In a few days we reached open prairies; the mountains to the west seemed here much farther off, and resembled blue clouds. These were the mountain chains in which Santa Fé lies, and whence annually enormous sums of silver are sent to Mexico; on the eastern side they are bordered by rich boundless prairies, while their western slopes are washed by the Rio Grande. On these plains we found vegetation more advanced, and though the fresh grass was not enamelled by such a varied flora as the prairies on the Leone at this season, still we saw around us several pretty flowers, which offered an agreeable variety to the eye. Small knolls and bushes, as well as clumps of trees, frequently broke the dead level and saved the eye from resting on an indistinct horizon. At the same time these plains were enlivened by an extraordinary number of buffaloes, large herds of wild horses, antelopes, and deer; so that at every moment the hunter's straying eye rested on something to interest him. We marched for eight days due north, during which time we crossed many rivers flowing to the east, and came across hunting-Indian tribes repeatedly. One night we camped with a party of Shawnees, whose chief was called Greengrass, and who behaved in the most friendly manner to us. He promised to visit us next winter, and made us a present of several beautifully dressed deer-skins, as he thought we should soon want them. In addition we met Osages, Creeks, Choctaws, and a small tribe of Pawnees: the latter displayed unfriendly intentions, but as we treated them sternly and resolutely, they soon quitted us. Tiger shouted to them on parting that we could see their scalps at night as well, and so they had better keep away from us. The Pawnees are the most warlike tribe among the Northern Indians, are splendid riders, have first-rate horses, and live between the Platte and Missouri rivers; in proportion to the other northern tribes, they are armed with but few firearms, but use the lance and lasso with remarkable skill. At the sources of the northern arm of Canadian River we crossed the path, which runs from Santa Fé to Fort Bent, on the Arkansas, and thence to Fort Leavenworth, on the Missouri, and a few days after crossed another road, running from Independence, on the Missouri, _viâ_ Taos in New Mexico, to St. Francisco and Saint Fé. The country here became very hilly; the vegetation had scarce sprouted, and the nights were cold. Our cattle were badly off here, for grass was scanty, the roads very stony and covered with loose boulders of red granite, which hurt their bare feet, and they also suffered severely at night from the cold. We now began to feel the loss of our coffee, which lay buried between the mountains with Sam, and we equally missed on these cold nights the brandy which had shared the same fate. In a few days, however, we shook off these habits, and our meals did not taste the worse without these articles of luxury.