Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

"I am cheerful," said Phil, to whom Breakstone wasalways a tonic, "and I believe that we can beat off theComanches any time and every time."

"Jump on your horse," said Breakstone, a little later;"we're all ready."

Phil leaped into the saddle with one bound. Thetrain moved forward, and he and Breakstone joinedMiddleton and Arenberg at its head. Middleton had powerfulglasses, and he swept the plain far ahead, and to rightand left. His gaze finally settled on a point to thesouth-west. The others followed his look with great interest, but the naked eye could see nothing but the rollinggray-green plains and the dim blue horizon beyond. Middletonlooked so long that at last Bill Breakstone asked:

"What do you see?"

"I do not see anything that I can really call living,"replied Middleton, "but I do see a knoll or slightelevation on the plain-what would be called farther north abutte-and on that knoll is a black blur, shapeless andunnamable at this distance."

"Does the black blur move?" asked Bill Breakstone.

"I cannot tell. It is too far even for that, but fromit comes a beam of brilliant light that shifts here andthere over the plain. Take a look, Bill."

Breakstone eagerly put the glasses to his eyes, andturned them upon the knoll.

"Ah, I see it!" he exclaimed. "It's like a ball oflight! There it goes to the right! There it goes to theleft! Now it falls in our direction! What in the nameof Shakespeare's thirty-five or forty plays is it, Cap?"

"Let me have the glasses, I want another look,"replied Middleton.

His second look was a long one taken in silence. Atlast he replied:

"It's a signal, lads. I've seen the Comanches talk toone another in this way before. A Comanche chief issitting on his horse on top of that knoll. He holds arounded piece of looking-glass in the hollow of his hand, and he turns it in such a way that he catches the veryconcentrated essence of the sun's rays, throwing a beama tremendous distance. The beam, like molten gold, nowstrikes the grass on top of a swell off toward the north.It's a secret just how they do it, for not yet has anywhite man learned the system of signals which they makewith such a glass. Ah!"

The "Ah!" came forth, so deep, so long drawn, andso full of meaning that Phil, Arenberg, and BillBreakstone exclaimed together:

"What is it?"

"I would not have known that the black blur on topof the knoll was a chief on horseback if I had not beenon the Texas plains before," replied Middleton, "butnow I can make out the figures of horse and man, as heis riding around and around in a circle and riding veryrapidly."

"What does that mean?" asked Phil.

"It means danger, not to us, but to the Comanches.The warrior is probably signaling to a band of his tribewho are meditating attack upon us that we are toostrong."

"Then it must be some fresh band," said Bill Breakstone,"because the one that had the little encounter withus yesterday knew that already."

"I take it that you're right," said Middleton, smiling and closing the glasses. "The second band won'tmolest us-not to-day."

"That seems to be a very effective way of signaling,"remarked Phil.

"On the plains, yes," said Middleton. "It is astonishinghow far such a vivid beam of light will carry, asthe crest of the knoll was too high for it to be interceptedby the swells."

Middleton told Woodfall what they had seen. Theleader's chin stiffened a little more, and the wagons wenton at the same pace, trailing their brown length acrossthe prairie.

About ten o'clock the march became difficult, as theyentered a town, but such a town! Its inhabitants wereprairie dogs, queer little animals, which darted down intotheir burrows at the approach of the horsemen andwagons, often sharing the home with a rattlesnake. Butthe horsemen were now compelled to proceed with exceedingcare, as the horses' feet often sank deep down in thedens. Stumbles were frequent and there were severalfalls. Wagon wheels, also, sank, and the advancebecame so difficult that Woodfall halted the train and sentPhil and some others to find a way around the town.

They rode five or six miles to the south, and still thesingular town stretched away, apparently endless. Thenthey came back and rode five or six miles to the northwith the same result. Acting upon the advice ofMiddleton, Woodfall, after hearing these reports, decided togo straight on through the town. It was known that suchtowns had been found twenty-five miles long, and thismight be as large. So they went directly ahead. Theriders dismounted and led their horses. Three timesPhil killed coiling rattlesnakes with the butt of his rifle, but he did not seek to molest any of the prairie dogs.

They moved very slowly, and it was three hours beforethey crossed the prairie dog town, leaving behind themsome destruction, but not more than they could help.

"Well, Sir Philip of the Prairie Dogs, what name areyou going to give to the populous community throughwhich we have just passed?" asked Breakstone.

"I suppose Canine Center will do as well as anyother," replied Phil.

