At night they gathered in groups, and made Cupid glad with the battles lost and won by his disciples. Then they danced, or, to ears polite, “hopped,” or tripped the light fantastic moccasin trimmed with beads, to music, primitive, ’tis true, but music made with Indian drums and rattling gourds. They went not in waltz, but circling round and round, and always round, as genteel people do, but round and round in single row, the circling ends of which would meet at any particular point, or all points, whenever the ring was complete, without reference to sets or partners, and joining in the hi-yi-yi-eia-ye-o-hi-ye-yi; and when tired sit down on the ground until rested, and then, without coaxing or renewed invitation, joining in, wherever fancy or convenience suited; for these round dances never break up at the unwelcome sound of the violin,——not, indeed, until the dancers are all satisfied. The toilets were somewhat expensive, at least the “outfit” of each maiden cost her tribe several acres of land,——sometimes, if of fine figure, several _hundred_ acres,——and not because of the long trails or expensive laces, for they do not need extensive skirts in which to dance, or laces, either, to enhance their charms; for the young gentlemen for whom they dressed were not envious of dry goods or fine enamel, but rather of the quality of paint on the cheeks of laughing girls; for girls will paint, you know, and those of whom I write put it on so thick that their beaux never have cause to say, “That’s too thin.” The boys themselves paint in real genuine paint, not moustaches alone, but eye-brows, checks, and hair. They wore feathers, too, because they thought that feathers were good things to have at a round dance; and they followed nature, and relieved the dusky maidens of seeming violation of nature’s plain intention.