Here, then, where the Pawnee Fork River from the West emptied into the Great Bend of the Arkansas, was Fort Larned, guarding its section of southwestern Kansas, and the Santa Fé Trail travel to Colorado and New Mexico. Rather similar to Riley was Fort Larned, being constructed partly of stone. It was the agency for the Arapahos and Cheyennes and a few Apaches, who hunted north of it, and for the Kiowas and Comanches, who hunted south of it. Hither the Indians brought in thousands of buffalo robes, to trade for sugar, coffee and cloth and trinkets. It might be expected that camped about Fort Larned would be Indians; but there was not one tipi in sight, except a few rude tents sheltering some half-breeds or squaw-men as they were called—traders and hangers-on. It was reported that up the Pawnee Fork about thirty miles was a winter village under Chief Pawnee Killer of the Sioux and Chief White Horse of the Cheyennes, but the march was not continued here. When the troops went into noon camp outside the post, General Hancock and his staff were met by Agent Wyncoop, of the Arapahos, Cheyennes and Apaches. “The tribes of my agency are peacefully inclined,” proclaimed Major Wyncoop, hotly. Whereas Colonel Leavenworth, standing near, smiled. “They rarely have committed any offences against the laws, and they have been charged with crimes perpetrated by other tribes. They have suffered heavily because of the Kiowas in particular, who are the most turbulent Indians on the plains and deserve punishment more than any others. I have sent runners to the various villages, as requested, and the chiefs have returned word that they will be in for a council on April 10. If the commanding general will wait until then, which is only three days, I am sure that everything will be adjusted satisfactorily.” “We will wait,” remarked General Hancock, tersely. “Colonel Leavenworth, have you anything that you desire to say?” “Nothing more than I have already said, sir,” answered Colonel Leavenworth. “I can only repeat that in my opinion the Kiowas and Comanches are the ones who have been wronged—grossly wronged by having had laid at their doors numerous misdeeds for which the other tribes of this district are responsible and for which they should be severely chastised. Here!” he added. “Here’s Satanta himself. He’ll speak for the Kiowas.” From down the Santa Fé trail were approaching at a gallop a small party of Indians, their blankets and head-dresses tossing in the clear air. Foremost rode a man who might have been a soldier, for he wore a shirt and a sabre; but feathers in his hair announced the Indian. Diverging from the trail, to cross the level sandy sod, at a short distance from the gathering he dismounted, on the edge of camp, and leaving his horse (a superb bay, gaily decorated with paint and trappings), accompanied by the other Indians, also dismounted, he advanced on foot. “Satanta!” ran a murmur; and officers and men stared openly.