VISIT FROM THE BRULES—FEAST ON DOG MEAT—SEAT OF HONOR ON THE PILLOW—RETURN JOURNEY—OPENING CACHES—SHOOTING FISH—CURIOUS MANNER OF COOKING FISH.

Soon after Christmas we had a visit from a party of Brules. The chief of this nation was a fine-looking man, about sixty years of age. He has died since then. His name was Wah-bah-hooter, or "long-mane" (long hair). Only a small portion of the nation came, the others being on a buffalo hunt. Their hunting ground adjoins that of the Poncas on the south, and continues as far as old Laramie Fort, which the Saints used to pass when traveling to Salt Lake Valley. Some nine of the chiefs accompanied this Sioux chief and his band. This visit was for business as well as for pleasure, and considerable trading was done on both sides in robes, skins, blankets, horses, and tobacco. While some were attending to business, others were visiting and feasting, and many of the young men and women were dancing.

Here I took my first meal of dog, this being the first great feast of the season (harvest feast, if you please).

All the visiting chiefs were invited as well as the ruling chiefs of the Poncas, twenty-two in number.

The old Frenchman came to me that morning and informed me of the grand "dog feast" in contemplation.

I told him I could not eat dog meat, and should go off from the village until all was over.

He advised me not to do that, as it would be sure to make the chiefs angry at me, for I would soon be invited. He also informed me that the dogs they cook and eat are not the common ones.

This edible dog is fed and raised especially for the table. It is a kind of poodle. I had often seen the squaws carrying little curly pups in bags at their backs, and had also seen them being fed on boiled meat and broth. These, I now learned were being raised for the "grand feasts."

About noon, a chief passed around the village inviting the guests, telling us the feast consisted of shanoodah warratta (dog food).

I found on entering the lodge all the visiting chiefs present, all of whom were seated on each side of the Ponca chief. On his right was a large feather pillow or cushion, the chief, War-bah-hoota sitting upon one end of it.

As soon as I entered, and was introduced to him and the other chiefs, he and they shook me by the hand, saying, Ah how cuggee? which is, "How do you do, friend?" I was then invited to sit on the other half of the cushion.

The pipe of peace was next in order, while our dog dinner was being cooked in a large kettle before us.

I well remember my feelings while this was going on, and glad indeed would I have been if I could have fasted instead of feasting.

Our smoke ended, the kettle was removed from the fire and the contents (four dogs) were put into the same large bowl I first ate out of. The chief, our host, carved them, giving each a piece, and after a long grace had been said, the eating commenced.

I had pictured to myself the eating of dog a great many times, but never expected to engage in the actual practice; but here I was with two nations of people who were dog-eaters, at a dog feast, and, to see them eat, one would certainly think they were "dogged" hungry.

The chief had cut me a piece off the hind quarter, that being a choice part. I placed a piece of it in my mouth, expecting it would be very strong; but in this I was agreeably disappointed, for I found the flavor very much like that of a small roast pig, and, as I was hungry, I ate most of what was offered to me.

After this, another smoke and a talk occurred, when I was asked a number of questions about our people's history, travels and religion, all of which I answered as I had done when questioned by the Poncas.

The Brules seemed to listen attentively, and appeared pleased with my answers, and invited me to visit them some time.

Both parties appeared to have a good time, and after the trading was done the Brules left for their hunting grounds, while we packed up and started back for the camps of the Saints, about two hundred miles distant.

It was now the middle of January, 1847. The disease with which I was troubled had almost left me, though I still had some sores upon my right side, about the size of the palm of one's hand.

We continued to travel, stopping occasionally by the way to open our caches, and get out the meat and half-dressed robes we had deposited as we passed up. Both robes and meat we found in excellent condition, being free from mold of any kind. These balls of meat, as they are called, were large, weighing from seventy to one hundred pounds each, and consisted of layers about three-fourths of an inch thick, which had been dried over the fire or in the sun.

The prime pieces, when broiled or raw, are very good eating; the coarse pieces are pounded fine on a rock prepared for the purpose, and eaten with the marrow taken from the bones of buffalo and elk. This marrow, with the dry pounded meat, is very palatable.

From the middle of the month the weather was fine and dry, and very good for hunting and the dressing of robes and small skins, although game of all kinds was scarce.

When traveling near the river, the young braves, who were very expert with the bow and arrow, could frequently be seen shooting fish. I have often seen them standing in the water, shooting the fish as they passed by them, and have known one Indian (the best shot in camp) to kill from four to seventeen good-sized fish in two hours. This was to me very interesting sport.

The Indians' method of cooking fish is very different to ours. After making a good wood fire and getting a quantity of hot ashes, they wrap the fish in clean, wet grass, put it under the hot ashes, add more wood to the fire, and so let it remain until the fish is cooked, which takes from one to two hours, according to size.

This may appear a very strange way of cooking to my readers, but it proved to me a very good one, and the fish is much sweeter, I think, than when fried in lard or butter according to our custom.

Digressing from my narrative, I may remark that I remember when in camp in Echo Canyon, one of the brethren brought a beef's head to our mess, and when asked by the cook what he was going to do with it, said, "Cook it for breakfast in the morning."

We supposed he would boil or fry the meat, but when asked a short time before breakfast how he proposed cooking the "joint," that we might test his skill in the culinary art, he told us it would be roasted and ready when the cook was ready to serve breakfast. He was as good as his word, for as soon as the cook removed the fried meat, biscuits, etc., from the fire, our friend took a fire shovel, scraped the ashes from the fire, and lifted the head, well wrapped and well cooked, from under the ashes. He had been ox guard during a part of the night, and had placed it there at midnight. It was better cooked and sweeter than any I had ever eaten before.