"It is forbidden in Washington to dance in the old way."
"We have heard of that, but we will dance for your wives. They will be glad to see it."
"Very well, you may dance, but not too long. No war-dance—only the visitors' dance."
"Ay, we understand," said Many Coups as he rose and drew his blanket about him. "In one hour we will come to council. Red Wolf will be there, and Hump Shoulder and his son. It may be others will return in time."
The women were delighted at the promise of both a council and a dance, and Lawson unlimbered his camera in order to take some views of both functions, though he expressed some dissatisfaction.
"The noble redman is thin and crooked in the legs," he said to Curtis. "Why is this?"
"All the plains Indians, who ride the horse almost from their babyhood, are bow-legged. They never walk, and they are seldom symmetrically developed."
"They are significant, but not beautiful," said Lawson.
As they walked about the camp Elsie exclaimed: "This is the way all redmen should live," and, indeed, the scene was very beautiful. They were far above the agency, and the long valleys could be seen descending like folds in a vast robe reaching to the plain. The ridges were dark with pines for a space, but grew smooth and green at lower levels, and at last melted into haze. The camp was a summer camp, and all about, in pleasant places among the pines, stood the tepees, swarming with happy children and puppies. Under low lodges of canvas or bowers of pine branches the women were at work boiling meat or cooking a rude sort of cruller. They were very shy, and mostly hung their heads as their visitors passed, though they soon yielded to Jennie, who could speak a few words to them.
"There's nothing in them for sculpture," said Parker, critically. "At least not for beauty. They might be treated as Raffaelle paints—for character."