wild-cock was crowing in the woods, the thousand choristers of the
forest were pealing in rich harmony, when the Osage warriors awoke.
They smiled grimly on one another, and then started, each man
mechanically placing his hand upon the back and crown of his head.
Their scalp locks, helmet crests, and eagles' plumes had all
disappeared. Petrified with astonishment, they started to their feet.
Who could have done so daring a deed? Not an enemy surely, or they
would have taken the lives thus placed within their power. The
friends wasted their thoughts in vain conjecture, and then, burning
with indignation, turned to seek their horses. The long sweeping
tails of these animals had also been cut off. That it was the Pawnee
Picts, they no longer doubted; and fearful was the ire of the Osages
at the contempt with which they had been treated. The trail of their
night visitors was plainly marked, and led towards a copse, where
they had evidently left their horses. It then turned to the
river-bank, and was lost. Nah-com-e-shee, however, glancing his eye
over the opposite plain, gave a cry of delight, and pointed out to
his companions the flashing of spears in the morning sun.

To plunge into the river, to reach the other shore, and to ride madly
over the plain in chase of their audacious foes, was the work of an
instant. In vain, however, they strained their eyes to catch another
glimpse of the retreating party, until again the flashing of the
spear-heads was seen near at hand, and plunging over the next
hillock, the friends found themselves in presence of--three lances
stuck in the ground. If the Indians boiled with passion before, their
rage now knew no bounds: they vowed, with little consideration for
the possibility or probability of the matter, to exterminate every
Pawnee Pict from the face of the earth. This resolution being
unanimous, a halt was made, and a council of war held. Some ten
minutes were passed in discussion, and then away went the Osages on
the trail of their foes, just as they caught sight, in the rear, of a
perfect cloud of horsemen pouring over the plain in the distance. It
was a war-party of the Pawnee Picts, about twenty of whom came riding
fast in pursuit of the three friends. A thickly-wooded ravine lay
about a mile distant. Towards this the Osages hastened for refuge,
their souls bounding with delight at the prospect of a contest which
now opened before them.

The ravine was soon reached. It was nar