“Bon-jour, bon-jour, Maman!” was their salutation, and they instantly plunged out of doors to relate to their companions what had happened.

Our afternoon’s ride was over a prairie stretching away to the northeast No living creature was to be seen upon its broad expanse, but flying and circling over our heads were innumerable flocks of curlews,

“Screaming their wild notes to the listening waste.”

Their peculiar, shrill cry of “crack, crack, crack—­rackety, rackety, rackety,” repeated from the throats of dozens, as they sometimes stooped quite close to our ears, became at length almost unbearable.  It seemed as if they had lost their senses in the excitement of so unusual and splendid a cortege in their hitherto desolate domain.

The accelerated pace of our horses, as we approached a beautiful, wooded knoll, warned us that this was to be our place of repose for the night.  These animals seem to know by instinct a favorable encamping-ground, and this was one of the most lovely imaginable.

The trees, which near the lake had, owing to the coldness and tardiness of the season, presented the pale-yellow appearance of unfledged goslings, were here bursting into full leaf.  The ground around was carpeted with flowers—­we could not bear to have them crushed by the felling of a tree and the pitching of our tent among them.  The birds sent forth their sweetest notes in the warm, lingering sunlight, and the opening buds of the young hickory and sassafras filled the air with perfume.

Nothing could be more perfect than our enjoyment of this sylvan and beautiful retreat[45] after our ride in the glowing sun.  The children were in ecstasies.  They delighted to find ways of making themselves useful—­to pile up the saddles—­to break boughs for the fire—­to fill the little kettles with water for Petaille and Lecuyer, the Frenchmen, who were preparing our supper.

Their amusement at the awkward movements of the horses after they were spancelled knew no bounds.  To our little nephew Edwin everything was new, and Josette, who had already made more than one horseback journey to St. Joseph, manifested all the pride of an old traveller in explaining to him whatever was novel or unaccountable.

They were not the last to spring up at the call “how! how!” on the following morning.

The fire was replenished, the preparations for breakfast commenced, and the Frenchmen dispatched to bring up the horses in readiness for an early start.

Harry and Josette played their parts, under our direction, in preparing the simple meal, and we soon seated ourselves, each with cup and knife, around the table-mat. The meal was over, but no men, no horses appeared.  When another half-hour had passed, my husband took Harry and commenced exploring in search of the missing ones.

The day wore on, and first one and then another would make his appearance to report progress.  Petaille and Lecuyer at length brought two of the horses, but the others could nowhere be found.  In time, Mr. Kinzie and Harry returned, wet to their knees by the dew upon the long prairie-grass, but with no tidings.  Again the men were dispatched after having broken their fast, but returned unsuccessful as before.