THE RECEPTION.—THE TOWN.

It was many years after this savage deed that the Iotan was appointed chief of the Otoe tribe, and his after conduct fully justified the choice of the nation. To an ingenious skill in devising and planning war parties, he added a desperate daring in carrying them into effect. And though now well stricken in years, there is no warrior more constantly lurking in the path of the enemy, and when it comes to the deadly struggle, no voice is raised in a louder war whoop, and no arm falls heavier upon their foes, than that of the Iotan chief.

The old warrior welcomed us cordially, then turning round, he rode with us in the direction of his village. While he was speaking with the commissioner, several dusky forms clambered the high bluff before us, and stood upon its dizzy verge, watching our movements. Suddenly the Iotan galloped a few yards in front, and waved his arm, uttering a long, shrill yell. It was answered by a loud whoop from those on the hill; who instantly commenced whirling their blankets around their heads. Then all was silent.

For a few moments we were in doubt as to the meaning of the manoeuvre; but suddenly a loud roar rose from behind the bluff, and a dark troop of wild horsemen burst round its base, and came pouring down upon us. There must have been several hundred of them. Every man was naked, but glaring with paint. They flooded onward, pealing out scream upon scream, brandishing their spears, and whirling their tomahawks around their heads. It seemed as if old Pluto had given a holiday, and that his crew were revelling upon the earth, under the forms of these snorting steeds and their wilder masters. Still they came on, and the din increased. The old chief was unmoved, and sat like a statue upon his horse. I looked around upon our little band: there were several lowering brows and tightly compressed lips, and the fingers of two or three were on their gun triggers. They were not accustomed to the Indian welcome; and to them, all this long parade of yelling warriors wore a menacing appearance. The band had now approached within a hundred yards. We could perceive the flashing eyes of the straining horses, the bare teeth, scowling brows, and starting muscles of the riders. Bow clattered against bow; tomahawk clashed against tomahawk, and voice was blended with voice, until the whole din rose in the air, like the wild tumultuous roar of a raging sea. They were close upon us;—another moment—and we were lost. The eyes of the soldiers began to flash fire, their teeth were clenched, and there was an expression about their faces, which told, that in spite of numbers, their resistance would be bloody. At that moment, at a signal of the Iotan, the wild horde separated, and whirled around, enveloped in a cloud of dust.

The old chief smiled with an air of grim satisfaction, as he observed the effect produced upon us by his warriors; then raising his voice, he joined in the wild mÊlÉe around us. Horse dashed against horse, as the band swept onward in a large circle. Some were hurled from their seats; others clung to the manes of the maddened horses. The strong poured down upon the weak and brushed them from their paths. Ever and anon, some little pepper-spirited horse, vexed with the hustling, would pause to discharge his heels into the ribs of his next neighbour; but before it could be done, the crowd would press upon him, and again he would be borne onward, in the rushing course of the living whirlpool. No one regarded his neighbour; each was under the influence of a mad excitement. A giant Indian was dashing around, upon a horse as powerful as himself, at the inner verge of the ring. In front of him was another, on a little nag, who kept near the border for safety. Suddenly they came in contact. The powerful steed swept onward as if he had met with no obstacle. The little horse spun out of his path, and his rider threw a somerset in the air, landing in the very midst of the throng. Fifty hoofs clattered over his head; but he scrambled out, caught his horse, bounded on his back with a loud whoop, and flourish of his tomahawk, and pursued his course as if nothing had happened.

After this scene of hubbub and confusion had continued for about fifteen minutes, the crowd gradually ceased its clamour, and formed in a large circle round us, with their horses’ heads towards the party. Presently the ring broke and was extended in two lines, through which a band of about thirty warriors slowly advanced, to a long solemn chant, sung by the whole troop, and accompanied by a kind of drum. This band was formed of the flower of the Indian village. None were admitted except those who could boast of having taken a certain number of scalps, or of having performed an equally honourable service, in stealing a large number of horses. These warriors were highly ornamented; paint of every hue was laid upon their bodies. Their heads were decorated with feathers and the variegated plumage of the gaudy birds of the Platte islands. Long strings of wampum hung from their necks and ears. Each bore a calumet, adorned with feathers and tinkling bells. Some wore glittering armlets and collars of tin. Their heads were shaven, and covered with vermilion, and from the top of each hung the chivalrous scalp lock, generally adorned with an eagle’s plume. As much care had been bestowed upon the horses as upon their riders, and they had been selected from the whole village. They now moved forward with proud step, as if conscious of the haughty character of those who guided them; but this was as much owing to the horsemanship of the riders, as to the spirit of the animals themselves; for there is no class of people better able to show off the points of a horse than the Indians, for they almost live in their saddle from childhood.

