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the host gave the hand of friendship to the whites present, and made a 

 short speech, thankmg us for our company, and making some inquiries 

 concerning them ; to these M'Kenzie replied, and then the master of 

 ceremonies began to help the food, each one having provided his own dish. 

 The mess, consisting of two dogs, of reverend age and valuable services, 

 judging from appearances, had been boiled in a large copper kettle and was 

 served out in very generous shares, beginning with us, and going around to 

 complete the circle. I noticed that the man who sat at Gilpin's right was 

 not served, nor had he a pan — this seemed very strange, as he was the one 

 who had made the speech to us, and appeared to be a prominent personage. 

 On inquiring the reason, I was told that he was the host. " The host," 

 said I, " and don't he eat ?" " No, etiquette requires that he shall not 

 partake at all of the feast." Nor did he serve it out, but simply sat as a 

 mere looker on. A rib was given each of us, and having tasted it, the cus- 

 tom of carrying away what we could not eat, was a relief to us, and we left, 

 carrying with us our ribs. There was a good deal of conversation, during 

 which one of the old men spoke of their custom of eating dogs, and said 

 that they regarded dogs as we do cattle. And it is partly true ; they are of 

 great service to them, being much used as pack animals, so that a dog feast 

 is really an expensive one and a great compliment. But I was surprised to 

 learn that this custom does not extend to the mountain Indians, who eat 

 them only when starving. Hodgekiss tells me that a fat pup, well boiled, 

 and the water changed several times, and then allowed to cool, is a delicious 

 dish, and has no dog taste about it. 



Before one of the lodges near where the feast was held, was the body of 

 a little girl who had died yesterday ; it was wrapped in a blue blanket, and 

 was to be placed on the scaffold as soon as the coffin should be finished. I 

 did not see the ceremony of conveying it to the tomb, or rather, to its rest- 

 ing place, but it was probaaly done in a very simple manner, as I was told 

 that the burying of the dead, except braves, is left principally to the 

 squaws. Blankets and food are placed on the scaffold for their use in the 

 other world ; the family of the deceased mourn very much, and if others aid 

 them in this sad work, they expect pay and are sure to get it. 



Wednesday, June 5. — This afternoon I am on the Missouri, above Fort 

 Pierre, and again at leisure to write as usual. On Monday evening it rained 

 very heavily, and in the midst of this pouring down, an Indian arrived and 

 stated that the steamboat was but a few miles down the river ; this an- 

 nouncement electrified the whole establishment, and there were various 

 opinions as to the hour she might be expected. At length we all settled 

 down in the belief that she certainly could not come that night, but that 

 morning would bring her. About this time Gilpin brought me a prairie dog 

 an Indian had killed with a stick ; the skin was not injured in the least, 

 and the hair was in excellent order, the old coat having been shed so recently. 

 I determined to take both skeleton and skin, as the specimens are so rare. 

 An Indian who happened to be in the room soon took off the skin, and I 

 began to cut the meat form the bones, but it turned out to be a long job. 

 At length the bones were cleaned in tolerably good order, and after various 

 efforts the skin has at length been stuffed so as to make a fine specimen. 

 I may think myself fortunate in having thus secured a prairie dog ; I 

 am told that Audubon failed in getting one, and Dr. Evans told me that 

 he had not secured a specimen last summer, as the skins of three he had 

 taken spoiled. 



