IN THE MARSH. 137 



one of the most celebrated Indian warriors that ever 

 lived, with fiery eloquence and impassioned speech, be- 

 sought his tribe to fight, and die, in the land of their 

 fathers, rather than give up this sacred territory to the 

 invading and encroaching whites. It was through this 

 valley that he and his horde of savages marched time 

 and again on the war path. It was on those hill-tops 

 that beacon fires were lighted at times, signals and re- 

 ports to their neighbors, the lowas, across the river. 

 You didn't know there was quite so much of history 

 and romance connected with those hills, did you ? Those 

 mounds you notice on the hills, looking like hay-cocks, 

 only so much larger, were made by the Mound-builders, 

 a race of Indians in ages past. The mounds have been 

 disemboweled of late years, and their contents were 

 found to be stone arrows, spears, knives, hammers, and 

 implcinents of ancient warfare. These mounds were 

 the graves of warriors buried generations ago, and 

 their arms were deposited at their sides, — ^weapons to 

 protect them from Evil spirits on their journey to the 

 Happy Hunting Grounds, showing conclusively that 

 those hills were occupied by aborigines ages ago. 



Well, from the amount you have eaten, no danger of 

 starvation on your part for some time. It is now one 

 o'clock, and as the flight is good to-day, we won't hurry 

 back to the decoys. Light your cigar. What ! Got 

 a briar-wood pipe ? Now that's sensible. No place for 

 style in the marsh, — comfort and convenience are what 

 we want here. You think it is well to rest during mid- 

 day, because there is no flight? That's where you are 

 grossly wrong. From early infancy it has been dinged 

 at .me, instilled into my mind, that the time to shoot 

 ducks was early morning and from about sun-down to. 



