There was a look of comic slyness lurking around the eyes of this chief, united with an irascible twinkle, which bespoke a character habitually good natured, but prone to occasional gusts of passion. The most prominent feature of his face, however, had suffered mutilation. The end of his nose was wanting. I was curious to learn, whether this singular wound had been received in battle or private brawl; and my inquiries made me acquainted with a curious tale of Indian revenge. There are a dozen different versions of the story, in circulation among the traders and trappers; but as far as I could ascertain, the following is the most correct. CHAP. XV. THE IOTAN AND HIS BROTHER, OR INDIAN REVENGE. It was some years before the Iotan had reached the rank of a chief, that he was despoiled of his nose in the following manner:— Several Otoe Indians, by dint of paying fifty times their value, had become possessed of a number of kegs of whiskey. As this was rather a rarity, a council was called, and a general carousal of the male portion of the village resolved upon. The females were excluded: it being deemed necessary that they should remain sober, to exercise a conjugal care over their husbands, when so inebriated as to be unable to take care of themselves. In the mean time, a person was appointed as guard, whose business it was to keep watch over the liquor, and drive off all interlopers, who might be inclined to test its quality before the time appointed. After three long, and to them lingering days, the time came round; and at the appointed hour not a soul was behindhand. The signal was given, and the revel commenced. As the liquor began to work upon the passions of the revellers, they grew furious. They howled, yelled, and fought. The females fled from the building. All weapons had been removed beforehand; for they knew their own ungovernable nature, when under the influence of liquor, and, therefore, had taken precautions to prevent the occurrence of mischief. But when the whiskey commenced its work, the savage was changed to a demon, and the lodge resounded with their screams and howling; there was a hell within its bosom. The giant warrior fixed his gripe upon the trembling frame of the aged; brother smote brother; friends fought with bitter fury, and the weak and decrepit were trampled under foot. It was in this stage of the riot that the Iotan and his brother had a furious scuffle. They grappled and rolled upon the ground. In the frenzy of strife and intoxication, his brother bit off the end of his nose, and instantly extricating himself, rushed out of the lodge.