a suddenly interrupted it
with a loud voice:

"Now is a good time," he said, "when all the old men and chiefs are here
together, to decide what the people shall do. We came over the mountain
to make our lodges for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing;
they are rotten and worn out. But we have been disappointed. We have
killed buffalo bulls enough, but we have found no herds of cows, and the
skins of bulls are too thick and heavy for our squaws to make lodges of.
There must be plenty of cows about the Medicine-Bow Mountain. We ought
to go there. To be sure it is farther westward than we have ever been
before, and perhaps the Snakes will attack us, for those hunting-grounds
belong to them. But we must have new lodges at any rate; our old ones
will not serve for another year. We ought not to be afraid of the
Snakes. Our warriors are brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides,
we have three white men with their rifles to help us."

I could not help thinking that the old man relied a little too much on
the aid of allies, one of whom was a coward, another a blockhead, and
the third an invalid. This speech produced a good deal of debate.
As Reynal did not interpret what was said, I could only judge of the
meaning by the features and gestures of the speakers. At the end of it,
however, the greater number seemed to have fallen in with Mene-Seela's
opinion. A short silence followed, and then the old man struck up
a discordant chant, which I was told was a song of thanks for the
entertainment I had given them.

"Now," said he, "let us go and give the white men a chance to breathe."

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and for some time the
old chief was walking round the village, singing his song in praise of
the feast, after the usual custom of the nation.

At last the day drew to a close, and as the sun went down the horses
came trooping from the surrounding plains to be picketed before the
dwellings of their respective masters. Soon within the great circle of
lodges appeared another concentric circle of restless horses; and here
and there fires were glowing and flickering amid the gloom of the dusky
figures around them. I went over and sat by the lodge of Reynal. The
Eagle-Feather, who was a son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the
Big Crow, was seated there already, and I asked him if the village would
move in the morning. He shook his head, and said that nobody could tell,
for since old Mahto