ce, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow Indians, ranging
through the country, have thrown the bodies from the scaffolds, and
broken them to pieces amid the yells of the Dakotas, who remained pent
up in the fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult. The
white objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, arranged in the
mystic circle commonly seen at Indian places of sepulture upon the
prairie.

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty or sixty
horses approaching the fort. These were the animals belonging to the
establishment; who having been sent out to feed, under the care of armed
guards, in the meadows below, were now being driven into the corral for
the night. A little gate opened into this inclosure; by the side of it
stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with gray bushy eyebrows,
and a dragoon pistol stuck into his belt; while his comrade, mounted
on horseback, his rifle laid across the saddle in front of him, and
his long hair blowing before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the
disorderly troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the narrow
corral was thronged with the half-wild horses, kicking, biting, and
crowding restlessly together.

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian in the area,
summoned us to supper. This sumptuous repast was served on a rough table
in one of the lower apartments of the fort, and consisted of cakes of
bread and dried buffalo meat--an excellent thing for strengthening the
teeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and superior dignitaries
of the establishment, among whom Henry Chatillon was worthily included.
No sooner was it finished, than the table was spread a second time (the
luxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the benefit of
certain hunters and trappers of an inferior standing; while the ordinary
Canadian ENGAGES were regaled on dried meat in one of their lodging
rooms. By way of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort Laramie, it
may not be amiss to introduce in this place a story current among the
men when we were there.

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was to bring the meat
from the storeroom for the men. Old Pierre, in the kindness of
his heart, used to select the fattest and the best pieces for his
companions. This did not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois, who was
greatly disturbed at such improvidence, and cast about for some means to
stop it. At last he hit on a plan th