The dog vanished with astonishing celerity, and each guest turned his dish bottom upward to show that all was gone. Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and finally the tea. As the "soldiers" poured it out into the same wooden bowls that had served for the substantial part of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious and uninviting color.
"Oh!" said Reynal, "there was not tea enough, so I stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong."
Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminating. The tea was well sweetened, and that was all they cared for.
Now, the feast being over, the time for speech-making was come. The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood on which he cut up tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed them in due proportions. The pipes were filled and passed from hand to hand around the company. Then I began my speech, each sentence being interpreted by Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the whole audience with the usual exclamations of assent and approval. As nearly as I can recollect, it was as follows:—
"I had come," I told them, "from a country so far distant, that at the rate they travel, they could not reach it in a year."
"How! how!"
"There the Meneaska were more numerous than the blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men were brave warriors."
"How! how! how!"
I was assailed by twinges of conscience as I uttered these last words. But I recovered myself and began again.
"While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, I had
