There are many people who believe that the Indians, as a race, have been greatly sinned against, and to sustain their views, have called in the assistance of flowery-written romances and the high-sounding language of prose and poetry.  Much of this novelty and interest rubs off by coming in contact with the savage as he really exists.  Admiration often changes, in this case, into distrust and even enmity.  It is natural that this should be so, for mere book-education biases the mind always, either for or against, and therefore, it is not strange that in the far West, we should often meet with men who unhesitatingly declare that the red man, if capable, is unwilling to entertain in his character even one redeeming trait; but, on investigating their individual case, we find that they are but superficial observers who are prone to find fault with everything that does not exactly suit their tastes.  It is necessary to spend a whole life with Indians, in order to judge them without prejudice.  The Great Spirit has endowed his red children with reason, the same in quality as possessed by any other race, but their habits, mode of life and experience is of such a kind, that, when taken, as a whole, they are truly original.  Looking upon this class of people, either in the light of an enthusiast or as a detractor, cannot be otherwise than wrong; for, as is usually the case, the truth lies between the extremes.

To be caught in one of these winter storms on the plains is a very serious affair; and one only needs to have been through a fearful gale on the seas to render him dubious of which to choose.  To the faint heart, death seems inevitable in either case; and, to such a one, a choice between a watery grave or a bed of snow, when hunger and cold are his attendants while life is gradually ebbing out, is a question in which the contrast appears small.  During many of the winter months, a life on the prairies becomes a necessity to the frontiersman and not a pleasure.  The force and power of the winds on the level earth of the far West, are beyond human imagination.  The snow storms there, at the proper period of the year, are terrific in their grandeur.  The quantity of the snow that falls is not so much a matter of notice as the force with which it comes, being almost blinding in its effects and requiring all the physical powers of both man and beast to meet and contend against it.  It but seldom happens, during one of these seasons, that the roads are so blocked up by snow that human ingenuity cannot overcome the obstacle; for the wind drifts the snow, rendering the path clear at intervals which vary in their area.  The poor mail parties are the ones who experience this undesirable life; and, in their attempts to make their journeys, they are often driven near to death’s door, although every precaution is taken to make the transit safe.  The mules of these parties are well protected with india rubber coverings which are lined with blankets,