The chief of the Pawnee Republican village, after lingering with us till the last moment, started forward across the river. In the dim distance we could perceive his flake-white horse skimming like a bird over the crests of the hills. Now he disappeared in their deep, undulating hollows, now he again flashed for an instant on the eye as he passed over the brow of some more distant ridge. He was pushing forward to reach his village, and marshal his warriors. In about half an hour, the soldiers returned, driving in the horses, and commenced saddling them for the march. In the meantime, those Indians who had promised horses on the first day of our meeting, brought them up. A young Indian first came forward, and led up a bright, jet-black mare—after him followed another, holding in his hand a long buffalo tug, or halter, which restrained the wild motions of a two years’ old colt. His colour was snowy white, here and there broken with spots of brown. He had been caught wild from the prairies but a few weeks before. He was a slave, but he had never been mounted—his back had never bent to a burden. They led him up in his own native wildness—his tail stood out—his ears were pricked up—his eyes starting—his nostrils expanded—and every hair of his long mane seemed almost erect with an undefinable feeling of terror. At one moment he dashed swiftly around at the full stretch of the long tug which secured him—then pausing, and shaking his long mane over his head, he fixed the gaze of his almost bursting eyes upon his captor. Then raising his head, and casting a long, lingering, and almost despairing gaze upon the hills of the prairie, which till then had been his home, he made a desperate leap forward, dragging to the ground the Indian who held the end of his halter. Others, however, rushed to his assistance, and held him in. The crowd then attempted to close round him, but he reared upon his hind legs, and kept them at bay, with rapid and powerful blows of his fore feet. At length a young Indian who was standing near, threw off his robe and crept cautiously towards the animal from behind. With a sudden leap he bounded upon his back, and seized the tug, which was secured in his mouth. Before this, the efforts of the animal had been violent; but when he felt the burden upon his back—when he felt the curbing hand of his rider—he sent up a shrill and almost frantic scream—he bounded in the air like a wild-cat—he reared, he plunged, but in vain; his rider was a master hand, and retained his seat as unmoved as if he had constituted part of the animal itself. He curbed him in—he lashed him with his heavy whip, until he crouched like a dog upon the prairie. His spirit was crushed; and the last spark of freedom was extinguished. Shortly after, one of the hunters came up and tied a pack upon his back. He made no resistance, and they led him off with the rest, to finish his days in drudgery and toil.