Preparatory to this event, the great chief of the nation, Four-Legs,
whose village we had passed at the entrance to Winnebago Lake, had
thought proper to take a little carouse, as is too apt to be the custom
when the savages come into the neighborhood of a sutler's establishment.
In the present instance, the facilities for a season of intoxication had
been augmented by the presence on the ground of some traders, too
regardless of the very stringent laws prohibiting the sale of liquor to
the Indians.

Poor Four-Legs could not stand this full tide of prosperity. Unchecked
by the presence of his Father, the agent, he carried his indulgence to
such excess that he fell a victim in the course of a few days. His
funeral had been celebrated with unusual pomp the day before our
arrival, and great was my disappointment at finding myself too late to
witness all the ceremonies.

His body, according to their custom, having been wrapped in a blanket,
and placed in a rude coffin, along with his guns, tomahawk, pipes, and a
quantity of tobacco, had been carried to the most elevated point of the
hill opposite the fort, followed by an immense procession of his people,
whooping, beating their drums, howling, and making altogether what is
emphatically termed a "_pow-wow_"

After the interment of the body, a stake was planted at its head, on
which was painted in vermilion a series of hieroglyphics, descriptive of
the great deeds and events of his life The whole was then surrounded
with pickets of the trunks of the tamarack-trees, and hither the friends
would come for many successive days to renew the expression of their
grief, and to throw over the grave tobacco and other offerings to the
Great Spirit.