outside. Judge Doty sat opposite me, with his back to the opening of the
tent, and the other gentlemen on either hand. We had for our waiter the
tall "mitiff" who had been the messenger of the morning. He was still in
the same garb--calico shirt, bright-colored scarf around his waist, and
on his head a straw hat encircled with a band of black ostrich feathers,
the usual dress of his class.

The tin cups which were to hold our coffee were duly set around, then
breakfast-plates of the same metal, with knives and forks; then followed
the viands, among the most conspicuous of which was a large tin pan of
boiled ducks.

The Judge, wishing to show, probably, that, although we were in the vast
wilderness, all fastidious nicety had not been left behind, took up the
plate which had been set before him, and, seeing something adhering to
it which did not exactly please him, handed it over his shoulder to
Grignon, requesting him to wipe it carefully. Grignon complied by
pulling a black silk barcelona handkerchief out of his bosom, where it
had been snugly tucked away to answer any occasion that might present
itself, and, giving the tin a furious polishing, handed it back again.
The Judge looked at it with a smile of approbation, and giving a glance
around the table as much as to say, "You see how I choose to have things
done," applied himself to his breakfast.

The trail for Fort Winnebago then led from the shore opposite Butte des
Morts, through _Ma-zhee-gaw-gaw_ swamp, and past Green Lake, and it was
well for the Judge that his horses stood waiting for him to "mount and
away" as early as possible after breakfast, or I am afraid the story I
should have been tempted to tell would have made his ride an
uncomfortable one throughout the day.