my place within, so near the fall of canvas that I could raise it
occasionally and peep forth upon the night.

In time all was quiet. The men had become silent, and appeared to have
retired to rest, and we were just sinking to our slumbers, when a heavy
tread and presently a bluff voice were heard outside.

"Mr. Kinzie! Mr. Kinzie!"

"Who is there? What is it?"

"I'm Krissman; didn't you mean, sir, that the men should have any liquor
to-night?"

"Of course I did. Has not Kilgour given out your rations?"

"No: he says you did not say anything particular about it, and he was
not coming to ask you if you forgot it; but I thought I wouldn't be
bashful--I'd just come and ask.'"

"That is right. Tell Kilgour I should like to have him serve out a
ration apiece."

"Thank you, sir," in a most cheerful tone; "I'll tell him."

Krissman was getting to be quite a character with us.

A row of a few miles, on the following morning, brought us to Four-Legs'
village,[8] at the entrance to Winnebago Lake, a picturesque cluster of
Indian huts, spread around on a pretty green glade, and shaded by fine