One of the most celebrated chiefs of this tribe was Shongmunecuthe,[15] or the Ietan. The following particulars relate to scenes which occurred during a tour of the United States commissioner, in the year 1833. The party were approaching the Otoe village. “The old warrior,” says the narrator, “welcomed us cordially; then, turning round, he rode with us in the direction of the 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 Ietan galloped a few yards in front, and waved his arm, uttering a long, shrill yell. It was answered by a 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 manœuvre; 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 dashed onward, pealing out scream upon scream, brandishing their spears, and whirling their tomahawks around their heads. The old chief was unmoved, and sat like a statue upon his horse. The soldiers who accompanied us, unaccustomed to such an Indian welcome, began to prepare for action. The band had now approached within a hundred yards. We could perceive the flashing eyes of the straining horses, with 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 it might seem that we were lost; yet at that moment, at a signal from Ietan, the wild horde separated, and, whirling round, were enveloped in a cloud of dust.