SHEEP-HUNTING 163 



shook hands, and sat down and smoked with us. 

 There was one old fellow who spoke a few words 

 of English and acted as interpreter ; he was 

 evidently the comic man of the party, and quite 

 a character in his way. He was a queer, wizened, 

 dried-up looking specimen of humanity, clothed in 

 multitudinous rags of ancient flannel shirt, tattered 

 blanket, and dilapidated deerskin leggings. He 

 rode a pony as ancient, as lean, and as ragged as 

 himself, and he had a lot of old rusty beaver-traps, 

 and pots, and pans, and kettles, and in fact appa- 

 rently all his household goods distributed over 

 the persons of himself and his steed, and rattling, 

 clanging, and jingling whenever he moved. He 

 made frequent remarks in Indian — jokes, I pre- 

 sume, or remarks on our personal appearance, for 

 they were received with shouts of laughter — and 

 he was equally voluble in English, though his 

 knowledge of that language was apparently limited, 

 for he kept on informing us that " heap of Sioux 

 coming, heap wagon, white men with them." 

 They all professed great friendship, but they were 

 so very saucy and bumptious, and tried so perti- 

 naciously to steal everything that they could lay 

 their hands on, that we concluded to clear out as 

 speedily as possible, and accordingly we struck 



