The sun rose cheerily over the tops of the trees on the day following, and we prepared to leave. There was quite an excitement in the garrison. Kind wishes and farewells were exchanged. Many who had been anxious to join the troop, in their journey through this unknown land, now hung round with longing eyes. There was a mystery and shadowy danger, which threw a high excitement around the whole expedition. Nothing was positive about the wild tribes we were to visit. It was known that their numbers were large; it was reported that they were cruel and unsparing in their nature, that they looked upon the whites as their bitterest enemies, and carried on a war of extermination against the whole race. By way of adding to the agreeable excitement, two or three had collected all the tales of murder and bloodshed committed by the Indians since the discovery of America, and poured them into our ears, with a most edifying accompaniment of long faces and evil prophecies. They foretold that we should never again be seen at Leavenworth; or, at all events, that if we did it would be stripped of our scalps. They thought, as these were the most desirable trophies, perhaps the Indians would have the generosity to permit our return, provided we left them behind. These, and many other predictions of an equally comforting nature, were conveyed to us by a number who buzzed around us as we were getting ready. They, however, at last took their leave, not forgetting to give us the rather unnecessary caution, to “take care and not get killed.” It was near mid-day when we set out. Our little cavalcade clattered over the hard walks until we reached the road. Galloping over the prairie, we at length came upon the broad trail left by the heavy baggage waggons, as they had passed through the high grass. A number of the officers accompanied us several miles, but at length they took their leave, and left us to journey onward in our pilgrimage. As long as we were in the garrison, where the busy face of man was seen, where active forms were moving around us, and the every-day concerns of life were going forward, we felt that, though distant from home, we were still connected with society; but when we had started on our journey, and bade farewell to those who had accompanied us, as we watched their forms until they were hid by the distant hills, we felt that the last link was broken, which had hitherto united us to the world and its occupations. It was intended first to strike up in a northerly direction, until we reached the village of the Otoe and Missouria Indians, situated upon the Platte river, about twenty miles north-west of its junction with the Missouri. Thence the Platte was to be our guide, until we came upon the Pawnee towns. They are seated on its banks, some five or six days’ journey further to the westward.