The barometer hanging to a tree-branch caught his eye, and I tried by signs to explain it to him with no success except to convulse the whole crew.

At length with the exclamation "Squaw," he rode away and came back with his fair partner riding behind.

By this time we were packed up and we pushed off, the pair watching us with deep interest.
About a mile and a half below by the river, we came on them again at their camp, they having easily beaten us by a short cut.

Here was his wickiup made of a few cottonwood boughs, and in front of it the ashes of a fire.

Our side immediately claimed this was the light we had seen, and the discussion of this point continued until another night put an end to it.