The gaunt Indian dogs were prowling stealthily through the building. They knew that their hour of freedom had come, and with every leaping blaze of the embers, I could see them scattered throughout the lodge. There must have been nearly fifty of them in full motion, yet there was not a sound to be heard. They wound their way through the sleeping Indians, with the cautious and practised step of veteran burglars—too well acquainted with the wakeful habits of their masters, not to be silent in their doings; and too much in the habit of stealing, to be able to resist the temptation to plunder. Occasionally they paused, and cast a doubting look upon me, as I sat watching their movements. They however came to the conclusion that I was a stranger, and from my short stay, was not aware that it was the custom of every Indian, to bestow a bountiful share of wholesome kicks, upon every dog that came in his path, as a punishment for the thefts which he had already committed, and as payment in advance for his future transgressions. While I was watching their movements I was startled by a loud whine, which seemed to proceed from the roof of the lodge. At that sound there was a general scamper towards the mouth of the lodge, for they were certain, that the cry would awaken the savages, and that flight was their only safety. I had turned at the moment of the noise, to ascertain the cause of it. At the top of the lodge, and about ten feet from the ground, was a large dog, suspended by his teeth to a flitch of bacon, which had been hung up to the rafters to keep it in safety. Upon coming into the lodge, the animal had espied this, and mounting upon a high pile formed by our baggage, had sprung out at it, as it hung. He had been successful in his leap, and had buried his teeth in the meat. But this accomplished, he could do nothing more—he was dangling full ten feet from the ground; his only supporters were his jaws, which were fastened into the end of the bacon. He dared not let loose his hold, and he was equally certain he could not maintain it. In this predicament, he raised his voice, in a long, low, plaintive howl. Scarce had the sound escaped him, before a dozen clubs were clattering against his ribs, and as many clamorous voices raised in the hue and cry against him. With a loud yell, relaxing his jaws, he landed upon the head of an old Indian, who was dozing beneath, in defiance of the howls of the dog, and the clamour of his foes. The animal did not pause, but gaining his feet, scampered across the building, and made his escape amidst a shower of missiles of all descriptions. CHAPTER X. _Leaving Republican Village.—Prairie between that and Tappage Village.—Reception by Tappages.—Departure.—White Cranes.—Black Chief of the Loups.—Reception.—Chief’s Lodge.—Soldier Chief’s Feast._