The chief of the Otoe village had been apprised of our approach, and had sent this warrior to watch, lest we should come upon the town before it was prepared for our reception. He hung around the tent for some time, saying little; but we could see, that while his face was apparently turned towards the ground, his dark eyes were moving with restless activity in every direction, scanning every action of the party. He remained with us a short time; then having received a few presents for the chiefs and one or two for himself, he caught the end of the buffalo tug, which though secured to the neck of his horse, was long enough to trail twenty feet after him in the grass—and with a sudden jerk brought the animal to him and sprang upon his back. He had scarcely mounted, before another Indian appeared on an opposite hill, and galloped towards us. He exchanged a slight salutation with the first comer, and passing him, shook hands with the guide. There was more cordiality about him, than we had observed in the other, and his face wanted the cold reserve, which marked that of the first. Upon reaching the tent, he immediately signified his intention to remain during the night, and accordingly turned loose the small white horse upon which he rode. Then lighting his pipe, he wrapped his blanket round him, and quietly seated himself near the fire—watching the cook, who was busily engaged in preparing supper. The other, finding what was his intention, started off towards the village, and in a few moments was out of sight. CHAP. XIV. AN OTOE WARRIOR.—THE IOTAN CHIEF. The whole prairie was glowing with the rays of the morning sun when we started for the Otoe village. Our journey lay for the whole distance, along the borders of the Platte. It was a soft golden morning, and the water danced with a very air of happiness, sparkling and bubbling in silver and rainbow brightness, as it scudded along its broad channel. Its surface was studded with islands, teeming with verdure, and tinted with all the various hues of autumn. The birds were piping out their matin hymns, and the fish were splashing sportively beneath their watery covering, sending a thousand silver circlets eddying onward to the shore. The prairie grass was bending beneath the dew-drops, which hung like strings of crystal upon their withering blades.