"A wise selection, my gay youth," replied Bill Breakstone."But these animals, properly speaking, are notdogs, they are more like rats. I'm glad we've passed'em. It isn't pleasant to have your horse put his foot inone of their dens and shoot you over his head. The goodhard plain for me."

He cantered forward, and Phil cantered with him, raising his head and breathing the pure air that blew oversuch vast reaches of clean earth. He felt the bloodleaping in his veins again from mere physical happiness.He began to whistle gayly, and then to sing "Open thylattice, love," a song just coming into favor, written bythe man who became yet more famous with "OldKentucky Home" and "Suwanee River." Phil had a fine, fresh, youthful voice, and Breakstone listened to him ashe sang through two verses. Then he held up his hand, and Phil stopped.

"What's the trouble?" asked the boy.

"I don't object to your song, Phil, and I don't objectto your singing, but it won't be a good time for love toopen the lattice; it will be better to close it tight. Don'tyou feel a change in the air, Phil? Just turn your faceto the northwest, and you'll notice it."

Phil obeyed, and it seemed to him now that the airstriking upon his cheek was colder, but he imagined thatit was due to the increasing strength of the wind.

"I do not care if the wind is a little cold," he said."I like it."

 
"The wind is cold,
And you are bold;
The sky turns gray
You're not so gay;
And by and by
For sun you'll sigh,"
 

chanted Bill Breakstone, and then he added:

"See that gray mist forming in a circle about the sun, and look at that vapor off there in the northwest. ByGeorge, how fast it spreads! The whole sky is becomingovercast! Unroll your blanket, Phil, and have it readyto wrap around you I The whole train must stop andprepare!"

Bill Breakstone turned to give his warning, but others, too, had noticed the signals of danger. The commandstop was given. The wagons were drawn rapidly intocircle, and just as when the danger was Indians, insteadof that which now threatened, all the horses and muleswere put inside the circle. But now all the men, also, took their station inside, none remaining outside as guard.The wind meanwhile rose fast, and the temperaturefell with startling rapidity. The edge of the blast seemedto be ice itself. Phil, who was helping with the corral ofwagons, felt as if it cut him to the bone. He fullyappreciated Bill Breakstone's advice about the blanket.The day also was swiftly turning dark. The sun wasquite gone out. Heavy clouds and masses of vaporformed an impenetrable veil over all the sky. Now, besides the cold, Phil felt his face struck by fine particlesthat stung. It was the sand picked up by the wind, perhaps hundreds of miles away, and hurled upon them inan enveloping storm.

Phil pulled down his cap-brim and also sheltered hiseyes as much as he could with his left arm.

"It's the Norther," cried Breakstone. "Listen to it!"

The wind was now shrieking and howling over theplains with a voice that was truly human, only it was likethe shout of ten thousand human beings combined. Butit was a voice full of malice and cruelty, and Phil wasglad of the companionship of his kind.

The cold was now becoming intense, and he rapidlydrew the blanket about his body. Then he suddenly benthis head lower and completely covered his eyes with hisarm. It was hailing fiercely. Showers of white pellets, large enough to be dangerous, pounded him, and, as thedarkness had now increased to that of night, he gropedfor shelter. Bill Breakstone seized him by the arm andcried:

"Jump into the wagon there, Phil! And I'll jumpafter you!"

Phil obeyed with the quickness of necessity, andBreakstone came in on top of him. Middleton andArenberg were already there.

"Welcome to our wagon," said Arenberg, as Phil andBreakstone disentangled themselves. "You landed onone of my feet, Phil, and you landed on the other, Bill, but no harm iss done where none iss meant."

Phil cowered down and drew his blanket more closelyaround him, while the hail beat fiercely on the archedcanvas cover, and the cold wind shrieked and moanedmore wildly than ever. He peeped out at the front of thewagon and beheld a scene indescribable in its wild andchilling grandeur. The darkness endured. The hail wasdriven in an almost horizontal line like a sheet of sleet.The wagons showed but dimly in all this dusk. Theanimals, fortunately, had been tethered close to thewagons, where they were, in a measure, protected, butmany of them reared and neighed in terror and suffering.One look satisfied Phil, and he drew back well under cover.

"How often does this sort of thing happen in Texas?"he asked Arenberg.

"Not so often," replied the German, "and thisNorther, I think, is the worst I ever saw. The cold windcertainly blows like der Teufel. These storms must starton the great mountains far, far to the north, and I thinkthey get stronger as they come. Iss it not so, HerrBreakstone?"

