No bugle echoed through the woodlands wild as a signal for the chase to commence, nor well-trained dogs, with the lead-hound barking fiercely from the excitement of a fresh trail which indicated a near approach to game. Their captain, to whom real buffalo-hunts on the boundless prairies are no novelty, led the van, followed by four painted, gaily-dressed, full-rigged Indians. They all rode as though their homes were in the saddle, and swiftly as if bright visions of fleet-footed game were feeding in green fields, only waiting to be captured by being shot at with their well-aimed arrows. They made some fine exhibitions of horsemanship, peculiar to their methods of warfare and hunting. In riding, they described circles, as if surrounding a foe in ambush, at the same time discharging their arrows, at a distance of two hundred yards, with great accuracy, while their horses were running at full speed. Their arrows perforated a small building, which they used as a target, penetrating so far they could not be removed without being broken. Gathered in groups outside the fort, near the hunting-ground, were many boys and young men of the more daring class, who displayed their bravery by a foot-race which put Weston, or any other walker, in the shade, whenever the buffalo looked toward them. Every thing was a success, except the buffalo, which was a small steer, that would not scare on any account. He was entirely too gentle for the fever-heat of excitement to which the feelings and imagination of the crowd had been wrought up. He shook his head once or twice, and started as though he might create a sensation, but would not keep far enough ahead for the hunters to make any thing like a good charge on him. Finally an arrow, sped from the bow of White Horse, pierced his vitals to the depth of four or five inches, killing him instantly. His throat was then cut, after which he was dressed and hauled into the fort, where ample preparations were made for his reception, with immense fires and kettles of hot water. Some of the Indians ate the heart and liver raw, which process did not look very appetizing to a delicate stomach. They always cook their food before eating it when in their native wilds, except the heart and liver, which they sometimes consume as a medicine. At a given signal among themselves, those not engaged in cooking commenced dancing. In their movements the poetry of music, or motion, has no votaries; but a slight approach toward it is made, as they all take the Grecian bend, and keep it, while going through their gyrations. When weary they group together around the fires, turning their right foot on the side, and seating themselves with an ease no studied art could teach them, and then they rest more free from care than the heart that beats beneath ermine, or reclines on velvet cushions. When their meat was cooked they terminated the day's exercise with a feast, which they all seemed to