Shortly after breakfast was out of the way, Kate, who was on the veranda, feeding the mocking-birds, came rushing into the sitting-room, crying, "The Pawnees are coming; I can hear their tom-toms beating; they will soon be here!" All the family went out, and sure enough, there were the Indians all dressed up in feathers, and painted in every imaginable savage manner. White Wolf had a row of white dots on one cheek, flanked on each side by a streak of vermilion, while the other was green and blue. He had on a war bonnet with eagle feathers sticking in it around the upper edge, making it look like a grotesque crown. Down his back dragged a long trail of buffalo hair plaited into his own, and at every few inches for its whole length (it reached the ground when he walked) there were fastened bright metal disks nearly as big as the top of a tomato can. Around his wrists were a dozen or more brass rings, and on his bare ankles he wore as many rings of the same material. He had an embroidered buffalo robe thrown gracefully over his shoulders, half concealing his coat of beaded buckskin. His leggings were of the same stuff, and were also gayly decorated with colored porcupine quills deftly woven in them. The other warriors were similarly dressed and painted, but wore only one eagle feather in their bonnets, which was the distinguishing feature between them and their chief. Following the warriors were the boys of the band, each riding a pony, and leading others which had been wagered on the race. The race animals were ridden by their owners, and came after all the others; among them was the wild coal-black stallion that White Wolf had captured on the Cimarron. He looked like himself now, as he proudly pranced along, his mouth frothing as he champed on his rawhide bit, and his neck arched as he stepped like a thoroughbred over buffalo-grass turf leading to the house. Several of the warriors had tom-toms in front of them, which they were beating vigorously with a stick as they rode proudly along. The tom-toms, or drums, are made of tanned buffalo hide stretched over a willow hoop, and the sound resembles that of a drum, but as the pounding is simply a continuous series of strokes without any variation, it is not music, but a very monotonous noise. When the band had arrived at the house the Indians dismounted, and after a series of "Hows?"--their customary salutation--to the family on the veranda, they dismounted and began to converse among themselves in an excited manner. Presently one of the warriors started on a run toward the creek. He soon returned with some sticks, and then he and another warrior began to mark out the course. This took them some time, and while they were at the work, the boys who were to ride the race began to cinch up their buffalo-hide saddles, and prepare themselves for the impending struggle.