The Sioux[4] were in their summer-houses, and the village stretched along the bank of the river for a quarter of a mile. It reached back, too, to the foot of a high hill, and some of the lodges were shaded by the overhanging branches of the elm and maple. Above the homes of the living might be seen the burial-place of the dead; for, on the summit of the hill the enveloped forms of the departed were receiving the last red beams of the retiring sun, whose rising and repose were now for ever unnoticed by them. The long, warm day was closing in, and the Indians were enjoying themselves in the cool breezes that were stirring the waves of the river and the wild flowers that swept over its banks. They were collected in groups in every direction, but the largest party might be found surrounding a mat, on which was seated the old war-chief of the band, who had long dragged a tedious existence, a care to others and a burden to himself. The mat was placed near the wigwam, so that the sides of the wigwam supported the back of the aged and infirm warrior. His hair was cut straight over his forehead, but behind it hung in long locks over his neck. Warm as was the season, the buffalo robe was wrapped around him, the fur side next to him, while on the outside, in Indian hieroglyphics, might be read many an event of his life. Around the edge of the robe was a row of hands painted in different colours, representing the number of enemies he had killed in battle. In the centre of the robe were drawn the sun and morning star, objects of worship among the Sioux, and placed on the robe as a remedy for a severe sickness which once prostrated his vital powers, but was conquered by the efficacious charm contained in the representation. Ornaments of different kinds adorned his person; but his limbs were shrunken to the bone with age, and the time had long since come to him when even the grasshopper was a burden. The features of the Sioux were still expressive, though the eyes were closed and the lips thin and compressed; he was encircled with a dignity, which, in all ages and climes, attaches itself to an honourable old age. Close by his side, and contrasting strongly with the war-chief, was one of his nearest relations. She was his granddaughter, the orphan girl of his favourite son. She was at once his companion, attendant, and idol. They were never separated, that old man and young girl; for a long time he had been fed by her hands, and now he never saw the light of the sun he worshipped except when she raised and held open the eyelids which weakness had closed over his eyes. She had just assisted his tottering steps, and seated him on the mat, where he might enjoy the pleasant evening-time and the society of those who delighted in the strange stories his memory called up, or who were willing to receive the advice which the aged are ever privileged to pour into the hearts of the young.