“The old chief smiled, with an air of grim satisfaction, as he observed the effect produced upon us by his warriors; then, raising his voice, he joined in the wild _mêlée_ around us. Horse dashed against horse, as the band swept onward in a large circle. Some were hurled from their seats; others clung to the manes of the maddened horses. The strong poured down upon the weak, and brushed them from their paths. Ever and anon, some little pepper-spirited horse, vexed with the hustling, would pause to discharge his heels into the ribs of his next neighbour; but before it could be done, the crowd would pass on, and he would be borne forward, in the rushing course of the whirlpool. No one regarded his neighbour; each was under the influence of a mad excitement. A giant Indian was dashing around, upon a horse as powerful as himself, at the inner verge of the ring. In front of him was another, on a little nag, who kept near the border for safety. Suddenly they came in contact. The powerful steed swept onward as if he had met with no obstacle. The little horse spun out of his path, and his rider threw a somerset in the air, landing in the very midst of the throng. Fifty hoofs clattered over his head; but he scrambled out, caught his horse, bounded on his back with a whoop and a flourish of his tomahawk, and pursued his course as if nothing had happened.
“After this scene of hubbub and confusion had continued for about fifteen minutes, the crowd gradually ceased its clamor, and formed in a large circle round us, with their horses’ heads towards the party. Presently the ring broke, and was extended in two lines, through which a band of about thirty warriors slowly advanced, to a long, solemn chant, sung by the whole troop, and accompanied by a kind of drum. This band was formed of the flower of the Indian village. None were admitted except those who could boast of having taken a certain number of scalps, or of having performed an equally honorable service in stealing a large number of horses.” In this manner was the commissioner welcomed to the Indian village.
A singular story is related by the writer of the above extract, respecting one of the braves of the Otoes. “One squaw attracted our attention, from her gigantic height. As we approached her, there was a masculine coarseness in the features of her face, which rendered her hideously ugly, and formed a contrast highly in favor of the group around her. We afterwards learned that this strange being, though now clad in the garb of a female, and performing the most menial of their offices, was in reality a man, and had once ranked among the proudest braves of the Otoe nation. His name had once stood foremost in war and in council. He had led on many an expedition against their noble, but bitter foes, the Osages. In the midst of his bright career, a change came over him. The cause was this. He had been for several weeks absent upon a war expedition against the enemies of his tribe. At a little before sunset, on a fine afternoon, this band of Indians were seen coming over the hills, returning towards their village. The troop of way-worn warriors counted less than when they started; but their bundle of scalps, and their fierce brows, declared that their lost comrades had been avenged. In front of them strode the form of the giant brave. He was wearied with toil and fasting, and, without staying to receive the greetings of his fellow-townsmen, he hastened to his lodge and threw himself upon one of the bear-skins which form an Indian bed.