marked change in
his character. As I first remembered him he always shunned the society
of the young squaws, and was extremely bashful and sheepish in their
presence; but now, in the confidence of his own reputation, he began
to assume the airs and the arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his red
blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his cheeks every day
with vermilion, and hung pendants of shells in his ears. If I observed
aright, he met with very good success in his new pursuits; still the
Hail-Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the full standing
of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear himself among the women and
girls, he still was timid and abashed in the presence of the chiefs and
old men; for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead body of
an enemy in battle. I have no doubt that the handsome smooth-faced boy
burned with keen desire to flash his maiden scalping-knife, and I would
not have encamped alone with him without watching his movements with a
distrustful eye.

His elder brother, the Horse, was of a different character. He was
nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew very well how to hunt, but preferred
to live by the hunting of others. He had no appetite for distinction,
and the Hail-Storm, though a few years younger than he, already
surpassed him in reputation. He had a dark and ugly face, and he
passed a great part of his time in adorning it with vermilion, and
contemplating it by means of a little pocket looking-glass which I
gave him. As for the rest of the day, he divided 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 In