The band moved slowly forward, and then commenced walking their horses round, a-breast, in the space between the multitude and our party; still keeping up their loud and not inharmonious song, which, we afterwards learned, was in praise of the whites—that is, of their liberality.

At length the chief gave a signal, and this troop fell back into the general crowd. Several horses were then presented to the party by the braves and distinguished warriors.

While this was going on, one old warrior, who was notorious for being the greatest thief, and for having killed more men than any other in the village, rose up to boast of what he had done in his younger days; and to let us know that he was not a man to be overlooked—a thing which seemed very likely to happen in the bustle which prevailed. He was lean and shrivelled; but his strength must have been prodigious in his prime, for every muscle rose like a rope, upon his withered frame. He spoke for about fifteen minutes, and then drew back. When he had concluded, another old man rose up, and in like manner vaunted his former exploits, many of which savoured strongly of the marvellous. These speeches were translated with great gravity by the interpreter, who, to confirm our wavering belief, took an opportunity of whispering into our ears that, “in boasting of his exploits, an Indian was always scrupulous in adhering to the truth.” This was perfectly convincing; and while we travelled along within the verge of possibility, we were resolved to give credence to all that he uttered.

After listening to a few more of these worthies, and smoking a few pipes of kinne-ka-neek with the different chiefs, the Iotan rose up, and the party prepared to move onward towards the town.

In crossing the prairie, which separated us from the village, our course was stopped by a deep gulley, which about a dozen squaws were engaged in filling with bushes and weeds, to render it passable for the heavy waggons. While this was going on, the old Indian who had first delivered his address, came sweeping up at a full gallop. He did not pause at the hollow; but, probably for the purpose of showing off his horsemanship, dashed down into it. His horse made a vigorous spring up the opposite bank, but lost his footing on its slippery verge, and, after a desperate scrambling, rolled with his rider, floundering in the mud at the bottom. There was a loud shout of laughter at his expense. For a moment he stood glaring about him like an angry tiger; then raising his withered arm, he shook it at the crowd. “Laugh on! laugh on!” exclaimed he, “I am old and feeble now; but there was a time when you would not have dared to have done this.” Having given vent to his impotent rage, he sprang upon his horse, scrambled up the bank, and galloped forward to the village.

In the course of an hour we reached the town. A large concourse of women and children followed at the heels of the party, and clustered like bees around the heavy waggons as they toiled along. We passed through the town, and fixed upon a small hill at about five hundred yards distance, as our camping ground. Accordingly the heavy waggons were drawn up; the tents were pitched around them, and the horses and oxen, being released from their labours, were sent off to a thick bottom of timber at a short distance, where the wild pea vines were matting together in the greatest luxuriance.

The village of the Otoe Indians is situated upon a ridge of swelling hills overlooking the darkly wooded banks of the Platte river, about a quarter of a mile distant. There is but little beauty or neatness about an Indian town. The lodges are built in the shape of a half egg. They frequently are twenty feet in height, and sometimes sixty in diameter. The roofs are formed of long poles, which diverge, like the radii of a circle, from one common centre. The ring of the circle is formed of upright posts, driven closely together in the ground, and projecting upward about five feet. These are interwoven with brushwood and the smaller branches of trees, and form the support of the outer end of the poles composing the roof, the interstices of which are also interwoven with twigs and brushwood. The whole is then covered with earth, and when finished resembles a large hillock. The town contained about seventy of these lodges, standing singly or in groups, without any attention to order or regularity. Within, they are capacious, but dark, being lighted merely by a small aperture at the top, which serves both as window and chimney. The fire is built in a cavity in the centre, directly under the hole in the roof, by which the smoke escapes after floating in easy wreaths about the interior.

As the lodges are very spacious, a little back from the fire there is a circular range of tree trunks standing like columns, and connected by timber laid in their forks, forming a support for the roof, which otherwise, from the great length of the poles that form it, and the heavy mass of superincumbent earth, might fall in, and bury the inhabitants. Around the wall of the building, are ranged cribs or berths for sleeping, screened from view by heavy mats of grass and rushes. Over the fire is inclined a forked stake, in the hook of which hangs a large kettle, generally filled with buffalo flesh and corn. This, to judge from its looks, is never removed from the fire, even for the purpose of cleaning it.