268 THE GEORGE CATL1N INDIAN GALLERY. 



down the high grass, and, making for that blue point, rising, as you can just discern, 

 above this ocean of grass, a good day's work will bring us over this vast meadow 

 before sunset." We entered the trail, and slowly progressed on our way, being obliged 

 to follow the winding paths of the buffaloes, for the grass was higher than the backs 

 of our horses. Soon after we entered, my Indian guide dismounted slowly from his 

 horse, and lying prostrate on the ground, with his face in the dirt, he cried, and was 

 talking to the spirits of the brave. " For," said he, " over this beautiful plain dwells 

 the Spirit of Fire! he rides in yonder cloud ; his face blackens with rage at the sound, 

 of the trampling hoofs ; the fire-bow is in his hand ; he draws it across the path of 

 the Indian, and quicker than lightning, a thousand flames rise to destroy him ; such 

 is the talk of my fathers, and the ground is whitened with their bones. It was here," 

 he continued, " that the brave son of Wah-chee-ton, and the strong-armed warriors of 

 his band, just twelve moons since, licked the fire from the blazing wand of that great 

 magician. Their pointed spears were drawn upon the backs of the treacherous Sioux, 

 whose swifter-flying horses led them, in vain, to the midst of this valley of death. 

 A circular cloud sprang up from the prairie around them ; it was raised, and their 

 doom was fixed by the Spirit of Fire ! It was on this vast plain of fire-grass that 

 waves over our heads, that the swift foot of Mah-to-ga was laid. It is here, also, 

 that the fleet-bounding wild horse mingles his bones with the red man ; and the eagle's 

 wing is melted as he darts over its surface. Friends, it is the season of fire ; and I 

 fear, from the smell of the wind, that the spirit is awake!" 



Fah-me-o-ne-qua said no more, but mounted his wild horse, and waving his hand, 

 his red shoulders were seen rapidly vanishing as he glided through the thick mazes 

 of waving grass. We were on his trail, and busily traced him until the midday sun 

 had brought us to the ground, with our refreshments spread before us. He partook 

 of them not, but stood like a statue, while his black eyes, in sullen silence, swept 

 the horizon round ; and then, with a deep-drawn sigh, he gracefully sunk to the 

 earth, and laid with his face to the ground. Our buffalo tongues and pemmican and 

 marrow-fat were spread before us, and we were in the full enjoyment of these dainties 

 of the Western world, when, quicker than the frightened elk, our Indian friend 

 sprang upon his feet. His eyes skimmed again slowly over the prairie's surface, and 

 he laid himself as before on the ground. 



" Red Thunder seems sullen to-day," said Bogard. " He^ startles at every rush of 

 the wind, and scowls at the whole world that is about him." 



" Ther's a rare chap for you — a fellow who t* ould shake his fist at Heaven, when 

 he is at home ; and here in a grass-patch, must make his fire-medicine for a cir- 

 cumstance that he could easily leave at a shake of his horse's heels." 



"Not sae sure o' that, my hooney, though we'll not be making too lightly of the 

 matter, nor either be frightened at the mon's strange octions. But, Bogard, I'll tell 

 ye in a 'ord (and thot's enough), there's something more than odds in all this medi- 

 cine. If this mon's a fool, he was born out of his own country, that's all — and if the 

 divil iver gits him, he must take him cowld, for he is too swift and too wide-awake 

 to be taken alive — you understond thot, I suppouse ? But to come to the plain mat- 

 ter— supposin' that the Fire Spirit (and I go for somewhat of witchcraft), I say sup- 

 posin' that this Fire Spirit should jist impty his pipe on t'other side of thisprairie, and 

 strike up a bit of a blaze in this high grass, and send it packing across in this direc- 

 tion, before sich a death of a wind as this is ! By the bull barley, I'll bet you'd be 

 after making medicine, and taking a bit of it, too, to get rid of the racket." 



" Yes, but you see, Patrick " 



"Neever mind thot (not wishin' to distarb you); and suppouse the blowin' wind 

 was coming fast ahead, jist blowin' about our ears a warld of smoke and chokin' us 

 to dith, and we were dancin' about a Varginny reel among these little paths, where « 

 the divil would we be by the time we got to that bluff, for it's now fool of a distance? 

 Givin' you time to spake, I would say a word more (askin' your pardon) ; I know by 

 the expression of your face, mon, you neever have seen the world on fire yet, and 



