I rode in company with three or four young Indians at the rear, and the moving swarm stretched before me, in the ruddy light of sunset, or in the deep shadow of the mountains far beyond my sight.  It was an ill-omened spot they chose to encamp upon.  When they were there just a year before, a war party of ten men, led by The Whirlwind’s son, had gone out against the enemy, and not one had ever returned.  This was the immediate cause of this season’s warlike preparations.  I was not a little astonished when I came to the camp, at the confusion of horrible sounds with which it was filled; howls, shrieks, and wailings were heard from all the women present, many of whom not content with this exhibition of grief for the loss of their friends and relatives, were gashing their legs deeply with knives.  A warrior in the village, who had lost a brother in the expedition; chose another mode of displaying his sorrow.  The Indians, who, though often rapacious, are utterly devoid of avarice, are accustomed in times of mourning, or on other solemn occasions, to give away the whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves to nakedness and want.  The warrior in question led his two best horses into the center of the village, and gave them away to his friends; upon which songs and acclamations in praise of his generosity mingled with the cries of the women.

On the next morning we entered once more among the mountains.  There was nothing in their appearance either grand or picturesque, though they were desolate to the last degree, being mere piles of black and broken rocks, without trees or vegetation of any kind.  As we passed among them along a wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by the side of a younger squaw, to whom he was addressing various insinuating compliments.  All the old squaws in the neighborhood watched his proceedings in great admiration, and the girl herself would turn aside her head and laugh.  Just then the old mule thought proper to display her vicious pranks; she began to rear and plunge most furiously.  Raymond was an excellent rider, and at first he stuck fast in his seat; but the moment after, I saw the mule’s hind-legs flourishing in the air, and my unlucky follower pitching head foremost over her ears.  There was a burst of screams and laughter from all the women, in which his mistress herself took part, and Raymond was instantly assailed by such a shower of witticisms, that he was glad to ride forward out of hearing.

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shouting to me.  He was pointing toward a detached rocky hill that stood in the middle of the valley before us, and from behind it a long file of elk came out at full speed and entered an opening in the side of the mountain.  They had scarcely disappeared when whoops and exclamations came from fifty voices around me.  The young men leaped from their horses, flung down their heavy buffalo robes, and ran at full speed toward the foot of the nearest mountain.  Reynal also broke away at a gallop in the same direction, “Come on! come on!” he called to us.  “Do you see that band of bighorn up yonder?  If there’s one of them, there’s a hundred!”