He was tall and muscular, though his form, through neglect of exercise, was fast verging towards corpulency. He wore a hat after the fashion of the whites, a calico hunting shirt and rough leggings. Over the whole was wrapped a heavy blanket. His face was unpainted, and although his age was nearly seventy his hair was raven black, and his eye as keen as a hawk’s. He was the White Plume, chief of the Kanzas nation. He had spent much time among the whites, and had gradually become familiarized with their manners. Upon entering the room he lifted his hat from his head and placed it upon the table; then advancing towards the Indian commissioner, who was seated near the door, he offered his hand to him; after which he shook hands in turn with the rest. Having done this, he stepped into the centre of the room, and wrapping his blanket closely around his body beneath his arms, commenced an address—not that he had any thing in particular to say, for he had come to the garrison by accident; but he was one of those windy characters who take great delight in listening to their own speeches, and who, unfortunately for the ears of many a civilised man, are not confined to savages alone. By his side stood his interpreter, a white man, who had spent many years among the tribe, and who translated the sentences, as the chief paused for that purpose. The address lasted for about ten minutes, by which time he was completely out of breath, and seated himself from mere exhaustion. The most of it was dull, and a mere repetition of the same ideas; but once in speaking of the loss of his children, who had died of the cholera during the fall previous, his language was even poetical. “My children,” said he, “have gone from me; the Great Spirit has called them; they have disappeared like the snow that melteth on the prairie. I was lonely; I returned to my lodge, but it was desolate, for they were not there.” When he had rested himself for a few moments he rose up; and after throwing out several hints of so broad a character that they smacked strongly of beggary, he received several presents, and left the building, winding his way over the prairie along the narrow trail which led to his village. CHAP. VIII. THE FOREST.—THE KICKAPOOS.