out, and in the highest spirits, laughing loudly at the glorious fun they were having, the braves commenced to enter the houses, ripping up the feather beds to look for guns and tearing down calico curtains for finery.  The men of the fort were nearly all away in the plains, and the women and children were in a high state of alarm.  Sometimes the Indians would point their guns at the women, then drag them off the beds on which they were sitting and rip open bedding and mattress, looking for concealed weapons; but no further violence was attempted, and the whole thing was accompanied by such peals of laughter that it was evident the braves had not enjoyed such a “high old time” for a very long period.  At last the chief, thinking, perhaps, that things had gone quite far enough, called out, in a loud voice, “Crees!  Crees!” and, dashing out of the fort, was quickly followed by the whole band.

Still in high good humour, the braves recrossed the river, and, turning round on the farther shore, fired a volley to Wards the fort; but as the distance was at least 500 yards, this parting salute was simply as a bravado.  This band was evidently bent on mischief.  As they retreated south to their own country they met the carts belonging to the fort on their way from the plains; the men in charge ran off with the fleetest horses, but the carts were all captured and ransacked, and an old Scotchman, a servant of the Company, who stood his ground, was reduced to a state bordering upon nudity by the frequent demands of his captors.

The Blackfeet chiefs exercise great authority over their braves; some of them are men of considerable natural abilities, and all-must be brave and celebrated in battle.  To disobey the mandate of a chief is at times to court instant death at his hands.  At the present time the two most formidable chiefs of the Blackfeet nations are Sapoo-max-sikes, or “The Great Crow’s Claw;” and Oma-ka-pee-mulkee-yeu, or “The Great Swan.”  These men are widely different in their characters; the Crow’s Claw being a man whose word once given can be relied on to the death, but the other is represented as a man of colossal size and savage disposition, crafty and treacherous.

During the year just past death had struck heavily among the Blackfeet chiefs.  The death of one of their greatest men, Pe-na-koam, or “The Far-off Dawn,” was worthy of a great brave.  When he felt that his last night had come, he ordered his best horse to be brought to the door of the tent, and mounting him he rode slowly around the camp; at each corner he halted and called out, in a loud voice to his people, “The last hour of Pe-na-koam has come; but to his people he says, Be brave; separate into small parties, so that this disease will have less power to kill you; be strong to fight our enemies the Crees, and be able to destroy them.  It is no matter now that this disease has come upon us, for our enemies have got it too, and they will also die of it.  Pe-na-koam tells his people before he