The Comanche Chief was most exceedingly hospitable, in his way,
and would not allow us to eat of our own provisions, but insisted
upon our eating with him, and "trotted" out the best "grub" he
had.
After breakfast the next morning our horses were brought in by the
Indians, who also helped us to pack, and we struck the trail
again, accompanied by White Horse and his daughter, who traveled
with us all that day and camped with us at night.
That evening Uncle Kit killed a fine buffalo calf, and I thought
it the best meat I had ever eaten--even better than dog.
The following morning the Chief and his daughter returned to the
village, and we proceeded on our journey.
That day, riding along on my crop-eared pony, about fifty yards
behind my companions, I chanced to look behind me and I saw what I
thought to be a man, walking on a hill towards us, and he appeared
to be at least twenty feet high. As he got further down the hill
he appeared to grow shorter, until, I thought, he went down a
ravine and out of sight.
I put spurs to Croppy and galloped up to Uncle Kit, and told him I
had seen the tallest man on earth, declaring that the man was at
least twenty feet high.
"An' you saw a man that high?" said Uncle Kit
"Indeed I did," I replied.
"Sure you saw him?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; and if you will watch you will see him come up out of
the ravine, directly.
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