We paused long to admire, and then spurred on, skirting the head of the
lake, and were soon ascending the broad platform on which stood the
village of Maunk-suck, or Big-foot.

The inhabitants, who had witnessed our approach from a distance, were
all assembled in front of their wigwams to greet us, if friends--if
otherwise, whatever the occasion should demand. It was the first time
such a spectacle had ever presented itself to their wondering eyes.
Their salutations were not less cordial than we expected.
"Shaw-nee-aw-kee" and his mother, who was known throughout the tribe by
the touching appellation "Our friend's wife," were welcomed most kindly,
and an animated conversation commenced, which I could understand only so
far as it was conveyed by gestures; so I amused myself by taking a
minute survey of all that met my view.

The chief was a large, raw-boned, ugly Indian, with a countenance
bloated by intemperance, and with a sinister, unpleasant expression. He
had a gay-colored handkerchief upon his head, and was otherwise attired
in his best, in compliment to the strangers.

It was to this chief that Chambly, or, as he is now called,
Shaw-bee-nay, Billy Caldwell, and Robinson were dispatched, by Dr.
Wolcott, their Agent, during the Winnebago war, in 1821, to use their
earnest endeavors to prevent this chief and his band from joining the
hostile Indians. With some difficulty they succeeded, and were thus the
means, doubtless, of saving the lives of all the settlers who lived
exposed upon the frontier.

Among the various groups of his people, there was none attracted my
attention so forcibly as a young man of handsome face, and a figure that
was striking even where all were fine and symmetrical. He too had a gay
handkerchief on his head, a shirt of the brightest lemon-colored calico,
an abundance of silver ornaments, and, what gave his dress a most
fanciful appearance, one legging of blue and the other of bright
scarlet. I was not ignorant that this peculiar feature in his toilet
indicated a heart suffering from the tender passion. The flute, which
he carried in his hand, added confirmation to the fact, while the
joyous, animated expression of his countenance showed with equal
plainness that he was not a despairing lover.

I could have imagined him to have recently returned from the chase,
laden with booty, with which he had, as is the custom, entered the lodge
of the fair one, and thrown his burden at the feet of