l Kearny's army. The canine uproar is, if possible, more
discordant than that of the wolves. Heard at a distance, slowly rising
on the night, it has a strange unearthly effect, and would fearfully
haunt the dreams of a nervous man; but when you are sleeping in the
midst of it the din is outrageous. One long loud howl from the next
lodge perhaps begins it, and voice after voice takes up the sound till
it passes around the whole circumference of the village, and the air is
filled with confused and discordant cries, at once fierce and mournful.
It lasts but for a moment and then dies away into silence.

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, rode out with the
hunters. It may not be amiss to glance at him for an instant in his
domestic character of husband and father. Both he and his squaw, like
most other Indians, were very fond of their children, whom they indulged
to excess, and never punished, except in extreme cases when they
would throw a bowl of cold water over them. Their offspring became
sufficiently undutiful and disobedient under this system of education,
which tends not a little to foster that wild idea of liberty and utter
intolerance of restraint which lie at the very foundation of the Indian
character. It would be hard to find a fonder father than Kongra-Tonga.
There was one urchin in particular, rather less than two feet high, to
whom he was exceedingly attached; and sometimes spreading a buffalo robe
in the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, place his small favorite
upright before him, and chant in a low tone some of the words used as an
accompaniment to the war dance. The little fellow, who could just manage
to balance himself by stretching out both arms, would lift his feet and
turn slowly round and round in time to his father's music, while my host
would laugh with delight, and look smiling up into my face to see if
I were admiring this precocious performance of his offspring. In his
capacity of husband he was somewhat less exemplary. The squaw who lived
in the lodge with him had been his partner for many years. She took
good care of his children and his household concerns. He liked her well
enough, and as far as I could see they never quarreled; but all his
warmer affections were reserved for younger and more recent favorites.
Of these he had at present only one, who lived in a lodge apart from his
own. One day while in his camp he became displeased with her, pushed her
out, threw after h