"Your words sound true to me, Sir Hans of the BeerBarrel," replied Breakstone. "I've seen a few Northersin my time, and I've felt 'em, but this seems to me to beabout the most grown-up, all-around, healthy and friskyspecimen of the kind that I ever met."

Phil thought that the Norther would blow itself out inan hour or two, but he was mistaken. Several hourspassed and the wind was as strong and as cold as ever.The four ate some cold food that was in the wagon, andthen settled back into their places. No attempt would bemade to cook that day. But Phil grew so warm and snugin his blanket among the baggage, and the beating ofthe rain on the stout canvas cover was so soothing, thathe fell asleep after awhile. He did not know how longhe slept, because when he awoke it was still dark, thewind was still shrieking, and the other three, as he couldtell by their regular breathing, were asleep, also. He feltso good that he stretched himself a little, turned on theother side, and went to sleep again.

CHAPTER V
THE COMANCHE VILLAGE

The Norther did not blow itself out until noon of thenext day. Then it ceased almost as abruptly as ithad begun. The wind stopped its shrieking andhowling so suddenly that the silence, after so long aperiod of noise, was for awhile impressive. The cloudsfell apart as if cut down the middle by a saber, and thesun poured through the rift.

It was like a fairy transformation scene. The riftwidened so fast that soon all the clouds were gone beyondthe horizon. The sky was a solid blue, shot through withthe gold of the warm sun. The hail melted, and theground dried. It was spring again, and the world wasbeautiful. Phil saw, felt, and admired. Bill Breakstoneburst into song:

 
"The Norther came,
The Norther went.
It suits its name,
Its rage is spent.
 

"From the looks of things now," he continued, "youwouldn't think it had been whistling and groaningaround us for about twenty-four hours, trying to shoot usto death with showers of hail, but I'd have you to know,Sir Philip of the Untimely Cold and the Hateful Storm, that I have recorded it upon the tablets of my memory.I wouldn't like to meet such a Norther when I was aloneon the plains, on foot, and clad in sandals, a linen suit, and a straw hat."

"Nor I," said Phil with emphasis.

Now they lighted fires of buffalo chips which wereabundant everywhere, and ate the first warm food thatthey had had since the day before at noon. Then theyadvanced four or five miles and encamped on the banksof a creek, a small stream of water flowing in a broad, sandy bed. Phil and some of the others scouted in awide circle for Comanches, but saw no signs, and, as hehad slept so late that day, the boy remained awake mostof the night. There was a good moonlight, and he sawdusky slinking forms on the plain.

"Coyotes," said Bill Breakstone. "At least, most ofthem are, though I think from their size that two or threeof those figures out there must be timber wolves. If I'mright about 'em, it means that we're not far from a beltof forest country."

"I hope you're right," said Phil. "I'm gettingtired of plains now, and I'd like to see trees and hillsagain, and also water that runs faster and that's lessmuddy than these sluggish and sandy creeks."

Bill Breakstone threw back his head and laughed withunction.

"That's the way with fellows who were born in thehills," he said. "Wherever you go, sooner or later you'llpine for 'em again. I'm one of that lot, too."

"Yes, it's so," admitted Phil. "I like the greatplains, the vastness, the mystery, and the wonderful airwhich must be the purest in the world, that's alwaysblowing over them, but for a real snug, homey feelinggive me a little valley in the hills, with a brook ofgreen-white water about six inches deep running down it, andplenty of fine trees-oak, beech, hickory, elm, walnut, and chestnut-growing on the slopes and tops of the hills."

"A pretty picture, Sir Philip of the Brook, the Hill, the Valley, and the Tree," said Bill Breakstone, "andmaybe we will see it soon. As I told you, timber wolvesindicate trees not far off."

But the chief event that day was buffaloes and nottimber. They ran into a vast herd, traveling north withthe spring, and killed with ease all they wanted. Thebodies were cut up, and the wagons were filled with freshmeat. There was a momentary quandary about thehides, which they wished to save, a process that requiredimmediate curing, but they were unwilling to stop forthat purpose on the plain. Two of the scouts came in atsundown with news that the timber was only three or fourmiles ahead, and the whole train pushed forward, reachingit shortly after nightfall.

