When we first noticed them, we discerned two or three white spots, which Gabriel and I mistook for flags; a nearer view convinced us that they were young colts.

We continued our route.  The sun had scarcely risen when we arrived on the shore of the river, which was lined with hundreds of canoes, each carrying green branches at their bows and white flags at their sterns.  Shortly afterwards, several chiefs passed over to our side, and invited all our principal chiefs to come over to the village and talk to the Pawnee Picts, who wished to remain brothers with their friends—­the Comanches.  This was consented to, and Gabriel, Roche, and I accompanied them.  This village was admirably protected from attack on every side; and in front, the Red River, there clear and transparent, rolls its deep waters.  At the back of the village, stony and perpendicular mountains rise to the height of two thousand feet, and their ascent is impossible, except by ladders and ropes, or where steps have been cut into the rock.

The wigwams, one thousand in number, extend, for the space of four miles, upon a beautiful piece of rich alluvial soil in a very high state of cultivation; the fields were well fenced and luxuriant with maize, pumpkins, melons, beans, and squashes.  The space between the mountains and the river, on each side of the village, was thickly planted with close ranks of prickly pear, impassable to man or beast, so that the only way in which the Pawnees could be attacked was in front, by forcing a passage across the river, which could not be effected without a great loss of life, as the Pawnees are a brave people and well supplied with rifles, although in their prairie hunts they prefer to use their lances and their arrows.

When we entered the great council lodge, the great chief, Wetara Sharoj, received us with great urbanity, assigned to us places next to him, and gave the signal for the Pawnee elders to enter the lodge.  I was very much astonished to see among them some white men, dressed in splendid military uniforms; but the ceremonies having begun, and it being the Indian custom to assume indifference, whatever your feelings may be, I remained where I was.  Just at the moment that the pipe-bearer was lighting the calumet of peace, the venerable Pawnee chief advanced to the middle of the lodge, and addressed the Comanches:—­

“My sight is old, for I have seen a hundred winters, and yet I can recognize those who once were friends.  I see among you Opishka Koaki (the White Raven), and the leader of a great people; Pemeh-Katey (the Long Carbine), and the wise Hah-nee (the Old Beaver).  You are friends, and we should offer you at once the calumet of peace, but you have come as foes; as long as you think you have cause to remain so, it would be mean and unworthy of the Pawnees to sue and beg for what perchance they may obtain by their courage.  Yet the Comanches and the Pawnees have been friends too long a time to fall upon each