There is, I know, a widespread idea that Indians are silent and solemn people, never speaking except in monosyllables. It is true that the Saukies are silent when talk is fruitless, as, for example, when they return from a long journey and are surrounded by a hundred relatives and friends. They have learned that conversation, at such a time, is a waste of breath. In their public utterances, too, they are slow to speak, believing that since their words will be repeated, they must be chosen carefully and thoughtfully. But when playing at dice, or traveling, or sitting with their families, or racing their canoes, they are garrulous and cheerful, quick to show surprise, amusement or contentment, and no less backward at displaying disapproval or chagrin.

When we came out on the broad, clear river, all seven of the red men howled, thumping their paddles on the gunwales of the canoe, and their eyes had a foggy look, as though the sight of the river moved them. When they were through yelling, they ran the canoe to the river-bank, disembarked with their packs, and set about decorating themselves, as businesslike as a troupe of actors preparing for a performance.

They laid out mirrors and paints, and went at themselves with hair-pullers, which were corkscrews made from a split piece of metal.

They pulled out each other’s hair, not only next to the crests on their heads, but from their chests and chins as well, though the latter was thin and straggly, and not much to brag of. They singed their manes until they were smooth and neatly rounded; then filled the crests with red mud. Like seven strange crested birds they sat in a row in the sun to dry their hair, daubing themselves with paint and admiring the results in their handmirrors. They acted, Doc said, like a bridegroom painting a privy.

When we took to the water again, they were a gaudy company. In place of the black faces they had affected when they captured us, their chins and lower ears were vermilion, and white stripes ran upward from their black noses and over the tops of their heads, parallel to their bright red crests. Thus they had the look of enormous red-headed woodpeckers. The similarity, Verrieul learned, was only partly intentional. The white paint was used solely because they belonged to the White Party. Every male in the entire Sac nation, he discovered, was made either a White or a Black at birth. Thus the nation was evenly divided into ready-made factions, who were forever striving against each other, in hunting and war and games; even in dancing or the singing of war songs. In this way the spirit of patriotic competition was not only instilled in every boy as soon as he was able to walk, but kept alive in every man until his dying day.