We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was hot beneath the horses’ feet, and between the blazing sides of two mountains.  Before long we had descended to a softer region, where we found a succession of little valleys watered by a stream, along the borders of which grew abundance of wild gooseberries and currants, and the children and many of the men straggled from the line of march to gather them as we passed along.  Descending still farther, the view changed rapidly.  The burning mountains were behind us, and through the open valleys in front we could see the ocean-like prairie, stretching beyond the sight.  After passing through a line of trees that skirted the brook, the Indians filed out upon the plains.  I was thirsty and knelt down by the little stream to drink.  As I mounted again I very carelessly left my rifle among the grass, and my thoughts being otherwise absorbed, I rode for some distance before discovering its absence.  As the reader may conceive, I lost no time in turning about and galloping back in search of it.  Passing the line of Indians, I watched every warrior as he rode by me at a canter, and at length discovered my rifle in the hands of one of them, who, on my approaching to claim it, immediately gave it up.  Having no other means of acknowledging the obligation, I took off one of my spurs and gave it to him.  He was greatly delighted, looking upon it as a distinguished mark of favor, and immediately held out his foot for me to buckle it on.  As soon as I had done so, he struck it with force into the side of his horse, who gave a violent leap.  The Indian laughed and spurred harder than before.  At this the horse shot away like an arrow, amid the screams and laughter of the squaws, and the ejaculations of the men, who exclaimed:  “Washtay!—­Good!” at the potent effect of my gift.  The Indian had no saddle, and nothing in place of a bridle except a leather string tied round the horse’s jaw.  The animal was of course wholly uncontrollable, and stretched away at full speed over the prairie, till he and his rider vanished behind a distant swell.  I never saw the man again, but I presume no harm came to him.  An Indian on horseback has more lives than a cat.

The village encamped on a scorching prairie, close to the foot of the mountains.  The beat was most intense and penetrating.  The coverings of the lodges were raised a foot or more from the ground, in order to procure some circulation of air; and Reynal thought proper to lay aside his trapper’s dress of buckskin and assume the very scanty costume of an Indian.  Thus elegantly attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo robe, alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe which he and I passed between us.  There was present also a select circle of Indian friends and relatives.  A small boiled puppy was served up as a parting feast, to which was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl of gooseberries, from the mountains.

“Look there,” said Reynal, pointing out of the opening of his lodge; “do you see that line of buttes about fifteen miles off?  Well, now, do you see that farthest one, with the white speck on the face of it?  Do you think you ever saw it before?”