and I have known a bright man to acquire the vocabulary in two or
three days.

Black Buffalo and his little band shortly turned about and rode
back to their village, which was only two miles away. But they
first invited us to visit them, which we did, as not to have done
so would have been a violent breach of plains etiquette, that
might cause a disruption of friendship.

In the Indian village, after our horses had been unpacked and
turned out to graze, Uncle Kit and Black Buffalo strolled about
among the lodges or wick-i-ups, of which there were something like
fifteen hundred. I followed very closely for I was mortally afraid
to get fifteen feet away from Uncle Kit, in that sort of company.

Black Buffalo did us the honor, that evening, to take us to his
own private wick-i-up for supper. It was a custom with this, and
many other tribes of Indians, that conveyed great distinction to
visitors, to kill and cook for them a nice fat dog. However, I was
not then aware that I was so distinguished a guest, as indeed
neither I nor Mr. Hughes would have been had we not been in the
company of Kit Carson. With him we shone by reflected greatness.

While we were out on our walk about the village, Black Buffalo's
cook was preparing this distinguishing feast for us.

I had kept unusually quiet all the time we were among the Indians,
not even asking one question, which was very remarkable in me. For
I presume that on the journey I had asked more questions to the
lineal mile than any boy ever had before.