By the time the white people had eaten their lunch all the red women were in their best dresses. The pappooses were shining with the scrubbing they had suffered and each small warrior wore a cunning buckskin coat elaborate with beads and quills. A semicircular wall of canvas was being erected to shield the old men from the mountain wind, and a detail of cooks had started in upon the task of preparing the feast which would end the council. Said Curtis: "You will find in this camp the Tetong comparatively unchanged. Red Wolf's band is the most primitive encampment I know." A few minutes later he added, "Here comes Many Coups and his son in official garb." The two chieftains greeted their visitors as if they had not hitherto been seen--with all the dignity of ambassadors to a foreign court. "Please treat them with the same formality," warned Curtis. "It will pay you for the glimpse of the old-time ceremony." The younger man was unpainted, save for some small blue figures on his forehead. On his head he wore a wide Mexican hat which vastly became him. His face was one of the handsomest and most typical of his race. "This young man is the son of Many Coups, and is called Blue Fox, or 'The Southern Traveller,' because he has been down where the Mexicans are. His hat he got there, and he is very proud of it," explained Curtis. Jennie gave each of them a cup of coffee and a biscuit, of which they partook without haste, discussing meanwhile the coming council. "We did not know you were coming; some of our people will not get here in time," said Many Coups. "To-night, after the council, we wish to dance," said Blue Fox, meaning it as a request. "It is forbidden in Washington to dance in the old way." "We have heard of that, but we will dance for your wives. They will be glad to see it." "Very well, you may dance, but not too long. No war-dance--only the visitors' dance." "Ay, we understand," said Many Coups as he rose and drew his blanket about him. "In one hour we will come to council. Red Wolf will be there, and Hump Shoulder and his son. It may be others will return in time." The women were delighted at the promise of both a council and a dance, and Lawson unlimbered his camera in order to take some views of both functions, though he expressed some dissatisfaction. "The noble redman is thin and crooked in the legs," he said to Curtis. "Why is this?" "All the plains Indians, who ride the horse almost from their babyhood, are bow-legged. They never walk, and they are seldom symmetrically developed." "They are significant, but not beautiful," said Lawson.