 time had passed, even this secondary object attracted the
attention of the Tetons. Then it was that the trapper first learned by the shout
of triumph and the long drawn yell of delight, which burst at once from a
hundred throats, as well as by the terrible name which fill'd the air, that his
youthful friend was no other than that redoubtable and hitherto invincible
warrior, Hard-Heart.
 

                                  Chapter XXV

 »What, are ancient pistol and
 You friends, yet?«
                                                              Henry V, II.i.3-4.
 
The curtain of our imperfect drama must fall to rise upon another scene. The
time is advanced several days; during which very material changes had occurred
in the situation of the actors. The hour is noon, and the place an elevated
plain, that rose, at no great distance from the water, somewhat abruptly from a
fertile bottom which stretched along the margin of one of the numberless
water-courses of that region. The river took its rise near the base of the Rocky
Mountains, and after washing a vast extent of plain, it mingled its waters with
a still larger stream, to become finally lost in the turbid current of the
Missouri.
    The landscape was changed materially for the better, though the hand which
had impressed so much of the desert on the surrounding region, had laid a
portion of its power on this spot. The appearance of vegetation was, however,
less discouraging than in the more sterile wastes of the rolling Prairies.
Clusters of trees were scattered in greater profusion, and a long outline of
ragged forest marked the northern boundary of the view. Here and there on the
bottom, were to be seen the evidences of a hasty and imperfect culture of such
indigenous vegetables as were of a quick growth, and which were known to
flourish, without the aid of art, in deep and alluvial soils. On the very edge
of what might be called the table-land, were pitch'd the hundred lodges of a
horde of wandering Siouxes. These light tenements were arranged without the
least attention to order. Proximity to the water seemed to be the only
consideration which had been consulted in their disposition, nor had even this
important convenience been always regarded. While most of the lodges stood along
the brow of the plain, many were to be seen at greater distances, occupying such
places, as had first pleased the capricious eyes of their untutored owners. The
encampment was not military or in the slightest degree protected from surprise
by its position or defences. It was open on every side, and on every side as
accessible as any other
