We were successful the first day in running down a young deer, with which we returned to the camp.  As we approached, what was my surprise to hear the sound of a fiddle!  Surely those tones could be produced by no one but Mike Laffan!  Could he have escaped?  There, sure enough, as we rode up to the lodges, was Mike himself, standing in the midst of a group of Indians; while he was fiddling away with might and main, they were dancing to the best of their ability, and keeping very good time too.