﻿A RESIDENCE AMONG THE INDIANS. 335 



better be packing 1 up your traps, for there 's a big smoke coming up 

 the creek." 



Just at that instant I heard the booming of cannon across the 

 water, and upon running to the banks of the river, I soon learned 

 the cause of my friend's remark. A steamboat was in sight, plough- 

 ing her way up the stream, her steam-pipe roaring, and her guns 

 announcing her arrival, as if they bid us prepare for news from 

 home. She drew nearer and nearer, until among the crowd of 

 adventurers upon the deck I plainly distinguished the countenance 

 of my old friend, the Captain. 



" There," said Jollie, " you see your time has come. You must 

 prepare for your journey to the home of the pale faces. Go, but do 

 not forget that you leave stout-hearted brothers behind." " You are 

 not certain that I am to return in this boat," I replied. " It may be 

 otherwise. At any rate, I shall not for several weeks." I comforted 

 him against hope, for I knew that I must return with the boat, 

 whenever it went. 



In the mean time the men at the fort were busy in preparing the 

 boat for her departure. Bales of goods were trundled out of her 

 hold, carried up the bank, and safely deposited in the fort; and 

 heavy bundles of buffalo and other skins taken on board, and stowed 

 away. The Indians, e,ver on the alert, when anything new or curi- 

 ous is going on, were standing idly about, ready to pick up and carry 

 off any little trinket which might come in their way. Though 

 I was preparing to go off with the boat, and leave them forever, 

 not the slightest notice was taken of the fact by my Indian friends. 

 I have often wondered why the Indians should, as a general thing, 

 care so little about absent or departing friends. Among white 

 people, it is an especial time for shaking hands, bidding fare- 

 well, and often, very often, the silent tear will course down the 

 cheek at the parting of relatives, or old companions. Not so among 

 the savages. They look upon the matter with the most careless 

 indifference. Perhaps it is because they are separated so often, that 

 it becomes a second nature to them. Yet it would seem that some 

 generous words would be given to an old friend at parting, some ex- 

 pression of hope for his future happiness. It ought to be so. 



One morning, all preparations for our departure being completed 



