38 NARRATIVE OF A JOURNEY — 



possession, but as we cannot prove it upon them, and cannot 

 even converse with them, (having no interpreters,) we are com- 

 pelled to submit to our loss in silence. Perhaps we should even 

 be thankful that we have not lost more. 



While these people were smoking the pipe of peace with us, 

 after breakfast, I observed that Richardson, our chief hunter, (an 

 experienced man in this country, of a tall and iron frame, and 

 almost child-like simplicity of character, in fact an exact coun- 

 terpart of Hawk-eye in his younger days,) stood aloof, and re- 

 fused to sit in the circle, in which it was always the custom of the 

 old hands to join- 

 Feeling some curiosity to ascertain the cause of this unusual 

 diffidence, I occasionally allowed my eyes to wander to the spot 

 where our sturdy hunter stood looking moodily upon us, as the 

 calamet passed from hand to hand around the circle, and I 

 thought I perceived him now and then cast a furtive glance at 

 one of the Indians who sat opposite to me, and sometimes his 

 countenance would assume an expression almost demoniacal, as 

 though the most fierce and deadly passions were raging in his 

 bosom. I felt certain that hereby hung a tale, and I watched for 

 a corresponding expression, or at least a look of consciousness, 

 in the face of my opposite neighbor, but expression there was 

 none. His large features were settled in a tranquillity which no- 

 thing could disturb, and as he puffed the smoke in huge volumes 

 from his mouth, and the fragrant vapor wreathed and curled 

 around his head, he seemed the embodied spirit of meekness and 

 taciturnity. 



The camp moved soon after, and I lost no time in overhaul- 

 ing Richardson, and asking an explanation of his singular con- 

 duct. 



" Why," said he, " that Jnjen that sat opposite to you, is my 

 bitterest enemy. I was once going down alone from the rendez- 

 vous with letters for St. Louis, and when I arrived on the lower 



