110 THE GEORGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY. 



where there were some six or eight men besides the chief, and endeavoring, as the 

 necessary preliminary in all first interviews with Indians, to make the object of my 

 visit distinctly known, I opened the portfolio of cartoon portraits, which all were 

 examining with great interest and astonishment, and on turning up the fifth or sixth 

 portrait, one of the party gave a sudden piercing yelp, and sprang upon his feet and 

 commenced dancing in the most violent jumps and starts, and vociferating, " Bi-eets- 

 e-cure! Bi-eets-e-cure!" (the name of the young man) whose portrait I had painted 

 at the mouth of the Yellowstone twenty years before, and was now holding up. 



The portrait was recognized by all, and on their feet, and darting out of the wig- 

 wam, were three or four of the party, and through the village to where the women 

 were drying fish, on the bank of the river, and back, re-entered the chief's wigwam, 

 and with them, out of breath, and walking as if he was coming to the gallows, en- 

 tered Bi-eets-e-cure (the Very Sweet Man). 



I instantly recognized him, and rising up, he took about half a minute to look me 

 full in the eyes, without moving a muscle or winking, when he exclaimed " how! 

 how!" (yes, yes), and shook me heartily by the hand. I took up his portrait, and 

 showing it to him, got the interpreter to say to him that I had " kept his face clean!' 



The reader can more easily and more correctly imagine the pleasurable excitement, 

 and the curious remarks amongst the party at this singular occurrence, than I can 

 explain them ; for, not knowing their language, I was ignorant of much that passed 

 myself. 



" One thing, I'm sua, Massa Catlin," suddenly exclaimed Caesar, who had not before 

 opened his broad mouth, "I quite sua dat ar man knows you, massa." 



All eyes were now turned for a moment upon Caesar, who was sitting a little back, 

 and evidently looked upon by most of the party as some great chief until the inter- 

 preter explained that he was my servant. 



During this interlude, and which required some little exchange of feelings and 

 recollections'between the l ' very sweet man" and myself, I had shut the portfolio, to 

 begin again where we left on?; and proceeding again with the portraits, after show- 

 ing them several of their enemies, the Sioux and Blackfeet, Ba-da-ahchon-du (the 

 Jumper), one of the chiefs of the Crows, whose portrait also was painted at Yellow- 

 stone twenty years before, turned up. All recognized him, and Bi-eets-e-cure told 

 them that he saw me when I was painting that picture twenty years before. 



Through the interpreter I told them that more than a hundred thousand white 

 people had seen the chief's face, and, as they could see, there was not a scratch upon 

 it. The chief then arose upon his feet, and making signs for me to rise, embraced 

 mo in his arms, and each one of the party saluted me in the same affectionate manner. 



See Ba-da-ah-chon-du (the Jumper, No. 170). His head-dress of war-eagles' quills — 

 his robe the skin of a buffalo, with his battles painted on it, his lance in his hand,, 

 his shield and quiver slung on his back, his tobacco-sack suspended from his belt, and 

 his leggings fringed with scalp-locks. 



In conversation which I had with Bi-eets-e-cure, he informed me that the chief 

 Ba-da-ah-chon-du t whose portrait we had just seen, was dead — that he died soon after 

 I painted his portrait, and many of his friends and relations believed that the paint- 

 ing of the portrait was the cause of his death; "But," said he, "I told them they 

 were very foolish — that I had no fears when mine was painted, and here I am alive 

 after so many years." 



I told them that no man of good sense could see any way in which the painting 

 could do them an injury, and that amongst the white people we all had our portraits 

 made, and it did us no harm. They all gave their assent in a "How, how, how!" 

 and the next day I slipped off the "skin," as they called it, of two or three of them ; 

 and, amongst them, and the first, that of the young chief whose hospitality I was en- 

 joying. (Plate No. 14. ) 



I painted him at his toilet, as he was letting down his long hair and oiling it with 

 bear's grease, which his wife was pouring into his hand from a skin bottle; and she, 



