man brought in baskets of buffalo chips
from the prairie and built them a fire, or he
hung more skins up at the entrance to the
tepees. If he wanted to cross a river and
had no boat at hand, he leaped the uncertain
ice, or, in clear current, swam, with his
clothes on his head in a bundle.

A wonderful traveller for the time was
Father de Smet. Twice he had gone as far
as the land of the Flathead nation, and he
could climb mountain passes as well as any
guide of the Rockies. He had built a dozen
missions, lying all the way from the Colum-
bia to the Kaw. He had always a jest at
his tongue's end, and served it out with as
much readiness as a prayer; and he had,
withal, an arm trained to do execution.
Every man on the plains understood the
art of self-preservation. Even in Cainsville,
over by the council ground of the western
tribes, which was quite the most civilized
place for hundreds of miles, life was uncer-
tain when the boats came from St. Louis
with bad whiskey in their holds. But no one
dared take liberties with the holy father.
The thrust from his shoulder was straight
and sure, and his fist was hard.

Yet it was not the sinner that Father de