of the
mountains. The beat was most intense and penetrating. The coverings
of the lodges were raised a foot or more from the ground, in order to
procure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought proper to lay aside
his trapper's dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty costume of an
Indian. Thus elegantly attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a
buffalo robe, alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe which
he and I passed between us. There was present also a select circle of
Indian friends and relatives. A small boiled puppy was served up as a
parting feast, to which was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl of
gooseberries, from the mountains.

"Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the opening of his lodge; "do
you see that line of buttes about fifteen miles off? Well, now, do you
see that farthest one, with the white speck on the face of it? Do you
think you ever saw it before?"

"It looks to me," said I, "like the hill that we were camped under when
we were on Laramie Creek, six or eight weeks ago."

"You've hit it," answered Reynal.

"Go and bring in the animals, Raymond," said I: "we'll camp there
to-night, and start for the Fort in the morning."

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. We saddled them, and
in the meantime a number of Indians collected about us. The virtues of
Pauline, my strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well known in
camp, and several of the visitors were mounted upon good horses which
they had brought me as presents. I promptly declined their offers, since
accepting them would have involved the necessity of transferring poor
Pauline into their barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal, but not
of the Indians, who are accustomed to dispense with such superfluous
ceremonies. Leaving the camp we rode straight over the prairie toward
the white-faced bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently against the
horizon, like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name I forget,
though the ugliness of his face and the ghastly width of his mouth dwell
vividly in my recollection. The antelope were numerous, but we did not
heed them. We rode directly toward our destination, over the arid plains
and barren hills, until, late in the afternoon, half spent with heat,
thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening sight; the long line of trees
and the deep gulf that mark the course of Laramie Creek. Passing through
the growth of huge dilapidated old cottonwood trees that