The plain we crossed stretched many miles in every direction and swept upwards towards the mountains, with snow-capped peaks in the distance. Then we climbed to a broad table-land, which was covered with tussocks of tough wiry grass, and here and there the skulls and bleaching bones of buffalo. When we came to a range of grass-covered hills, I left my place and rode ahead to the summit of a butte to see the line pass. That was many years ago, but in memory, I can still see clearly that primitive procession of Mad Wolf and his redskin followers, as they slowly crossed the summit, their figures sharply outlined against the deep blue sky. Mad Wolf was in the lead, tall and erect, with head thrown proudly back. The venerable head chief, White Calf, rode by his side; he was older than Mad Wolf and was somewhat stooped, his long gray hair falling in waves over his shoulders. The women followed with the sacred travois, its poles crossed in front, high over the horse’s head, and the ends dragging behind on the ground. Then came a group of women helpers in bright-colored clothing. They rode horses with beaded ornaments on heads and breasts, having saddles with deer antlers for pommels and beaded buckskin flaps for the flanks. In the van was a group of warriors with war bonnets of eagle feathers; they carried weapons, also a sacred Lance and a Shield. Their limbs were bare, and their clean copper skins shone in the sunlight. They were a hardy lot, with lithe muscular figures, riding gracefully, with an easy careless air and the haughty military bearing of warriors. Then came many travois laden with baggage, groups of old men and women, children and young girls. The granddaughters of Mad Wolf and White Calf, Anatapsa and Dives-Under-Water, were both astride a pinto horse. Anatapsa rode in front, her long black hair flying in the wind; round her slender waist, a blanket of bright scarlet was fastened by a belt of colored beads. She was pretty and vivacious, continually striking the sides of their old saddle horse with her small moccasined feet. All the time the hands of both girls moved gracefully in the sign language, for Dives-Under-Water was deaf and dumb. I saw a travois with three old squaws, drawn by an aged rawboned horse. When he refused to go farther, the old women dismounted and beat him with ropes; but it was in vain. He stood as if asleep, with eyes closed and head down, oblivious to both their blows and curses. Our procession wound in and out among the grassy hills, until we came to the broad plain chosen by Mad Wolf for the circle camp. It was covered with rich bunch grass, still green from the rains of early summer. On the west side of the plain was Willow Creek, a small trout stream, which was lined with willows and marshy meadows. Toward the east were the open plains, south, a range of grass-covered hills, and north, a ridge with a huge rock near the center.