not much astonish
me. I knew that, to the Utah, the medicine weapon is no longer a
mystery. Here and there, hides freshly flayed were pegged out upon the
grass, with squaws kneeling around them, engaged in the operation of
graining. Girls, with water-tight baskets, poised upon the crown of the
head, were coming from or going towards the stream. Men stood in
groups, idly chatting, or squatted upon the turf, playing at games of
chance. Boys were busy at their bow-practice; and still younger
children rolled their naked bodies over the grass, hugging half-grown
puppies--the companions of their infant play. Troops of dogs trotted
among the tents; while a mixed herd of horses, mules, sheep, goats, and
asses browsed the plain at a little distance from the camp. Such was
the _coup d'oeil_ that presented itself to my gaze, as we rode up to the
Utah encampment.

As might be expected, our arrival caused a change in the occupation of
everybody. The dicers leaped to their feet--the squaws discontinued
their work, and flung their scrapers upon the skins. "_Ti-ya_!" was the
exclamation of astonishment that burst from hundreds of lips. Children
screamed, and ran hiding behind their dusky mothers; dogs growled and
barked; horses neighed; mules hinnied; asses brayed; while the sheep and
goats joined their bleating to the universal chorus. "On to the chief's
tent!" counselled my companion, gliding to the ground, and preceding me
on foot, "Yonder! the chief himself--Wa-ka-ra!"

An Indian of medium size and perfect form, habited in a tunic of
embroidered buckskin, leggings of scarlet cloth, head-dress of coloured
plumes, with crest that swept backward and drooped down to his heels. A
gaily striped _serape_, suspended scarf-like over the left shoulder,
with a sash of red China crape wound loosely around the waist, completed
a costume more picturesque than savage. A face of noble type, with an
eye strongly glancing, like that of an eagle; an expression of features
in no way fierce, but, like the dress, more gentle than savage; a
countenance, in repose mild--almost to meekness. Such saw I.

Had I known the man who stood before me, I might have remarked how
little this latter expression corresponded with his real character. Not
that he was cruel, but only famed for warlike prowess. I was face to
face with the most noted war-chief of America: whose name, though new to
me, was at that moment dreaded from Oregon to Arispe, from t