A grassy plain, sloping gradually from the woody hill to a winding stream, was brightly beautiful with chestnut trees and long, well-formed lines of lodges.

Many-hued blankets hung fluttering in the sun, and rising lazily were curling columns of blue smoke.

The scene was picturesque and reposeful; the vivid hues suggesting the Indians love of color and ornament; the absence of life and stir, his languorous habit of sleeping away the hot noonday hours.
The loud whoops, however, changed the quiet encampment into a scene of animation.

Children ran from the wigwams, maidens and braves dashed here and there, squaws awakened from their slumber, and many a doughty warrior rose from his rest in the shade.

French fur traders came curiously from their lodges, and renegades hurriedly left their blankets, roused to instant action by the well-known summons.
The hunter, led down the lane toward the approaching crowd, presented a calm and fearless demeanor.