Kate told him this . But all the reply she got was a stolid , `` Want dollar . No make fire without dollar . '' We were getting cold and it was getting dark , so finally Kate , under the law of necessity , paid him his dollar . Then he carried out our orders at his own sweet leisure . In course of time he got a fire lighted , and while we cooked supper he set up the tent and prepared our beds , by cutting piles of brush and covering them with rugs . Kate and I had a hilarious time cooking that supper . It was my first experience of camping out and , as I had become pretty well convinced that Peter Crow was not the typical Indian of old romance , I enjoyed it all hugely . But we were both very tired , and as soon as we had finished eating we betook ourselves to our tent and found our brush beds much more comfortable than I had expected . Old Peter coiled up on his blanket outside by the fire , and the great silence of a windless prairie enwrapped us . In a few minutes we were sound asleep and never wakened until seven o'clock . * * * * * When we arose and lifted the flap of the tent we saw a peculiar sight . The little elevation on which we had pitched our camp seemed to be an island in a vast sea of white mist , dotted here and there with other islands . On every hand to the far horizon stretched that strange , phantasmal ocean , and a hazy sun looked over the shifting billows . I had never seen a western mist before and I thought it extremely beautiful ; but Kate , to whom it was no novelty , was more cumbered with breakfast cares . `` I 'm ravenous , '' she said , as she bustled about among our stores . `` Camping out always does give one such an appetite . Are n't you hungry , Phil ? '' `` Comfortably so , '' I admitted . `` But where are our ponies ?
And where is Peter XXXXX ? ''
Crow Indian Kate Peter Phil fire first flap minutes o'clock