“Soft-hearted philanthropists,” thought I, “may sigh long for their peaceful millennium; for from minnows up to men, life is an incessant battle.”

Evening approached at last, the tall mountain-tops around were still gay and bright in sunshine, while our deep glen was completely shadowed.  I left the camp and ascended a neighboring hill, whose rocky summit commanded a wide view over the surrounding wilderness.  The sun was still glaring through the stiff pines on the ridge of the western mountain.  In a moment he was gone, and as the landscape rapidly darkened, I turned again toward the village.  As I descended the hill, the howling of wolves and the barking of foxes came up out of the dim woods from far and near.  The camp was glowing with a multitude of fires, and alive with dusky naked figures, whose tall shadows flitted among the surroundings crags.

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place; that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain warrior, who seemed to be generally known for his social qualities.  I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my savage friends.  That day was the 1st of August, on which I had promised to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie.  The Fort was less than two days’ journey distant, and that my friend need not suffer anxiety on my account, I resolved to push forward as rapidly as possible to the place of meeting.  I went to look after the Hail-Storm, and having found him, I offered him a handful of hawks’-bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he would guide me in the morning through the mountains within sight of Laramie Creek.

The Hail-Storm ejaculated “How!” and accepted the gift.  Nothing more was said on either side; the matter was settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga’s lodge.

Long before daylight Raymond shook me by the shoulder.

“Everything is ready,” he said.

I went out.  The morning was chill, damp, and dark; and the whole camp seemed asleep.  The Hail-Storm sat on horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline and the mule which Raymond rode were picketed near it.  We saddled and made our other arrangements for the journey, but before these were completed the camp began to stir, and the lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as the squaws pulled them down in preparation for departure.  Just as the light began to appear we left the ground, passing up through a narrow opening among the rocks which led eastward out of the meadow.  Gaining the top of this passage, I turned round and sat looking back upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray light of the morning.  All was alive with the bustle of preparation.  I turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave of my savage associates.  We turned to the right, passing among the rocks and pine trees so dark that for a while we could scarcely see our way.  The country in front was wild and broken, half hill, half plain, partly open and partly covered with woods of pine and oak.  Barriers