The sun was glowing with a mellow warmth, upon the prairie; when our train, slowly ascended one of the black, undulating swells, which traverse the whole face of the country. At our feet, lay a great prairie, intersected by a waving thread of timber, which extended for many miles, and was now tinted with the bright and variegated hues of autumn.
The Pawnees stood for a moment upon the top, casting their eyes about them. A shriek rang through the air; so wild, and shrill, that it caused even the most stern to start convulsively, and clutch their bows, while the deep guttural “Ugh” burst from every chest, as they turned towards the Indian, who sent up the cry.
He was standing a little in advance of the party; his slender but muscular frame, bent slightly forward; his form resting firmly upon one foot, while the ball of the other alone touched the ground, as if he had been arrested, in the act of stepping forward. His nostrils were expanded; his teeth slightly bared; his eyes intently fixed in the direction indicated by the extended forefinger of his outstretched arm. The eyes of the whole dusky troop were instantly turned in that direction. They gazed for an instant, and then the prairie sounded with their shrill, appalling yells.
At the foot of the hills, at the distance of about five hundred yards, a small band of Indians were emerging from a wood; their white blankets and glittering gun-barrels, contrasting strongly with the dusky forms, and savage weapons, of our Pawnee companions. For a short space, there was silence, and then arose the second wild shout of the Pawnees, while the hated name of “Konza! Konza! Konza!” burst in a howl from every lip.
The little band in the glen, sent up an answering shout, which though it sounded less loudly, on account of the smallness of their numbers, and the distance which intervened, was still replete with defiance. As they raised their yell, they snatched their rifles from their shoulders, and prepared for the encounter.
Just then a loud whoop was heard, and Wild Horse came rushing up the hill-side which we had just ascended. His long hair streamed in the wind. In his hand, he grasped his bow, and about a dozen arrows. He had heard the answering cry of the Konza, and had snuffed a fight in the wind, with the keen relish of a veteran warrior. His small black eye glittered with joy, as he looked down upon the handful, who had dared to send up a note of defiance. He uttered a wild, exulting laugh, and shaking his war-club with a fierce motion, towards the distant foes, he raised a war-whoop, and waved his men onward.
And now the loud voice of the Iotan chief rose amid the din, calling away his band of Otoes, and summoning them to the top of a neighbouring hill. He was at peace with the Konzas, and had nothing to do in the present strife; it was all the same to him which gained the day; so he coolly drew off his men, and waited to see the result. On an eminence at a short distance, stood the Apollo-like form, and snarling, tiger face of the Long Hair. His robe was thrown over his left arm, while his right, grasping his bow, waved his warriors fiercely forward.
For a very short space, the cloud of Indians hung upon the hill, and then, with one wild cry they swept down upon the devoted band. There was no order of battle; each rushed forward goaded by his own impulses. They raised no farther shout; every feeling seemed now absorbed in the deep, burning thirst for blood. Their adversaries displayed equal alacrity. A loud, fierce shout had answered the war-cry of the Pawnees; then all was silent; they leaped forward, prepared to give cold lead in answer to the feathered shafts of their ruder foes. As they advanced they separated, and extended their front, to prevent their being outflanked. They had now reached within about two hundred yards of each other, when a hesitation was visible in the Pawnee band. They moved slower and slower. One or two stopped, and gazed steadily at their approaching enemies: then they collected in groups, and seemed to consult. Even the Wild Horse, a savage who had revelled in blood from his infancy, dropped his uplifted war-club, and pausing, leaned upon his bow. The Long Hair drew up his haughty form, and, swinging upon his back his quiver, which had before hung in front, folded his arms, and appeared to wait passively for the approach of the opposite band.
A grim smile of scorn had curled the lip of the old Iotan chief, when he first beheld the hesitation in the Pawnee ranks. For, like the chiefs of most of the neighbouring tribes, though he feared the immense hordes which belonged to that nation, yet he most heartily despised every individual of the four villages. There was an apparent acknowledgment of inferiority in this numerous band, thus hesitating to attack the handful, who challenged them to the conflict, which pleased the veteran chief; for in war, his own nation and the Konza, had always been looked upon as equals.