it between eating and sleeping, and sitting in the sun on the outside of a lodge.  Here he would remain for hour after hour, arrayed in all his finery, with an old dragoon’s sword in his hand, and evidently flattering himself that he was the center of attraction to the eyes of the surrounding squaws.  Yet he sat looking straight forward with a face of the utmost gravity, as if wrapped in profound meditation, and it was only by the occasional sidelong glances which he shot at his supposed admirers that one could detect the true course of his thoughts.

Both he and his brother may represent a class in the Indian community; neither should the Hail-Storm’s friend, the Rabbit, be passed by without notice.  The Hail-Storm and he were inseparable; they ate, slept, and hunted together, and shared with one another almost all that they possessed.  If there be anything that deserves to be called romantic in the Indian character, it is to be sought for in friendships such as this, which are quite common among many of the prairie tribes.

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged away.  I lay in Reynal’s lodge, overcome by the listless torpor that pervaded the whole encampment.  The day’s work was finished, or if it were not, the inhabitants had resolved not to finish it at all, and all were dozing quietly within the shelter of the lodges.  A profound lethargy, the very spirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon the village.  Now and then I could hear the low laughter of some girl from within a neighboring lodge, or the small shrill voices of a few restless children, who alone were moving in the deserted area.  The spirit of the place infected me; I could not even think consecutively; I was fit only for musing and reverie, when at last, like the rest, I fell asleep.

When evening came and the fires were lighted round the lodges, a select family circle convened in the neighborhood of Reynal’s domicile.  It was composed entirely of his squaw’s relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among whom none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of future distinction.  Even his protests were rendered not a little dubious by the character of the family, less however from any principle of aristocratic distinction than from the want of powerful supporters to assist him in his undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels.  Raymond and I sat down along with them.  There were eight or ten men gathered around the fire, together with about as many women, old and young, some of whom were tolerably good-looking.  As the pipe passed round among the men, a lively conversation went forward, more merry than delicate, and at length two or three of the elder women (for the girls were somewhat diffident and bashful) began to assail Raymond with various pungent witticisms.  Some of the men took part and an old squaw concluded by bestowing on him a ludicrous nick name, at which a general laugh followed at his expense.  Raymond grinned and giggled, and made several futile attempts at repartee.  Knowing the impolicy and even danger of suffering myself to be placed in a ludicrous light among the Indians, I maintained a rigid inflexible countenance, and wholly escaped their sallies.