Upon our entrance into the lodge, a large kettle had been filled with buffalo flesh and hard corn, and placed over the fire. When we were fairly settled in our abode, and the bustle of unloading had in a measure passed away, the wife of the chief (by-the-by he had five of them) poured the whole of its contents into a large wooden bowl. She then armed each of us with a black dipper made of buffalo horn, and made signs for us to commence. We did not wait for a second invitation, but immediately, with both fingers and dippers, attacked the mountain of food before us. We had not eaten since daylight; it was now late in the day; and the appetites of the party, never particularly delicate, having increased in proportion to the length of their fast, the devastation was enormous. But every excess brings with it its own punishment; and our case was not an exception to the general rule. Scarce had we finished, when a little Indian boy, half covered with a tattered buffalo skin, forced his way into the lodge, elbowing in among the warriors with all that transient air of consequence worn by _little_ characters when charged with some mission of importance. He came to the side of the chief, who was sitting near us, with his legs doubled under him, after the Turkish fashion, and whispered in his ear. The chief rose, and announced that the Long Hair, the second warrior of the village, had prepared a feast in honour of our arrival, and was waiting for us to come and partake. There was some demurring as to the acceptance of this invitation. The Interpreter, however, informed us that there was no resource, as eating your way into the good will of the savages, is necessary to the success of an Indian treaty. It was useless to plead that we had already eaten sufficient, for that is a thing incredible to an Indian, who always carries with him an appetite proportioned to the quantity to be eaten, and the opportunity of doing so. Let the latter come as often as it may, it invariably finds him prepared.