THE OTOE MESSENGERS.

On the afternoon following, a little before sunset, we encamped within ten miles of the Otoe village. Several times during the day, we had observed the heads of Indians, peering over the hills, but they had instantly disappeared upon being remarked, nor had an Indian ventured to approach. Our place of encampment was on a small knoll. At its foot, a meagre run of impure water was struggling through the grass, while a long line of tall, rank weeds marked its course, as it wound a passage along the different hollows. A solitary tree grew over a small puddle, which had formed in the prairie; and a cluster of wild plum trees were knotted together around its trunk. With these exceptions, there was not a tree or a bush in sight.

At a little distance from us was the site of a deserted Indian village. It had been uninhabited for many years, and the stations where the lodges once stood were overgrown with weeds and creeping vines. A short distance off was the burial ground of the place, which evidently had not been visited for a long time. The tall grass waved upon the large mounds, and the frightened prairie hen started up from the resting places of the dead.

We had scarcely encamped, and fixed up the largest tent, when the loud cry, “Indian a-head!” was bellowed out by the stentorian lungs of one of the soldiers.

The savage was on a hill, about five hundred yards distant. He was mounted upon a small black horse; clothed in a scarlet blanket, and in his hand held a long spear. He sat for some moments watching our movements; then thumping his heels into the sides of his horse, he dashed across a hollow that intervened, and galloped to the door of the tent. Here he sprang from the animal, and turning him loose, walked up to the guide. They were well acquainted; but his salutation was calm and cold; a slight smile played over his face, for a moment, as he recognized him, then all was quiet. His features were like stone; and whatever passions may have lurked within his bosom, his countenance was not the mirror that reflected them. He was attired in the wild garb of those Indians, who as yet had but little intercourse with the whites. A pair of rough leggings were drawn over his legs, and a piece of blue cloth was secured around his hips. The rest of his body was unclothed, unless the red blanket, which most of the time, lay on the ground at his feet, might have been considered part of his apparel.

The chief of the Otoe village had been apprised of our approach, and had sent this warrior to watch, lest we should come upon the town before it was prepared for our reception. He hung around the tent for some time, saying little; but we could see, that while his face was apparently turned towards the ground, his dark eyes were moving with restless activity in every direction, scanning every action of the party. He remained with us a short time; then having received a few presents for the chiefs and one or two for himself, he caught the end of the buffalo tug, which though secured to the neck of his horse, was long enough to trail twenty feet after him in the grass—and with a sudden jerk brought the animal to him and sprang upon his back.

He had scarcely mounted, before another Indian appeared on an opposite hill, and galloped towards us. He exchanged a slight salutation with the first comer, and passing him, shook hands with the guide. There was more cordiality about him, than we had observed in the other, and his face wanted the cold reserve, which marked that of the first. Upon reaching the tent, he immediately signified his intention to remain during the night, and accordingly turned loose the small white horse upon which he rode. Then lighting his pipe, he wrapped his blanket round him, and quietly seated himself near the fire—watching the cook, who was busily engaged in preparing supper.

The other, finding what was his intention, started off towards the village, and in a few moments was out of sight.