“Dat is fat vill do ver’ veil,” said Henri; “vill you please donnez me one petit morsel of steak?”
“I’m ready for anything, Joe,” cried Dick; “you are leader. Just point the way, and I’ll answer for two o’ us followin’ ye—eh! won’t we, Crusoe?”
“We will,” remarked the dog quietly.
“How comes it,” inquired Dick, “that these Indians don’t care for our tobacco?”
“They like their own better, I s’pose,” answered Joe; “most all the western Injuns do. They make it o’ the dried leaves o’ the shumack and the inner bark o’ the red willow, chopped very small and mixed together. They call this stuff kinnekinnih; but they like to mix about a fourth o’ our tobacco with it, so Pee-eye-em tells me. The amount that red-skin smokes is oncommon.”
“What are they doin’ yonder?” inquired Dick, pointing to a group of men who had been feasting for some time past in front of a tent within sight of our trio.
“Goin’ to sing, I think,” replied Joe.
As he spoke six young warriors were seen to work their bodies about in a very remarkable way, and give utterance to still more remarkable sounds, which gradually increased until the singers burst out into that terrific yell, or war-whoop, for which American savages have long been famous. Its effect would have been appalling to unaccustomed ears. Then they allowed their voices to die away in soft, plaintive tones, while their action corresponded thereto. Suddenly the furious style was revived, and the men wrought themselves into a condition little short of madness, while their yells rang wildly. This was too much for canine nature to withstand, so all the dogs in the neighbourhood joined in the chorus.
Crusoe had long since learned to treat the eccentricities of Indians and their curs with dignified contempt. He paid no attention to this serenade, but lay sleeping by the fire until Dick and his companions rose to take leave of their host and return to the camp of the fur-traders. The remainder of that night was spent in making preparations for setting forth on the morrow; and when Dick and Crusoe lay down to snatch an hour's repose, the yells in the Snake camp were going on as vigorously as ever.
The sun had arisen, and his beams were just tipping the summits of the Rocky Mountains, causing the snowy peaks to glitter like flame, and the deep ravines and
