In a former number of our magazine, we gave an incident, extracted from Mr. Catlin’s interesting account of his adventures among the western Indians. We now add another story from the same work. The writer is giving an account of a long journey through the wilds of the far west. “On this journey, while Charley and I were twenty-five days alone, we had much time, and the best of circumstances, under which to learn what we had as yet overlooked in each other’s characters, as well as to draw great pleasure and real benefit from what we already had learned of each other in our former travels. “I generally halted on the bank of some little stream, at half an hour of sunset, where feed was good for Charley, and where I could get wood to kindle my fire, and water for my coffee. The first thing was to undress Charley, and drive down his picket to which he was fastened, to graze over a circle that he could inscribe at the end of his laso. In this wise he busily fed himself until nightfall; and after my coffee was made and drank, I uniformly moved him up, with his picket by my head, so that I could lay my hand upon his laso in an instant, in case of any alarm that was liable to drive him from me. “On one of these evenings, when he was grazing as usual, he slipped the laso over his head, and deliberately took his supper at his pleasure, wherever he chose to prefer it, as he was strolling around. When night approached, I took the laso in hand, and endeavored to catch him; but I soon saw he was determined to enjoy a little freedom; and he continually evaded me until dark, when I abandoned the pursuit, making up my mind that I should inevitably lose him, and be obliged to perform the rest of my journey on foot. He had led me a chase of half a mile or more, when I left him busily grazing, and returned to my little solitary bivouac, and laid myself on my bear-skin and went to sleep. “In the middle of the night I waked, whilst I was lying on my back, and on half opening my eyes, I was instantly shocked to the soul by the huge figure, as I thought, of an Indian, standing over me, and in the very act of taking my scalp! The chill of horror that paralyzed me for the first moment, held me still till I saw that there was no need of moving--that my faithful horse Charley had ‘played shy’ till he had ‘filled his belly,’ and had then moved up, from feelings of pure affection, or from instinctive fear, or possibly from a due share of both, and taken his position with his fore feet at the edge of my bed, with his head hanging directly over me, while he was standing, fast asleep!