INDIANS.—FORT ATKINSON. 
25 
arrived at his burrow; but here the pursuer had posted an accomplice, and the rabbit was forced 
to make another long turn, which he accomplished successfully, darting into his burrow heartily 
cheered by the party, while his pursuers resumed their characteristic look of meanness, sneaking 
away to their covers. The day has been very sultry and cloudy, the scorching sun-rays, how¬ 
ever, occasionally pouring down upon us oppressively. The country over which we rode is undu¬ 
lating, the arid buffalo fields wearing the same uninteresting aspect as yesterday, unrelieved by a 
single tree, except on the distant banks of the Arkansas; and the water collected in pools is 
barely drinkable, either on the road or at our camp. Day’s march, 18 miles. 
July 16.—A ride of IS miles, over a country in all respects like that of yesterday, brought us 
to the Arkansas river, where we found two hundred and eighty lodges of Comanches encamped, 
their horses and mules in large droves grazing far and wide over the river bottom. Hosts of men, 
women, and children immediately surrounded us, as we passed their female sentinels, upon the 
bluff near the river. Some of their chief men accompanied us to camp, out of courtesy and 
respect to the party and government, liberal presents being expected in return. Camp was pitched 
a mile west of Fort Atkinson, where we found an abundance of grass, but were indebted to 
Major Chilton, 1st Dragoons, commanding at the fort, for a supply of fuel for cooking our bacon 
and coffee, the river bank here being even destitute of drift-wood for many miles above and be¬ 
low. The river is unusually high, being from one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards wide; 
and the Indians, in crossing it, are occasionally seen swimming; while two years ago, at this 
season, I am told by officers of the army and others who were then here, that it was necessaxy to 
dig in the bed of the river for water to drink. This sinking of the stream during low stages of 
water is not peculiar to the Arkansas, as is well known, and it is believed that water can be 
found always in abundance by digging in the bed of this stream. Opposite to our camp, on the 
southern bank of the river, the old men and the women and children of the Kioways are encamped, 
their warriors having joined the Cheyennes, the Arrapahoes, and the Jicarilla Apaches, with a 
few Comanches and others, in a war party, which it is boasted is to “wipe out the Pawnees.” 
The Comanches are anxiously awaiting the arrival of Major Fitzpatrick, Indian agent, from whom 
they expect large presents, after having made a treaty. Our camp is constantly thronged with 
them, and though anxious to purchase horses, we have entirely failed in persuading them to sell 
us even a half-dozen. Shaved Head, with some of his principal men, paid us a visit just as 
Captain Gunnison and myself were dining. Blankets were spread for them in front of the Cap¬ 
tain’s tent, and they did ample justice to the fare spread before them—carrying off, as usual, 
what they could not eat at the time. After the usual amount of talk, smoking and ceremony, they 
took their leave, which, with Shaved Head—the principal chief of the Comanches of the Plains—is 
a peculiar ceremony which he extends to all whom he esteems or deems of importance. He as¬ 
sumes an air of gravity and solemnity of features I have never seen equalled by more civilized 
performers, and taking you by the right hand, gives three shakes as slow and deliberate as the 
time to a funeral dirge, pressing your hand with a firm grasp, and looking steadily in your eye; 
releasing your hand, he passess his arm through yours to the elbow, and thus facing in opposite 
directions he presses your arm firmly to his side; then the left arms perform the same measured 
functions; and during the whole of this leave-taking he repeats, “bueno,” “mucho bueno,” wilh 
a grave accent. Among those who came to camp we observed two or three Mexicans and others, 
who at some early period of their lives have been captured and are now slaves of these bands. 
Among them were a brother and sister, of perhaps ten years of age, but I think much younger. 
These children are said to have been left destitute upon the Plains by the death of their parents, 
and to have been several years with these bands, who found them in their destitute condition and 
have since provided for their wants. However much our sympathy must be diminished by the 
knowledge that these children have not, from early childhood, perhaps, known the mild, gentle, and 
improving kindness and instruction of civilized parents and society, and that now they are little 
ess savage than their masters, it is not the less humiliating to see that the arm which this 
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