On the following day, after passing the grave by the two trees, we drove thirteen miles. As we were slowly moving along in the afternoon over the heavy sands and up a long but rather gentle slope, we suddenly observed two wagons with mule teams approaching from the west, the animals being driven at the top of their speed under the lash of the drivers. On discovering us, the drivers motioned in an agitated manner toward Fred and me who were riding on horseback, indicating that they wished us to halt. We accordingly stopped the train and awaited their arrival. They at once reported a large band of Indians approaching. Having seen the Indians in the distance, the drivers had quickly turned their teams, and were endeavoring to escape from possible trouble. We all deemed it prudent to remain near where we were, and await the arrival of the band which was reported to be following the trail. It soon began to appear over the crest of the hill and much to our satisfaction was evidently not a war party. It was an Indian village on horseback, consisting of several hundred Sioux with their families and the ordinary equipment of Indian lodges, which were being transported upon several hundred horses and ponies. There is ordinarily little to fear from such a body, as Indians are not inclined to make trouble when there is danger to their wives and papooses, although the average Indian squaw doubtless shared the passion of her chief in time of war and was accustomed to strife and bloodshed. In many of their battles, when the prospect of an Indian victory seems certain, the squaws and children are placed at some point of vantage, to witness the sport and the tortures. This was notably true in the attack of Roman Nose, with one thousand warriors, on Forsythe's little band on the so-called Island of Death in the Arrikaree River, in that year. The squaws took a safe position on the bluffs, as did the matrons in the days of Rome's glory, when they witnessed the brutal contests in the Coliseum. We had courteously driven out a short distance from the trail to give the Indians a free passage. Our horses seemed not pleased with the appearance of the strange cavalcade, for they reared and plunged in an effort to escape. Hitching our saddle horses to wagons, Ben, Fred and I stopped close to the trail, and each of us courteously and fearlessly as possible saluted one after another of this band as they passed, with the familiar word, "How." Not even a grunt or motion came in return for our salutation. Their eyes were turned toward us as they passed, but, to use a society phrase, they cut us and turned us down. All appeared to be glum, sullen and disgruntled, and we were happy to see them move on at a steady pace.