s followed The Whirlwind's village and
attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. Shaw, not having
the same motive for hunting Indians that I had, was averse to the
plan; I therefore resolved to go alone. This design I adopted very
unwillingly, for I knew that in the present state of my health the
attempt would be extremely unpleasant, and, as I considered, hazardous.
I hoped that Bisonette would appear in the course of the following day,
and bring us some information by which to direct our course, and enable
me to accomplish my purpose by means less objectionable.

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the subsistence of the
party in my absence; so I called Raymond, and ordered him to prepare to
set out with me. Raymond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length,
having succeeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his bed
under the cart. He was a heavy-molded fellow, with a broad face exactly
like an owl's, expressing the most impenetrable stupidity and entire
self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had a sort of stubborn
fidelity, an insensibility to danger, and a kind of instinct or
sagacity, which sometimes led him right, where better heads than his
were at a loss. Besides this, he knew very well how to handle a rifle
and picket a horse.

Through the following day the sun glared down upon us with a pitiless,
penetrating heat. The distant blue prairie seemed quivering under it.
The lodge of our Indian associates was baking in the rays, and our
rifles, as they leaned against the tree, were too hot for the touch.
There was a dead silence through our camp and all around it, unbroken
except by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The men, resting their
foreheads on their arms, were sleeping under the cart. The Indians kept
close within their lodge except the newly married pair, who were seated
together under an awning of buffalo robes, and the old conjurer, who,
with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt ribs, was perched aloft like a
turkey-buzzard among the dead branches of an old tree, constantly on the
lookout for enemies. He would have made a capital shot. A rifle bullet,
skillfully planted, would have brought him tumbling to the ground.
Surely, I thought, there could be no more harm in shooting such a
hideous old villain, to see how ugly he would look when he was dead,
than in shooting the detestable vulture which he resembled. We dined,
and then Shaw saddled his horse.

"I will rid