The wagons stopped just within the edge of the timber, but Phil, Breakstone, Arenberg, and Middleton rodeon, the night being so clear and bright that they couldsee almost as well as by day. The first range of hills waslow, but beyond lay others, rising perhaps two hundredfeet above the level of the plain. The timber on all thehills and the valleys between was dense and heavy, embracing many varieties of hard wood, elm, hackberry, overcup, ash, pecan, and wild china. There were alsothe bushes and vines of the blackberry, gooseberry, raspberry, currant, and of a small fox grape, plentifulthroughout the mountains of Texas. The fox grape grew on alittle bush like that of the currant, and growing inabundance was another bush, from two to six feet in height, that would produce wild plums in the autumn.

"It's a good country, a fine country," said BillBreakstone. "A man could live all the year around on thefood that he would find in this region, buffalo andantelope on the plains, deer and maybe beaver in here, and allsorts of wild fruits."

Phil nodded. He was reveling in the hills and timber.The moonlight fell in a vast sheet of silver, but thefoliage remained a solid mass of dark green beneath it.A tremulous little wind blew, and the soft sound of freshyoung leaves rubbing together came pleasantly. A faintnoise like a sigh told of a tiny stream somewhere tricklingover the pebbles. Phil opened his eyes as wide as hecould and drew in great gulps of the scented air. Bigbronze birds, roused by the tread of the horsemen, rosefrom a bough, and flew away among the trees. Theywere wild turkeys, but the lad and his comrades were notseeking game just then. Bill Breakstone, who was inadvance, stopped suddenly.

"Come here, Sir Philip of the Hilly Forest," he cried,"and see what uncle has found for his little boy."

Phil rode up by his side and uttered a little gasp ofadmiration. As he sat on his horse, he looked into aravine about two hundred feet deep. Down the center ofthe ravine dashed a little mountain river of absolutelyclear water. It was not more than twenty feet wide, butvery deep. As Breakstone said, "it ran on its side," butit ran along with much murmur and splash and laughterof waters. Often as the swift current struck the stonysides of the ravine it threw up little cascades of foam likesnow. The banks themselves, although of stone, werecovered most of the way with clustering vines and shortgreen bushes. The crest of the farther bank was woodedso heavily with great trees that they were like a wall.Farther down, the stream descended with increasedswiftness, and a steady murmuring noise that came to themindicated a waterfall. The brilliant moonlight bathedthe river, the hills, and the forest, and the great silencebrooded over them all. Middleton and Arenberg alsocame, and the four side by side on their horses sat forawhile, saying nothing, but rejoicing in a scene so vividand splendid to them, after coming from the monotony ofthe great plains.

"I'd like to drop off my horse after a hot day's ride,"said Bill Breakstone, "and have some of that river runover me. Wouldn't that be a shower-bath for a tired anddusty man!"

"It's likely to be ice-cold," said Middleton.

"Why so?" asked Phil.

"Because it rises somewhere high up. There must bemountains to the northward, and probably it is fed mostof the year by melting snows. I think Bill would haveenough of his bath very quickly."

"If I get a chance, and there is any way to get downto that stream, I may try it to-morrow," said Billthreateningly.

"Meanwhile, we'll ride back and tell what we'veseen," said Middleton.

"Isn't there any danger of Indian ambush in thetimber?" asked Phil.

"I don't think so," replied Middleton. "TheComanches are horse Indians, and keep entirely to theplains. The other tribes are too much afraid of theComanches to remain near them, and in consequencethe edge of a hilly stretch such as this is likely to bedeserted."

They rode back to the wagons and found that thecooking fires were already lighted, and their cheerful blazewas gleaming among the trees. Everybody else, also, was delighted at being in the timber, where clear waterflowed past, and most of the wounded were able to get outof the wagons and sit on the grass with their comrades.Woodfall decided that it was a good place in which tospend a few days for rest, repairs, and the hunting ofgame, as they wanted other fresh meat besides that of thebuffalo.

The next morning they began to cure the buffalo hidesthat they had already obtained. A smooth piece ofground, exposed all day to the rays of the sun, waschosen. Upon this the skin was stretched and peggeddown. Then every particle of the flesh was scraped off.After that, it was left about three days under the rays ofthe sun, and then it was cured. Twenty-five skins weresaved in this manner, and, also, by the same method ofdrying in the sun, they jerked great quantities of thebuffalo meat.

But Middleton, Arenberg, Breakstone, and Philturned hunters for the time. They found that the hillregion was very extensive, timbered heavily, andabundant in game. They hunted wholly on foot, and foundseveral places where the ravine opened out, at which theycould cross the little river by walking, although the waterrose to their waists.

