98 IN THE OLD WEST 



such startling innovations on the choreographic 

 art as would make the shade of Gallini quake and 

 gibber in his pumps. 



Passing the open doors and windows of the 

 Mountain House, the stranger stops short as the 

 sounds of violin and banjo twang upon his ears, 

 accompanied by extraordinary noises — sounding 

 unearthly to the greenhorn listener, but recog- 

 nized by the initiated as an Indian song roared out 

 of the stentorian lungs of a mountaineer, who, 

 patting his stomach with open hands to improve 

 the necessary shake, choruses the well-known In- 

 dian chant: — 



Hi — Hi — Hi — Hi 



Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i — Hi-i 

 Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya 



Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya — hi-ya 

 Hi-ya — hi-ya — hi — hi, 

 &c., &c., &c. 



and polishes off the high notes with a whoop which 

 makes the old wooden houses shake again, as it 

 rattles and echoes down the street. 



Here, over fiery " monaghahela," Jean Batiste, 

 the sallow half-breed voyageur from the North 

 — and who, deserting the service of the " North- 

 West " (the Hudson's Bay Company), has come 

 down the Mississippi, from the " Falls," to try 

 the sweets and liberty of *' free " trapping — hob- 

 nobs with a stalwart leather-clad " boy," just re- 



