DEPARTURE OF OTOES FOR THE HUNTING GROUNDS.

Several days had elapsed, and the growing coldness of the weather warned us that it was time for the expedition to be on its move towards the Pawnee villages.

The Otoes had consumed their supply of provisions, and were preparing to desert their town and start for the hunting grounds. The Iotan offered to accompany us, with about twenty of his principal warriors, that he might exert his influence with the Pawnees, to prevent any hostility towards us. Although chief of a different and but a small tribe, still his influence with these wild hordes was equal to that of any of their own leaders. His desperate courage had rendered him popular with the chiefs, and older warriors; and his sociable manners, though tinged with a dash of grimness, had rendered him a favourite with the less distinguished of the nation. In addition to this, the character of the Otoe tribe for furious courage, and pre-eminent skill with the rifle, gave great consequence to their chieftain.

It was for this reason that the proposition of the Iotan was gladly acceded to. And our preparations for departure were forthwith commenced.

In the meantime, a change took place in the village. Every family was busily engaged in making ready for its departure, to the distant haunts of the buffalo. Large droves of horses poured in from every direction. The town rang with noises of all descriptions. Squaws were scolding; children were squalling; pappooses, too young to shift for themselves, like so many little mummies, were suspended in baskets round the inside of the lodges, where they would be out of harm’s way, while their mothers were engaged in packing up. The dogs had probably learned, from disagreeable experience, that this was one of the ill-humoured seasons of the tribe. Many of them had withdrawn to a short distance in the prairie, where they sat, demurely waiting till the bustle should be finished, and good humour restored to the town. The warriors laid aside their usual indolence, and assisted their wives in loading the horses. The only idlers in the town were children and old men. The first stood in droves, looking on, equally aware with the dogs, of the souring effect of all this bustle upon the tempers of the grown-up portion of the community; and equally cautious in avoiding all contact with them. The last strolled up and down; kicking every stray cur they chanced to meet, and bellowing out advice to all who chose to listen.

Here and there, a long train, who had finished their labours, were slowly wending their way, over the western hills, towards the wished-for hunting grounds. A long suite of dogs lounged after them, and disappeared, with them, behind the distant ridges.

As one family after another dropped off, the town began to wear a lonely air. Wild and uncouth as were its inhabitants, we had formed a companionship with them. When, however, we entered their lodges, found the fires extinguished, the buildings stripped, and silence and solitude reigning where we had been greeted with kind looks and smiling faces, we experienced a dreary feeling, which increased our desire to be once more on the wing towards our still distant goal.