paths, where the buffalo issue twice a day in regular procession down
to drink in the Platte. The river itself runs through the midst, a thin
sheet of rapid, turbid water, half a mile wide, and scarce two feet
deep. Its low banks for the most part without a bush or a tree, are of
loose sand, with which the stream is so charged that it grates on
the teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, dreary and
monotonous enough, and yet the wild beasts and wild men that frequent
the valley of the Platte make it a scene of interest and excitement to
the traveler. Of those who have journeyed there, scarce one, perhaps,
fails to look back with fond regret to his horse and his rifle.

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte, a long procession of
squalid savages approached our camp. Each was on foot, leading his horse
by a rope of bull-hide. His attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture
and an old buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which hung
over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, except a ridge of hair
reaching over the crown from the center of the forehead, very much like
the long bristles on the back of a hyena, and he carried his bow and
arrows in his hand, while his meager little horse was laden with dried
buffalo meat, the produce of his hunting. Such were the first specimens
that we met--and very indifferent ones they were--of the genuine savages
of the prairie.

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encountered the day before, and
belonged to a large hunting party known to be ranging the prairie in the
vicinity. They strode rapidly past, within a furlong of our tents,
not pausing or looking toward us, after the manner of Indians when
meditating mischief or conscious of ill-desert. I went out and met them;
and had an amicable conference with the chief, presenting him with
half a pound of tobacco, at which unmerited bounty he expressed much