These horsemen, five in number, were armed with rifles, tomahawks, and machetes. They wore the cotton hunting shirt of the wood rangers fastened round the waist, _mitasses_, or trousers, in two pieces tied at the ankles, fur caps, and Indian mocassins. Still, although this costume was almost identical with that worn by the majority of the Indian tribes, in whom constant contact with the Americans has produced a sort of bastard civilization, it was easy to recognise these riders as white men, not only through the ease of their manners, but also through the clearness of their complexion, which the hot sunbeams had been impotent to render so dusky as that of the aboriginals. About two hundred yards behind the horsemen, came a sixth, mounted and dressed like them, but who was assuredly a Redskin. His head, instead of being covered by a fur cap, was bare; his hair, pulled up at the top of his head, and stained with red ochre, was fastened with strips of snakeskin; a falcon feather stuck in above his right ear, near his war-scalp lock, indicated his claim to high rank among his countrymen, while the numerous wolf tails fastened to his heels, proved that he was a renowned warrior; in his right hand he held a fan made of the entire wing of an eagle, and in his left he waved the short-handled and long-lashed whip, peculiar to the Comanche and Sioux Indians. These riders employed none of the precautions usual on the prairie to avoid surprises, or foil the enemies generally ambushed in the track of hunters. From the way in which they conversed together, and the absent glances they at times took across the country, rather through habit than any prudential motive, it might easily be guessed that these men were reaching a spot perfectly well known to them, and where they felt certain of not falling into a trap. Still, had they not been absorbed in their conversation, and could their glances have pierced the dense curtain of verdure that formed a fragrant wall on their right, they would have seen amid the shrubs and lower branches of the trees an agitation not at all natural, and doubtless produced by the passage of a wild beast; at times, too, they might have noticed two eyes flashing among the leaves, which were fixed upon them with a savage expression of passion and hatred. But, we repeat, these men, who, however, were wood rangers, renowned in these parts for their almost miraculous sagacity and skill, were so completely absorbed in their conversation; they felt so sure of having no snare to apprehend, their eyes and ears were so thoroughly closed, that they appeared blind and deaf, although ordinarily not the slightest noise, or the most futile object escaped their notice, but was analyzed with the searching and investigating spirit of individuals whose life may hang on a false step or a badly calculated movement.