baffled eyes of the struggling brute, the
rest was only a matter of judicious knife-
thrusts. Ninon saw this. She rode past
her lover, and snatched the twisted bullion
cord from his hat that she had braided and
put there, and that night she tied it on the
hat of the Pawnee who had killed the buffalo.

The Pawnees were rather proud of the
episode, and as for the Frenchmen, they did
not mind. The French have always been
very adaptable in America. Ninon was
universally popular.

And so were her soups.

Every man has his price. Father de
Smet's was the soups of Mademoiselle Ninon.
Fancy! If you have an educated palate and
are obliged to eat the strong distillation of
buffalo meat, cooked in a pot which has
been wiped out with the greasy petticoat of
a squaw! When Ninon came down from
St. Louis she brought with her a great
box containing neither clothes, furniture,
nor trinkets, but something much more
wonderful! It was a marvellous compound-
ing of spices and seasonings. The aromatic
liquids she set before the enchanted men of
the settlement bore no more relation to