the sport. Twelve chiefs of the Sioux,
between whom and the half-breeds there had
been strife, came into the hunting-camp to
treat for peace. While the pipe of peace
was being smoked in the council lodge, some
young men brought in the body of a half-breed,
newly scalped. His death was attributed
to the Sioux, for whose chiefs it was
then difficult to secure a safe passage out of
the camp. Negotiations of peace were of
course ended. Three days afterwards a band
of Sioux was found, upon which revenge was
taken. Eight were killed in the skirmish.
The half-breeds left the bodies of their
enemies to be dealt with by their companions
the Salteaux, who set up a scalp dance, and
inflicted on them frightful mutilation. One
old woman, whose husband had been slain by
the Sioux, especially distinguished herself by
her zeal in digging out the eyes of the dead
foemen.

All giving grand chase, when in the midst
of an immense herd of buffalo, Mr. Kane
thus tells how he was himself possessed with
the enthusiasm at once of an artist and a
hunter. The throwing of the cap is in
accordance with the Red River hunter's
custom of marking his own game by throwing
some article of his dress upon it:—"I
again joined in the pursuit; and, coming up
with a large bull, I had the satisfaction of
bringing him down at the first fire. Excited
by my great success, I threw down my cap,
and, galloping on, soon put a bullet through
another enormous animal. He did not,
however, fall, but stopped and faced me, pawing
the earth, bellowing, and glaring savagely at
me. The blood was streaming profusely from
his mouth, and I thought he would soon
drop. The position in which he stood was
so fine that I could not resist the desire of
making a sketch. I accordingly dismounted,
and had just commenced when he suddenly
made a dash at me. I had hardly time to
spring on my horse and get away from him,
leaving my gun and everything else behind.
When he came up to where I had been
standing, he turned over the articles I had
dropped, pawing fiercely as he tossed them
about, and then retreated towards the herd.
I immediately recovered my gun, and having
re-loaded, again pursued him, and soon
planted another shot in him. This time he
remained on his legs long enough for me to
make a sketch."

Having thus made notes in his own way upon
buffalo-hunting, Mr. Kane desired to pursue
hia travels. His guide, though sick with
measles, agreed to accompany him back to
the settlement, doing no work, of course, and
riding in the cart. On the way, however,
the guide's strength broke down when they
were in the middle of Swampy Lake, fourteen
miles across. Here the traveller found
only one small dry spot above water, large
enough to sit upon, but not affording room
for his legs, which had to remain in the
water. In the small cart there was no more
room than the sick man required. Means
for cooking there were none, and the dried
meat had to be eaten raw.Traveller and
guide were both fresh meat to the mosquitoes,
who in the midst of the swamp were on their
own ground, and took complete possession of
their visitors. In this manner the night was
spent, and at four o'clock next morning the
artist in search of the picturesque had to set
off through the swamp in search of the
horses, catching them only after five hours'
pursuit through water that reached up to his
middle. After leaving the swamp the guide
felt so much better that he wished Mr. Kane
to push forward on horseback, while he
followed at leisure in the cart; but until he
had been seen safely across Stinking River,
which the horses had to swim, it was not
thought safe to comply with his request.
Then the artist, riding forward, took a wrong
track, and was up to his horse's neck in a black
swamp abounding with reptiles. It was
raining hard, and there was no sun, no
compass, to guide the traveller. His only hope
was to push steadily on through the mud in
one direction, hoping thus to strike the
Assiniboine River. After ten or twelve
miles of uncertain floundering, the Assiniboine
was found, and two hours afterwards
Mr. Kane was again in Fort Garry. The
poor guide who, after he had been left,
became rapidly worse, was found and brought
into the fort by two men looking for stray
horses. He died two days afterwards.

This is no tempting picture of experience
of tourists in the wilds of North America.
The mere difficulties of the rock, the river,
and the prairie are more than any man could
conquer single-handed; and danger from the
Indian is by no means an inconsiderable part
of the risk to be encountered. The Indian
principle of revenge demands for a life taken,
or a sacrilege committed by one white man
who escapes punishment, the life of the next
white man who can be met with. Among
the friendliest tribes, therefore, it may happen
that a tomahawk is clutched by some wild
painted gentleman, who looks to the most
innocent white visitor for deadly satisfaction.
Whoever sleeps on board canoe in the Red
River is disturbed in the night by unearthly
groans. The groans are not of the earth,
but of the water; being a strange noise made
of nights by the Red River sunfish. A strong
headwind detained the traveller upon the
river; but, while he occupied his time with
portrait-painting in a Salteaux camp upon
the river bank, a medicine-man offered to
give three days of fair wind for a pound of
tobacco. The charge was considered too
great for so small a supply of wind, and the
bargain was closed amicably at the price of
a small plug for six days, the medicine-man
offering a dinner of roast dog to seal the
bargain.

We follow the artist in his wandering up