The Pawnee village, at which they soon arrived, was situated in the
midst of a most interesting and picturesque scene.

It occupied an extensive plain which sloped gently down to a creek[*],
whose winding course was marked by a broken line of wood, here and
there interspersed with a fine clump of trees, between the trunks of
which the blue waters of a lake sparkled in the distance. Hundreds of
tents or "lodges" of buffalo-skins covered the ground, and thousands
of Indians--men, women, and children--moved about the busy scene. Some
were sitting in their lodges, lazily smoking their pipes. But these
were chiefly old and infirm veterans, for all the young men had gone
to the hunt which we have just described. The women were stooping over
their fires, busily preparing maize and meat for their husbands and
brothers; while myriads of little brown and naked children romped
about everywhere, filling the air with their yells and screams, which
were only equalled, if not surpassed, by the yelping dogs that seemed
innumerable.

[Footnote *: In America small rivers or rivulets are termed "creeks."]

Far as the eye could reach were seen scattered herds of horses. These
were tended by little boys who were totally destitute of clothing,
and who seemed to enjoy with infinite zest the pastime of
shooting-practice with little bows and arrows. No wonder that these
Indians become expert bowmen. There were urchins there, scarce two
feet high, with round bullets of bodies and short spindle-shanks, who
could knock blackbirds off the trees at every shot, and cut the heads
off the taller flowers with perfect certainty! There was much need,
too, for the utmost proficiency they could attain, for the very