The Pawnees stood for a moment upon the top, casting their eyes about them. A shriek rang through the air; so wild, and shrill, that it caused even the most stern to start convulsively, and clutch their bows, while the deep guttural “Ugh” burst from every chest, as they turned towards the Indian, who sent up the cry. He was standing a little in advance of the party; his slender but muscular frame, bent slightly forward; his form resting firmly upon one foot, while the ball of the other alone touched the ground, as if he had been arrested, in the act of stepping forward. His nostrils were expanded; his teeth slightly bared; his eyes intently fixed in the direction indicated by the extended forefinger of his outstretched arm. The eyes of the whole dusky troop were instantly turned in that direction. They gazed for an instant, and then the prairie sounded with their shrill, appalling yells. At the foot of the hills, at the distance of about five hundred yards, a small band of Indians were emerging from a wood; their white blankets and glittering gun-barrels, contrasting strongly with the dusky forms, and savage weapons, of our Pawnee companions. For a short space, there was silence, and then arose the second wild shout of the Pawnees, while the hated name of “Konza! Konza! Konza!” burst in a howl from every lip. The little band in the glen, sent up an answering shout, which though it sounded less loudly, on account of the smallness of their numbers, and the distance which intervened, was still replete with defiance. As they raised their yell, they snatched their rifles from their shoulders, and prepared for the encounter. Just then a loud whoop was heard, and Wild Horse came rushing up the hill-side which we had just ascended. His long hair streamed in the wind. In his hand, he grasped his bow, and about a dozen arrows. He had heard the answering cry of the Konza, and had snuffed a fight in the wind, with the keen relish of a veteran warrior. His small black eye glittered with joy, as he looked down upon the handful, who had dared to send up a note of defiance. He uttered a wild, exulting laugh, and shaking his war-club with a fierce motion, towards the distant foes, he raised a war-whoop, and waved his men onward. And now the loud voice of the Iotan chief rose amid the din, calling away his band of Otoes, and summoning them to the top of a neighbouring hill. He was at peace with the Konzas, and had nothing to do in the present strife; it was all the same to him which gained the day; so he coolly drew off his men, and waited to see the result. On an eminence at a short distance, stood the Apollo-like form, and snarling, tiger face of the Long Hair. His robe was thrown over his left arm, while his right, grasping his bow, waved his warriors fiercely forward.