They had great luck with the game, shooting a halfdozen splendid black-tailed deer, a score of wild turkeys, and many partridges, quail, and grouse. Bill Breakstone, according to his promise, bathed in the river, andhe did it more than once. He was also joined by hiscomrades, and, as Middleton had predicted, they foundthe water ice-cold. No one could stand it more than fiveminutes, but the effect was invigorating.

A great deal of work was done at the camp. Theaxles of wagons were greased, canvas ripped by wind orhail was sewed up again, clothing was patched, and thewounded basked in sun or shade. Two of these haddied, but the rest were now nearly well. All except twoor three would be fit to resume their duties when theystarted again.

Woodfall, knowing the benefit of a complete rest, stilllingered, and Phil and his friends had much time forexploration. They combined this duty with that of thescouting, and penetrated deep into the hills, watchingfor any Comanches who might stray in there, or for themountain tribes. Once they came upon severalabandoned lodges, made partly of skins and partly of brush, but they were falling in ruins, and Bill Breakstonereckoned they were at least two years old.

"Wichitas, Wacos, Kechies, and Quapaws live aroundin the hills and mountains," he said, "and this, I takeit, was a little camp of Kechies, from the looks of thelodges. Two or three groups of them may be lingeringyet in this region, but we haven't much to fear fromthem."

Woodfall, intending at first to make the stay onlyfour or five days, decided now to protract it to ten ortwelve. The journey to Santa Fé was one of tremendouslength and hardship. Moreover, a buffalo hunter, straying in, told them that the Comanches were very activeall over the Texas plains. Hence the Santa Fé trainwould need all its strength, and Woodfall was anxiousthat every one of the wounded should be in fightingcondition when they left the timber. Therefore thedelay.

Phil was glad of the added stay in the hills. He wasdeveloping great skill as a hunter and a trailer, and heand his comrades wandered farther and farther every dayinto the broken forest region toward the north. Oftenesthe and Bill Breakstone were together. Despite the differencein years, they had become brothers of the wilderness.In their scoutings they found available pathways forhorses over the hills and among the great trees, and, starting, one morning, they rode far to the north, coveringthirty or forty miles. Phil was interested in some highmountains which showed a dim blue ahead, and Breakstonewas carefully examining the rock formations. Butas night came on they found that the hills were droppingdown, and the mountains seemed to be about as blue andas far ahead as ever.

"I should judge from these signs," said Breakstone,"that there is a valley or narrow plain ahead, between usand the mountains. But we'll look into that to-morrow.It isn't good to be riding around in the dark over hillsand through thickets."

They found a little grassy open space, where theytethered their horses, leaving them to graze as long asthey wished, and, lighting no fire, they ate jerked buffalomeat. Then they crept into snug coverts under thebushes, wrapped their blankets about them, and fellasleep. Phil opened his eyes at daylight to findBreakstone already awake. The horses were grazingcontentedly. The trees and bushes were already tipped with fireby the gorgeous Texas sun.

"Sir Philip of the Bushes," said Bill Breakstone,"you just lie here and chew up a buffalo or two, while Igo ahead and take a look. As I said last night, thesehills certainly drop down into a plain, and I want to seethat plain."

"All right," said Phil, "I'll stay where I am. It'sso snug in this blanket on a cool morning that I don'tcare to move anyhow, and I can eat my breakfast lyingdown."

He drew out a freshly jerked strip of buffalo meat, and another very tender portion of a black-tailed deer thathe himself had shot, and fell to it. Bill Breakstone, hisrifle held conveniently at his side, slid away among thebushes. Phil ate contentedly. The sun rose higher.The morning was absolutely still. The horses seemed tohave had enough grass, and lay down placidly on theirsides. It occurred to Phil that he, too, had eaten enough, and he put the remainder of the food back in his hunter'sknapsack. Then he began to get drowsy again. It wasso very still. He thought once of rising and walkingabout, but he remembered Breakstone's advice to lie still, and, against his will, he kept it. Then his drowsinessincreased, and, before he was aware of it he was asleepagain.

When Phil awoke the second time, he threw off hisblanket and sprang to his feet in surprise. The sun washigh up in the blue arch. It must be at least ten o'clockin the morning, and Bill Breakstone had not come back.The horses were on their feet and were grazing again.They were proof that nothing had disturbed the glade.But Bill Breakstone was not there. Nor had he comeback and gone away again. If he had done so, he wouldhave awakened the boy. He had been absent three orfour hours, and Phil was alarmed.

