I thought myself, my occupation and the object of it had not escaped the
keen eye of the old man. He rose, came behind Mr. K____'s chair, and
regarded the picture with a most affectionate eye. I was afraid that he
would be angry at the liberty I had taken. No such thing! He was as
pleased as Punch.

"That Peter?" he grunted. "Give me--put up in wigwam--make dog too!
Owgh! owgh!" and he rubbed his hands together, and chuckled with delight.
Mr. K____ had some difficulty in coaxing the picture from the old chief;
so pleased was he with this rude representation of himself. He pointed to
every particular article of his dress, and dwelt with peculiar glee on the
cap and blue deer's tail.

A few days after this, I was painting a beautiful little snow-bird, that
our man had shot out of a large flock that alighted near the door. I was
so intent upon my task, to which I was putting the finishing strokes, that
I did not observe the stealthy entrance (for they all walk like cats) of a
stern-looking red man, till a slender, dark hand was extended over my
paper to grasp the dead bird from which I was copying, and which as
rapidly transferred it to the side of the painted one, accompanying the
act with the deep guttural note of approbation, the unmusical, savage
"Owgh."

My guest then seated himself with the utmost gravity in a rocking-chair,
directly fronting me, and made the modest demand that I should paint a
likeness of him, after the following quaint fashion:

"Moodie's squaw know much--make Peter Nogan toder day on papare--make
Jacob to-day--Jacob young--great hunter--give much duck--venison--to
squaw."