174 BUFFALO LAND. 



Two or three of the Indians mounted their ponies 

 and took a race through the streets. The animals were 

 thin, despondent brutes, but as wiry as if their hides 

 were stuffed, like patent mattresses, full of springs. 

 The Indians, as is their universal custom, mounted 

 from the right side, instead of the left as we do. At 

 the lower end of the street they got as nearly in line 

 as their inebriated condition would permit, and when 

 the word was given set off toward us with frightful 

 shouts, which made the ponies scamper like so many 

 frightened cats. 



The animal which came out ahead had no rider 

 to claim the honors, that blanketed jockey having 

 fallen off midway. He was now sitting on his hams, 

 looking the wrong way down the track, and evi- 

 dently adding up the " book" which he had made 

 for the race. As he soon arose, with a dissatisfied 

 grunt, we thought his figures probably read about 

 as follows : 



Given — A gallon of Hays whisky in the saddle, 

 and a race-horse under it. Endeavor to divide the 

 latter by a rawhide whip, and the result is a sore- 

 headed Indian, who stands forfeit to his peers for 

 "the drinks." 



As we wandered back to the council-chamber, the 

 scene there had chansred somewhat. White Wolf 

 had been transformed into a cavalry colonel, and 

 was strutting around with two gilt eagles on his 

 broad shoulders, looking fully as important as many 

 a real colonel whom we have caught in his pin 

 feathers and, withal, much more of the hero. Our 

 warrior had seen some of the officers from the fort 



