When the party had once commenced its march, it was not long before they reached the point of destination; for though the Indians crowded forward to satisfy their curiosity, they remained at such a distance as to offer no obstacle to our progress. This rule of etiquette was, however, occasionally transgressed by troops of untrimmed, goblin-looking little urchins who hung upon the heels of the party. They crowded around the baggage wagons, and gazed with a mixture of terror and wild delight upon the oxen, who, with lolling tongues and reeling steps, were, almost inch by inch, winning their way to the village. Several times when a circle of little curious faces, anxious to see, but ready to run, had formed around the team, a sharp, shrill scream from some more mischievous of the gang, would in an instant disperse all their rallied courage, and send them scampering at full speed over the prairie. Another grand object of attraction was _the Black Bear_, who trudged in front, surrounded by a rabble crowd of women and children. From the first moment of our arrival he had been an object of intense curiosity, and had been gazed at with a mixture of fear and astonishment by the whole nation. But there is an old saying that “too much familiarity breeds contempt;” and in this case it was verified. By degrees, the circle which formed around him at a respectful distance, became more and more compressed. It was in vain that he attempted to rid himself of their company; they swarmed around him like ants. If he quickened his pace, they did the same; if he lingered, they were equally slow; and if he turned upon them, they scattered in every direction. But after a while, even this wore off, and they finally hemmed him in, so that it was almost impossible to move for the crowd. When they had thus closed upon him, the lurking spirit of mischief began to show itself. They tugged at his coat tail, they pulled his pantaloons, and they jostled him until the perspiration, the effect of fear and exertion, poured in streams down his face. At length one toothless, gray-headed old crone, attracted by the glistening appearance of his black leather cap, made a violent snatch, and seized hold of it. A hot scramble ensued for the prize, which, after much derangement to the wardrobe of the negro, was obtained by the rightful owner. He had no sooner regained his property, than he opened his shirt, and placed it next his bosom. He then buttoned his coat over it up to the chin, evincing his respect to the nation by performing the rest of his journey _uncovered_.