was slung at his back, and a shield of hides, quaintly
emblazoned with another of his warlike deeds, was suspended from his
neck by a thong of sinews.

As the trapper approached, this warrior maintained his calm upright
attitude, discovering neither an eagerness to ascertain the character of
those who advanced upon him, nor the smallest wish to avoid a scrutiny
in his own person. An eye, that was darker and more shining than that of
the stag, was incessantly glancing, however, from one to another of the
stranger party, seemingly never knowing rest for an instant.

"Is my brother far from his village?" demanded the old man, in the
Pawnee language, after examining the paint, and those other little signs
by which a practised eye knows the tribe of the warrior he encounters in
the American deserts, with the same readiness, and by the same sort of
mysterious observation, as that by which the seaman knows the distant
sail.

"It is farther to the towns of the Big-knives," was the laconic reply.

"Why is a Pawnee-Loup so far from the fork of his own river, without a
horse to journey on, and in a spot empty as this?"

"Can the women and children of a Pale-face live without the meat of the
bison? There was hunger in my lodge."

"My brother is very young to be already the master of a lodge," returned
the trapper, looking steadily into the unmoved countenance of the
youthful warrior; "but I dare say he is brave, and that many a chief has
offered him his daughters for wives. But he has been mistaken," pointing
to the arrow, which was dangling from the hand that held the bow, "in
bringing a loose and barbed arrow-head to kill the buffaloe. Do the
Pawnees wish the wounds they give their game to rankle?"

"It is good to be ready for the Sioux. Though not in sight, a bush may
hide him."

"The man is a living proof of the truth of his words," muttered the
trapper in English, "and a close-jointed and gallant looking lad he is;
but far too young for a chief of any importance. It is wise, however, to
speak him fair, for a single arm thrown into either party, if we come
to blows with the squatter and his brood, may turn the day. You see
my children are weary," he continued in the dialect of the prairies,
pointing, as he spoke, to the rest of the party, who, by this time, were
also approaching. "We wish to camp and eat. Does my brother claim this
spot?"

"The runners from the people on the Big-river, tell us that your nation
have t