prairie to a place some ten miles further up the country, called Redwood, and lying on the direct road to the Upper Agency, to which we intended to continue our journey on the morrow. It was a settlement of but a single “frame” cottage, occupied by a man and his wife, who had come there as schoolmaster and mistress to teach, so far as they could, the children of the Indians who lived around them. It was a little after sunset when we reached the house, and as night was fast gathering, we at once strolled forth to a knoll, but a few yards off, on the opposite side of the road, to examine what we had just passed, a Sioux burying-place. Four rude stems, about eight feet each in height and forked at the top, are planted in the ground, so as to form the corners of a small square, while a couple of wooden cross-bars laid in the forks of two opposite sides, form a rest, on which is placed the rude coffin that contains the dead, wrapped with a piece of red cloth or a blanket. Here it remains exposed for, perhaps, a couple of years, at the end of which time it is taken down, and buried.
On returning to the cottage, we made acquaintance with our landlord and landlady. The landlord was a heavily-built man of middle height, and about fifty years old. Black eyes, deeply set, and half-hidden beneath a pair of shaggy black brows, and a chin that had not for some days come in contact with a razor, combined with the mass of long, black, uncombed hair that thatched his head, to give him an appearance that was not, to say the least, prepossessing. Notwithstanding, and with the assistance of his wife (a tall, thin, middle-aged Yankee woman of sharp features, but withal a pleasant expression), he did what he could to make us comfortable, so far as the limited resources of the establishment would permit, but they were limited. On being shown to the room in which we were to sleep, we found ourselves in a good-sized garret, with much the appearance of a loft, one end of which was crowded with lumber, while on each side of the room at the other end was a double bed made up on the floor. Our host pointed out one of these as ours, the other, he added, was for himself and his man. With a sheet and a pillow I made a separate bed for myself, much to the surprise of the schoolmaster, and should have slept comfortably enough, if we had not, unfortunately, for the sake of cooling with a breath of fresh air the sultry atmosphere of the room, left the window open. So, of course, we awoke simultaneously, all four of us, in the middle of the night, each to find the other three using strong language towards the mosquitoes, which were persecuting us unmercifully.
After breakfast next morning, we accepted the services of a good-humoured, middle-aged Indian, which were willingly given for half a dollar, and, under his guidance, made our way to some falls a few miles off, in the woods. “Sholto,” our guide, was a sort of pensioner on the hospitality of the schoolmaster, and was in the habit of making frequent visits to the cottage for the sake of what he might pick up in the way of a meal. He was, technically speaking, civilised, but apparently thought it permissible, in the seclusion of his country life, to lay aside for the while the pomps and vanities of civilisation, and to adopt a dress severe in its simplicity—a printed calico shirt and the dirtiest of blankets. He appeared even to disregard what might be deemed the decencies of savage life, in discarding the use of leggings and moccasins, and his legs and feet suffered not a little in our walk from the nettles in consequence. His blanket he threw off after a while, and carried on his arm. The falls to which he led us, though small, were wild and beautiful, and a couple of Indians chopping wood on the bank of the stream added to the picturesque character of the spot. We refreshed ourselves with a swim in a cool deep pool above the falls, and then returned.
After a dinner of salt pork, which was almost the only kind of meat we fell in with in these parts, we resumed our journey to Yellow Medicine, where the Upper Agency is situated, twenty-five miles away. I should rather say “The Agency,” without qualification, for what is called the Lower Agency, though containing a somewhat larger white population, is, strictly speaking, but a branch of the Upper. It is at the Upper Agency that the agent’s house is placed. The place takes its name of “Yellow Medicine” from some medicinal root or herb which the Indians find there.
The Agency itself is on high ground, while a few traders’ huts and some other dwellings lie in a snug little valley below. We managed to get a rough accommodation in a small house in the valley, our lodging being of much the same character as that of the previous night, except that we had our loft to ourselves.
Next morning we walked out to the Indians’ quarters, some three miles away on the prairie. Huts of any kind there were few to be seen, but encamped here was a population of perhaps a thousand, and tents were numerous—one here, two there, a dozen grouped yonder—the plains were spotted with them. The people assembled under them, though all Sioux, were of various tribes, for the Sioux Indians are rather a race than a tribe, comprising divisions whose only bond is a common language, and which own no nearer connection with each other than, for example, we ourselves do with the Americans. Nor does even the whole of each tribe yield allegiance to a common chief. A tribe consists of separate bands, each of which is governed by its own head, and the man who wields most influence in a tribe is simply the ablest chief of a powerful band.
We entered many of the tents, and made acquaintance with their inmates. We found them altogether a wilder set of people than their brethren at the other Agency, not a family in the whole encampment having any permanent residence in the place, but they received us with the same frank good humour. Sometimes, as we were passing a tent, a shout from within would invite us to enter, but, invited or not, we were always made welcome. The tents consist of a covering, sometimes of buffalo hide, but more often of canvass, thrown round a conical framework of