The breakfast finished, we rinse our kettles and cups, tie them to our saddle-bows, and then mount and away, leaving our fire, or rather our smoke, to tell of our visit.
March 9th .-- Our journey this day led us past the first of the Four Lakes.

Scattered along its banks was an encampment of Winnebagoes.

They greeted their Father with vociferous joy--"_Bon-jour, bon-jour, Shaw-nee-aw-kee_," "_Hee-nee-kar-ray-kay-noo ?_" (how do you do ?) To this succeeded the usual announcement, "_Wys-kap-rah tshoonsh-koo-nee-noh!_" (I have no bread.) This is their form of begging; but we could not afford to be generous, for the uncertainty of obtaining a supply, should our own be exhausted, obliged us to observe the strictest economy.
How beautiful the entrapment looked in the morning sun! The matted lodges, with the blue smoke curling from their tops--the trees and bushes powdered with a light snow which had fallen through the night--the lake, shining and sparkling, almost at our feet--even the Indians, in their peculiar costume, adding to the picturesque! I was sorry to leave it, as we were compelled to do, in all haste, Souris, the pack-horse, having taken it into his head to decamp while we were in conversation with our red friends.

As he had, very sensibly, concluded to pursue his journey in the right direction, we had the good fortune to overtake him after a short race, and, having received much scolding and some blows from young Roy, whose charge he specially was, he was placed in the middle of the cavalcade, as a mark of disgrace for his breach of duty.
Our road, after leaving the lake, lay over a "rolling prairie," now bare and desolate enough.

The hollows were filled with snow, which, being partly thawed, furnished an uncertain footing for the horses, and I could not but join in the ringing laughter of oar Frenchmen as occasionally Brunet and Souris, the two ponies, would flounder, almost imbedded, through the yielding mass.