not,
however, present itself until long after peace had been established
with the white men, when the Utahs and Apaches had been able to
recover from their losses and collect again.

War party after war party of Cheyennes and Arrapahoes entered the
country of their old enemies the Apaches and Utahs, but returned
unable to find them. Yellow Bear, a head war chief of the Arrapahoes,
did not accompany his braves on these expeditions, and he would
not believe that they could not find either the Apaches or Utahs;
therefore, to show his people that there was one warrior living of the
olden stamp, he started, accompanied only by his youngest squaw,
to meet and fight them. A severe snow-storm compelled this noble
chieftain to come into Fort Massachusetts. While he was there the
commanding officer of the post endeavored to dissuade him from his
rash undertaking. In reply the chief said:

"Captain, my young men are no longer warriors. They have become
squaws. I sent them to seek our nation's enemies. They went,
discovered their fires and counted their lodges, but were afraid to
attack them. I am now on my way to find the Utah village, where I
intend, either to smoke the pipe of peace, or offer fight to any three
of their chiefs. If they kill me otherwise than fairly, perhaps it
will stir up once more the fire in the breast of the warriors of the
Arrapahoe nation."

This speech was delivered with so much pathos, and yet with such
an oratorical air, that the interpreter was enabled to catch and
translate every word of it. Yellow Bear was now informed of the recent
campaign against the Utahs and Apaches, but the news made no change in
his determination. The advice was words thrown away, as he was found
conversant with the whole proceedings of the campaign. We have brought
in this incident to show how surrounding tribes are directly affected
and personally interested in the results of all military transactions
with hostile Indians. As we have taken up for a theme the story of
this brave and really noble Indian, it may prove interesting to some
of our readers if we complete the picture. Yellow Bear has always
been the firm friend of Kit Carson both by word and action. He is the
finest specimen of an Indian that the writer ever laid eyes on. He
stands in his moccasins over six feet; is straight and symmetrically
proportioned. The head, however, is the main attraction of this
Indian. Never was a statesman possessed of a better. We o