The boy stood up, holding his hand on the hammer ofhis rifle. This beautiful day, with its blue skies aboveand its green forest below, oppressed him. It was sostill, so silent, and Bill Breakstone had vanished soutterly, just as if he had been turned into thin air by thewave of a magician's wand! The boy was alone in thewilderness for the first time. Moreover, he felt thepresence of danger, and the queer little shiver which oftencomes at such moments ran through his blood. But theshiver passed, and his courage rose. He had no thoughtof going back to the camp to report that Bill Breakstonewas missing. No, he would find him himself. That washis duty to his comrade.

The boy waited a little longer, standing there in theshade with his rifle ready, and eyes and ears intent. Hestood thus for a quarter of an hour, scarcely moving. Thebrilliant sunshine poured down upon him, bringing outevery line of the strong young figure, illuminating theface which was thrown a little forward, as the blue eyes, gazing intently through the undergrowth, sought someevidence of a hostile presence. Finally the eyes turned tothe horses which were grazing calmly in the full circle oftheir long lariats. Phil decided that such calm on theirpart signified the absence of any enemy. If either manor beast came near they would raise their heads.

Then Phil moved forward through the bushes, puttinginto use all his new skill and caution. The bushes closedsoftly behind him, and he entered a slope covered withgreat trees without undergrowth. His eyes could rangeforward several hundred yards, but he saw nothing. Headvanced for a few minutes, steadily descending, and hewas tempted to shout his loudest or fire off his rifle as asignal to the derelict Bill Breakstone that it was time forhim to come back. But he resisted both temptations, and soon he was glad that he had done so. The slopewas very gradual, and he traveled a full two miles beforehe came to the edge of the woods and saw before him theplain that Bill Breakstone had predicted. He took onelook, and then, springing back, sank down in the covertof the bushes.

Before Phil lay a fairly level plain about a mile inwidth and of unknown length, as in either direction itparsed out of sight among the hills. In the center of itwas a shallow but wide creek which perhaps flowed into thenameless river. The valley was very fertile, as the grasswas already rich and high, despite the earliness of spring.

At the widest point of the valley stood a large Indianvillage, two hundred lodges at least, and Phil could notdoubt that it was a village of the Comanches. Hundredsof ponies, grazing in the meadows to the north, andguarded by boys, proved that they were horse Indians, and no other tribe dared to ride where the Comanchesroamed.

Phil could see far in the dazzling sunlight, and all thenormal activities of human life, that is, of wild life, seemed to prevail in the Comanche village. Evidentlythe warriors had been on a great buffalo hunt. Perhapsthey had struck at another point the same herd intowhich the train had run. Over a wide space buffalohides were pegged down. Old squaws were scraping theflesh from some with little knives, while others, alreadycleaned, were drying in the sun. Vast quantities ofbuffalo meat were being jerked on temporary platforms.Little Indian boys and girls carried in their hand bonesof buffalo or deer, from which they ate whenever they felthungry. Everywhere it was a scene of savage plenty andenjoyment, although signs of industry were not whollylacking, even among the warriors. Many of these, sitting on the grass, were cleaning their rifles or makingnew bows and arrows. Now and then one would make atest, sending into the air an arrow which some little boywas glad to run after and bring back. At another pointa number of boys were practicing at a target with smallbows and blunt-headed arrows. Two warriors on theirponies came up the valley, each carrying before him thebody of a black-tailed deer. They were received withshouts, but soon disappeared with their spoils among thelodges, which were made universally of the skin of thebuffalo. Down at the end of the village some warriors, naked to the breech cloth, danced monotonously back andforth, while an old man blew an equally monotonoustune on a whistle made of the bone of an eagle.

Phil, lying close in his covert, watched with absorbedeyes, and with mind and vision alike quick and keen,he took in every detail. The warriors were tall men, with intelligent faces, aquiline noses, thin lips, blackeyes and hair, and but little beard. The hair grew verylong, as they never cut it, and in many cases it wasornamented with bright beads and little pieces of silver.They wore deerskin leggins or moccasins, and a cloth ofsome bright color, bought from American Mexicantraders, wrapped around the loins. The body from theloin cloth upward was naked, but in winter was coveredwith a buffalo robe. The women were physically verymuch inferior to the men. They were short and withcrooked legs. Moreover, they wore their hair cut close, being compelled to do so by tribal law, the long-hairedComanche men and the short-haired Comanche womenthus reversing the custom of civilization. Both men andwomen wore amulets. The Comanches, like most Indiantribes, were great believers in dreams, and the amuletswere supposed to protect them from such as were bad.