At sunrise of a fine day of dying September, the Piegans were rather lazily attending to the morning labours, the more disgustedly as these are usually turned over to the women.
The camp, intelligently placed on the water side, and otherwise defended by a double row of stakes, presented the untidy aspect of such places—"and smelt so, pah!"
War ponies, held by ropes to pegs, munched climbing peas. At the door of his tent, Red Knife—squatted at a fire—was regaling himself with a before-breakfast smoke. His eyes were half closed like a cat's. Two subchiefs stood by him with the same seeming inattention. After the horses had had their fill, they were taken to the watering place, whereupon the men might eat. So goes the care for the war horses: much like Arab rule.
Soon the chief was given his meat, simply enough composed of still fresh meat, roe smashed up with wild fruit to acidify it, and a bowl of hominy, or Indian corn hasty pudding, made savoury with bear's fat and flavoured with meat powder and a dash of rock salt. It was the hachesto, or crier, who was also the butler. When he had dished up, the commander kindly invited his lieutenants to squat by him and help him out with the repast. They nodded, laid by their pipes, and all three went to work without uttering a word. A European might not have relished the spread, even washed down with poor whisky and the icy water, but an Indian is not fastidious. When he has food, he eats gluttonously, absorbing an incredible quantity, for it is etiquette to refuse nothing and leave no crumbs. On the other hand, probably consoling their stomachs in privation by memory of past feasts and prospects of more, our red brothers support themselves with great fortitude.
Notwithstanding the quantity before them, the chiefs did not prolong the meal, which was over in fifteen minutes or so. The crier came up from where he was watching and handed the lighted pipe.
The other warriors, having finished breaking their fast, rolled themselves up in their wraps and went off in a doze by the fires. Such sleeping, eating, dozing, hunting, and fighting forms their life.
For two good hours all but the three leaders seemed reposing, and they never shifted their positions.
At about eleven o'clock the gallop of several horses was audible at a distance. The crier rose and hastened to the entrance of the palisadoed camp.
Coming up swiftly, he perceived three mounted Indians. They were armed for war, and by the foxtails on their leggings and by the grey eagle feather stuck upright over the left ear, one could conclude they were chiefs. They reined in when they arrived at the enclosure of pikes. The principal, as was shown by his keeping a shade in advance of the others, lifted his right hand open, the palm outwards, the four fingers kept together, and the thumb bent in. The hachesto made the same sign, and, going up nearer, saluted the newcomers respectfully enough, and in a low, measured voice, inquired their business. Being answered, he saluted again, and returned into the camp with his information.
Red Knife listened to the story in an unconcerned manner, but he ordered the visitors to be shown to him.