through the high grasses of the meadow to where the Indian lodges lifted
their pointed tops against the sky.

The wigwams were scattered apparently at random. Before each a fire
burned. Women and girls busied themselves with a variety of camp-work. A
tame crow hopped and fluttered here and there just out of reach of the
pointed-nosed, shaggy wolf-dogs.

The latter rushed madly forward at the approaching strangers, yelping in
a curious, long-drawn bay, more suggestive of their wolf ancestors than
of the domestic animal. Dick and Sam laid about them vigorously with
short staffs they had brought for the purpose. Immediately the dogs,
recognising their dominance, slunk back. Three men sauntered forward,
grinning broadly in amiable greeting. Two or three women, more bashful
than the rest, scuttled into the depths of wigwams out of sight. A
multitude of children concealed themselves craftily, like a covey of
quail, and focussed their bright, bead-like eyes on the new-comers. The
rest of the camp went its way unmoved.

"Bo' jou', bo' jou'," greeted Sam Bolton.

"Bo' jou', bo' jou'," replied the three.

These Indians were of the far upper country. They spoke no English nor
French, and adhered still to their own tribal customs and religious
observances. They had lingered several days beyond their time for the
purpose of conjuring. In fact at this very moment the big medicine lodge
raised itself in the centre of the encampment like a miniature circus
tent. Sam Bolton addressed the two in their own language.