st promising materials to exercise it upon. He set before me,
however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and salt pork. It seemed like a
new phase of existence, to be seated once more on a bench, with a knife
and fork, a plate and teacup, and something resembling a table before
me. The coffee seemed delicious, and the bread was a most welcome
novelty, since for three weeks I had eaten scarcely anything but meat,
and that for the most part without salt. The meal also had the relish of
good company, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. If one
is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value of a congenial companion,
he has only to spend a few weeks by himself in an Ogallalla village. And
if he can contrive to add to his seclusion a debilitating and somewhat
critical illness, his perceptions upon this subject will be rendered
considerably more vivid.

Shaw had been upward of two weeks at the Fort. I found him established
in his old quarters, a large apartment usually occupied by the absent
bourgeois. In one corner was a soft and luxuriant pile of excellent
buffalo robes, and here I lay down. Shaw brought me three books.

"Here," said he, "is your Shakespeare and Byron, and here is the
Old Testament, which has as much poetry in it as the other two put
together."

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part of that day
lay on the buffalo robes, fairly reveling in the creations of that
resplendent genius which has achieved no more signal triumph than that
of half beguiling us to forget the pitiful and unmanly character of its
possessor.

CHAPTER XX

THE LONELY JOURNEY

On the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and I were lounging on
two buffalo robes in the large apartment hospitably assigned to us;
Henry Chatillon also was present, busy about the harness and weapons,
which had been brought into the room, and two or three Indians were
crouching on the floor, eyeing us with their fixed, unwavering gaze.

"I have been well off here," said Shaw, "in all respects but one; there
is no good shongsasha to be had for love or money."

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of excellent quality,
which I had brought from the Black Hills.

"Now, Henry," said he, "hand me Papin's chopping-board, or give it to
that Indian, and let him cut the mixture; they understand it better than
any white man."

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and the tobacco in due
proportions, fil