"Gradually, as we rode on, Indian after Indian came dropping along, laden with meat; and by the time we had neared the lodges, the backward road was covered with the returning horsemen. It was a pleasant contrast with the desert road we had been traveling. Several had joined company with us, and one of the chiefs invited us to his lodge. The village consisted of about one hundred and twenty-five lodges, of which twenty were Cheyennes; the latter pitched a little apart from the Arapahoes. They were disposed in a scattering manner on both sides of a broad, irregular street, about one hundred and fifty feet wide, and running along the river. As we rode along, I remarked near some of the lodges a kind of tripod frame, formed of three slender poles of birch, scraped very clean, to which were affixed the shield and spear, with some other weapons of a chief. All were scrupulously clean, the spear-head was burnished bright, and the shield white and stainless. It reminded me of the days of feudal chivalry; and when, as I rode by, I yielded to the passing impulse, and touched one of the spotless shields with the muzzle of my gun, I almost expected a grim warrior to start from the lodge and resent my challenge. The master of the lodge spread out a robe for me to sit upon, and the squaws set before us a large wooden dish of buffalo meat. He had lit his pipe in the mean while, and when it had been passed around, we commenced our dinner while he continued to smoke. Gradually, five or six other chiefs came in, and took their seats in silence. When we had finished, our host asked a number of questions.... A storm had been gathering for the past hour, and some pattering drops on the lodge warned us that we had some miles to our camp.... We found our companions under some densely foliaged old trees, about three miles up the river.... Nearly opposite was the mouth of one of the most considerable affluents of the South fork, _la Fourche aux Castors_, (Beaver fork,) heading off in the ridge to the southeast." (Fremont, (1), pp. 29-30.) This would have been near the eastern boundary of the present Morgan County, Colorado, a region approaching the western edge of the great prairie, in the midst of the range of vast herds of buffalo. The entire description of the events of the day as prepared by Fremont reads more like fiction than fact and is one of the clearest and most concise accounts extant of a buffalo hunt by native tribes under such conditions. The paintings by Stanley and Wimar, as reproduced in plates 2 and 3, would serve to illustrate Fremont's narrative.