The principal villages of this division of the tribe were at Lake Winnebago, Green and Fox Lakes, the Barribault, Mud Lake, the Four Lakes, Kosh-ko-nong, and Turtle Creek.  Messengers were dispatched, at or before the arrival of the annuity-money, to all the different villages, to notify the heads of families or lodges to assemble at “the Portage.”

When arrived, the masters of families, under their different chiefs, give in their names, and the number in their lodges, to be registered.  As, in paying, a certain sum of money is apportioned to each individual, it is, of course, an object to the head of a lodge to make the number registered as great as possible.  Each one brings his little bundle of sticks, and presents it to the Agent to register.  Sometimes a dialogue like the following occurs: 

“How many have you in your lodge?”

The Indian carefully, and with great ceremony, counts his bundle of sticks—­“Fifteen”

“How many men?”

“Two.”  The Agent lays aside two sticks

“How many women?”

“Three.”  Three more sticks are separated.

“How many children?”

“Eight” Eight sticks are added to the heap.

“What is the meaning of these two sticks that remain?”

The culprit, whose arithmetic has not served him to carry out his deception, disappears amid the shouts and jeers of his companions, who are always well pleased at the detection of any roguery in which they have had no share.

The young officers generally assisted in counting out and delivering the money at these payments, and it was no unusual thing, as the last band came up, for the chiefs to take a quantity of silver out of the box and request their Father to pay his friends for their trouble, seeming really disturbed at his refusal.  In this, as in almost every instance, we see the native courtesy and politeness, which are never lost sight of among them.  If a party comes to their Father to beg for provisions, and food is offered them, however hungry they may be, each waits patiently until one of the company makes an equal distribution of the whole, and then, taking his share, eats it quietly, with the greatest moderation.  I never saw this rule violated, save in one instance.

Our friend, Pawnee Blanc, the Old Dandy, once came with a party of Indians, requesting permission to dance for us in the open space before the door.  It was a warm, dusty afternoon, and as our friends grew heated and fatigued with the violent and long-continued exercise, a pitcher of raspberry negus was prepared and sent out to them.  Pawnee received the pitcher and tumbler, and, pouring the latter about half full, gave it to the first of the circle, then filled the same for the next, and so on, until it suddenly occurred to him to look into the pitcher.  What he saw there determined his course of action; so, setting the tumbler upon the ground, he raised the pitcher with both hands to his lips and gave a hearty pull, after which he went on, giving less and less, until he was called to have the pitcher replenished.  All present agreed it was the only instance they had ever witnessed, of an Indian’s appearing afraid of getting less of a thing than his share.