The moon was up, and my guests rose to mount their mules, in which I assisted the squaw. I wished to accompany them to their camp. They rode in front and I followed with their daughter Tahtoweja (Antelope) along the skirt of the wood, and reached the camp not long after them, which consisted of some forty large tents of white buffalo hides, which were put up in two long rows and formed a wide street, on both sides of which the fires were burning in front of the tents. Pahajuka dismounted in the middle of this street, and his squaw was leading his horses away when I reached the first tents with the young Indian girl, and the old chief's thundering voice rolled along the camp, while he walked quickly up and down the tents with the most animated gestures. My companion pulled me back by the hand when I was going up to him, and led me aside behind the first tent, where she sat down and peeped round it at him, while I noticed that all the Indians had crept into their tents and only popped their heads out. For half an hour the old fellow stormed up and down the camp, during which time no other sound was heard, and not one of the Indians ventured to come out of the tents. All at once he came up to me as calmly and pleasantly as if he had not uttered an angry word, took me by the hand, and led me to his fire, where I was obliged to sit down. He told me he had been giving his people a reproof for the impudence with which they had forced themselves into my camp, so that they might learn how to behave with white friends. I remained with them a long while, and listened to the animated, sensible stories of the old squaw, which were at times interrupted by a reproving look from Pahajuka, when he fancied she was more lively than propriety admitted, and that her remarks slightly wandered from the literal truth; then, however, she bent over him, laughingly pressed his head to her bosom, and patted him on the back with her hand till he freed himself from her affection.