All this was settled on the evening of the day in which they had arrived, and early on the following morning they crossed the river on a visit to the Indian settlement, in search of a guide. The Indian settlement was not a very extensive one. It consisted of about a dozen wigwams. These camps are constructed of poles set together in a conical shape, and covered over with birch bark, a substance that with them is made to serve a wonderful number of purposes. On entering the settlement, a number of dogs came up and smelt them very deliberately. They saw a number of children, who, at their approach, darted inside the nearest camp. Old squaws were busy cooking. One or two Indians were engaged in making baskets. The whole scene had a peaceful, primitive, and romantic character. It was clean, too; for though an Indian camp has no architectural pretensions, yet it rarely gives forth those overpowering odors which are encountered on approaching many of the houses of the more civilized races. An Indian advanced to meet the boys. “Good day, brother,” said Bart; for in this country it is the fashion to address an Indian by this fraternal title. “Good day, broder,” said the Indian, in a friendly way. He was rather old, fearfully wrinkled, and his long, coarse hair reached to his shoulders. As Bart looked at him, it struck him that this man would be a most desirable guide; his age made him trustworthy, while, at the same time, his sturdy frame and sinewy limbs showed that he possessed all the powers of endurance that might be desired. With these thoughts Bart made known to him the object of his visit. As he spoke, the other Indians listened with much interest, and addressed remarks to one another, accompanied with glances at the boys, which seemed to afford them great amusement; for smiles came over their grave faces, and some of the younger squaws giggled, and numbers of little heads were poked out through the doors of several wigwams, and numbers of little sparkling black wild eyes were fixed upon the visitors to the camp. The Indian whom they had accosted thought for some time over Bart’s question, and then addressed some remarks to the others. Some conversation followed, which, of course, was not intelligible to the boys, since it was carried on in the language of these Indians. At length the one whom Bart was talking with informed him that he would be willing to go himself as guide. “Me go; me go; takum you troom wood. Me good guide, fus rate; go often. My name Sam.” At this Bart was overjoyed. “You wantum shoot?” asked the Indian. “No,” said Bart, with a feeling of intense regret, “only to fish.” “Berry well, fishum; all same. Me show all aboutum. When you go?” Bart said that he wanted to set out that very day, if he could. “Me all ready,” said Sam. “Go now, or to-morrow; all same.” Upon this Bart said that they would go back to get their things, and return by noon, when they might all set out together.