In mercy to myself and my horse, I never went out with the hunters after the first day.  Of late, however, I had been gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon every respite of my disorder.  I was soon able to walk with ease.  Raymond and I would go out upon the neighboring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail straggling buffalo, on foot, an attempt in which we met with rather indifferent success.  To kill a bull with a rifle-ball is a difficult art, in the secret of which I was as yet very imperfectly initiated.  As I came out of Kongra-Tonga’s lodge one morning, Reynal called to me from the opposite side of the village, and asked me over to breakfast.  The breakfast was a substantial one.  It consisted of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow; a repast absolutely unrivaled.  It was roasting before the fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up and planted in the ground before his lodge; when he, with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good will.  It spite of all medical experience, this solid fare, without bread or salt, seemed to agree with me admirably.

“We shall have strangers here before night,” said Reynal.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I dreamed so.  I am as good at dreaming as an Indian.  There is the Hail-Storm; he dreamed the same thing, and he and his crony, the Rabbit, have gone out on discovery.”

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my host’s lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled up a ravine, shot him and saw him escape.  Then, quite exhausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the village.  By a strange coincidence, Reynal’s prediction had been verified; for the first persons whom I saw were the two trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet me.  These men, as the reader may possibly recollect, had left our party about a fortnight before.  They had been trapping for a while among the Black Hills, and were now on their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or two to set out for the neighboring Medicine Bow.  They were not the most elegant or refined of companions, yet they made a very welcome addition to the limited society of the village.  For the rest of that day we lay smoking and talking in Reynal’s lodge.  This indeed was no better than a little hut, made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely open in front.  It was well carpeted with soft buffalo robes, and here we remained, sheltered from the sun, surrounded by various domestic utensils of Madame Margot’s household.  All was quiet in the village.  Though the hunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in their lodges, and most of the women were silently engaged in their heavy tasks.  A few young men were playing a lazy game of ball in the center of the village; and when they became tired, some girls supplied their place with