derfully strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and did
the hardest labor of the camp. From morning till night she bustled about
the lodge, screaming like a screech-owl when anything displeased her.
Then there was her brother, a "medicine-man," or magician, equally
gaunt and sinewy with herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his
appetite, as we had full occasion to learn, was ravenous in proportion.
The other inmates of the lodge were a young bride and bridegroom; the
latter one of those idle, good-for nothing fellows who infest an Indian
village as well as more civilized communities. He was fit neither
for hunting nor for war; and one might infer as much from the stolid
unmeaning expression of his face. The happy pair had just entered upon
the honeymoon. They would stretch a buffalo robe upon poles, so as to
protect them from the fierce rays of the sun, and spreading beneath this
rough canopy a luxuriant couch of furs, would sit affectionately side
by side for half the day, though I could not discover that much
conversation passed between them. Probably they had nothing to say; for
an Indian's supply of topics for conversation is far from being copious.
There were half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping about the
camp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or making miniature
lodges of sticks, as children of a different complexion build houses of
blocks.

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. Parties of two or
three or more would ride up and silently seat themselves on the grass.
The fourth day came at last, when about noon horsemen suddenly appeared
into view on the summit of the neighboring ridge. They descended, and
behind them followed a wild procession, hurrying in haste and disorder
down the hill and over the plain below; horses, mules, and dogs, heavily
burdened travaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking amid the throng, and
a host of children. For a full half-hour they continued to pour down;
and keeping directly to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us,
they soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, as if
by magic, 150 tall lodges sprung up. On a sudden the lonely plain was
transformed into the site of a miniature city. Countless horses were
soon grazing over the meadows around us, and the whole prairie was
animated by restless figures careening on horseback, or sedately
stalking in their long white robes. The Whirlwind was come at last! One