heard him spoken of, by his relations in Connecticut, as "our Indian
cousin," it never occurred to me to doubt his belonging to that race,
although I now think that if I had met him elsewhere I should have taken
him for a Spaniard or a Mexican. His complexion had decidedly more of
the olive than the copper hue, and his countenance was grave, almost
melancholy. He was very silent during this interview, asking few
questions, and offering no observations except in reply to some question
addressed to him.

It was a hard pull for the men up the rapids. Wish-tay-yun, whose clear,
sonorous voice was the bugle of the party, shouted and whooped--each one
answered with a chorus, and a still more vigorous effort. By-and-by the
boat would become firmly set between two huge stones--

"Whoop la! whoop! whoop!"

Another pull, and another, straining every nerve--in vain.

"She will not budge!"

"Men, overboard!" and instantly every rower is over the side and into
the water.

By pulling, pushing, and tugging, the boat is at length released from
her position, and the men walk along beside her, helping and guiding
her, until they reach a space of comparatively smooth water, when they
again take their seats and their oars.

It will be readily imagined that there were few songs this day, but very
frequent _pipes_, to refresh the poor fellows after such an arduous