Feasts were given by the chiefs, and the medicine men went about the camp uttering loud cries, which were meant to express gratitude to the Great Spirit for the bountiful supply of food.  They also carried a portion of meat to the aged and infirm who were unable to hunt for themselves, and had no young men in their family circle to hunt for them.

This arrival of the hunters was a fortunate circumstance, as it put the Indians in great good-humour, and inclined them to hold friendly intercourse with the trappers, who for some time continued to drive a brisk trade in furs.  Having no market for the disposal of their furs, the Indians of course had more than they knew what to do with, and were therefore glad to exchange those of the most beautiful and valuable kind for a mere trifle, so that the trappers laid aside their traps for a time and devoted themselves to traffic.

Meanwhile Joe Blunt and his friends made preparations for their return journey.

“Ye see,” remarked Joe to Henri and Dick, as they sat beside the fire in Pee-eye-em’s lodge, and feasted on a potful of grasshopper soup, which the great chief’s squaw had just placed before them—­“ye see, my calc’lations is as follows.  Wot with trappin’ beavers and huntin’, we three ha’ made enough to set us up, an it likes us, in the Mustang Valley—­”

“Ha!” interrupted Dick, remitting for a few seconds the use of his teeth in order to exercise his tongue—­ha!  Joe, but it don’t like me!  What, give up a hunter’s life and become a farmer?  I should think not!”

“Bon!” ejaculated Henri, but whether the remark had reference to the grasshopper soup or the sentiment we cannot tell.

“Well,” continued Joe, commencing to devour a large buffalo steak with a hunter’s appetite, “ye’ll please yourselves, lads, as to that; but as I wos sayin’, we’ve got a powerful lot o’ furs, an’ a big pack o’ odds and ends for the Injuns we chance to meet with by the way, an’ powder and lead to last us a twelvemonth, besides five good horses to carry us an’ our packs over the plains; so if it’s agreeable to you, I mean to make a bee-line for the Mustang Valley.  We’re pretty sure to meet with Blackfeet on the way, and if we do we’ll try to make peace between them an’ the Snakes.  I ’xpect it’ll be pretty well on for six weeks afore we git to home, so we’ll start to-morrow.”

“Dat is fat vill do ver’ vell,” said Henri; “vill you please donnez me one petit morsel of steak.”

“I’m ready for anything, Joe,” cried Dick; “you are leader.  Just point the way, and I’ll answer for two o’ us followin’ ye—­eh! won’t we, Crusoe?”

“We will,” remarked the dog quietly.

“How comes it,” inquired Dick, “that these Indians don’t care for our tobacco?”

“They like their own better, I s’pose,” answered Joe; “most all the western Injuns do.  They make it o’ the dried leaves o’ the shumack and the inner bark o’ the red-willow, chopped very small an’ mixed together.  They call this stuff kinnekinnik; but they like to mix about a fourth o’ our tobacco with it, so Pee-eye-em tells me, an’ he’s a good judge.  The amount that red-skinned mortal smokes is oncommon.”