in his hands. His bravery was as much celebrated in the
mountains as his skill in hunting; but it is characteristic of him that
in a country where the rifle is the chief arbiter between man and man,
Henry was very seldom involved in quarrels. Once or twice, indeed,
his quiet good-nature had been mistaken and presumed upon, but the
consequences of the error were so formidable that no one was ever known
to repeat it. No better evidence of the intrepidity of his temper could
be wished than the common report that he had killed more than thirty
grizzly bears. He was a proof of what unaided nature will sometimes do.
I have never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man than my
noble and true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon.

We were soon free of the woods and bushes, and fairly upon the broad
prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe passed us, riding his little shaggy
pony at a "lope"; his calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay
handkerchief bound around his snaky hair fluttering in the wind. At noon
we stopped to rest not far from a little creek replete with frogs and
young turtles. There had been an Indian encampment at the place, and
the framework of their lodges still remained, enabling us very easily
to gain a shelter from the sun, by merely spreading one or two blankets
over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our saddles, and Shaw for the first
time lighted his favorite Indian pipe; while Delorier was squatted over
a hot bed of coals, shading his eyes with one hand, and holding a little
stick in the other, with which he regulated the hissing contents of the
frying-pan. The horses were turned to feed among the scattered bushes of
a low oozy meadow. A drowzy springlike sultriness pervaded the air, and
the voices of ten thousand young frogs and insects, just awakened into
life, rose in varied chorus