audiences were usually large, and far too lenient in the estimation of
Tus-ka-sah. First there was present, of course, Amoyah himself, seeming
a whole flock instead of one Pigeon. Then must be counted Altsasti, who
although a widow was very young, and as slight, as lissome, as graceful
as the "wreath" which her name signified. She was clad now in her winter
dress of otter skins, all deftly sewn together so that the fur might lie
one way, the better to enable the fabric to shed the rain; the petticoat
was longer than the summer attire of doeskin, for although the tinkle of
the metal "bell buttons" of her many garters might be heard as she
moved, only the anklets were visible above her richly beaded moccasins.
She seldom moved, however; sitting beside the fire on a buffalo rug, she
monotonously strung rainbow-hued beads for hours at a time. Her glossy,
straight black hair was threaded with a strand of opaque white beads
passing through the coils, dressed high, and copiously anointed with
bear's oil, and on her forehead she wore a single pendant wrought of the
conch-shell, ivory-white and highly polished. She maintained a busy
silence, but the others of the group--her father, sometimes her mother
and grandmother and the younger sisters and brothers--preserved no such
semblance of gravity, and indulged in appreciative chuckles responsive
to Amoyah's jests, idly watching him with twinkling eyes as long as he
would talk.

It would be difficult to say how long this might be, for there were no
windows to the winter houses of the Cherokees; in point of architecture
these structures resembled the great dome-shaped council-house,
plastered within and without with red clay; the floor was some three
feet lower than the surface of the ground outside, and the exit
fashioned with a narrow winding passage before reaching the outlet of
the door. The sun might rise or set; the night might come or go; no
token how the hour waxed or waned could penetrate this seclusion. The