The agency store was opposite this structure.
All the buildings were whitewashed, and looked neat and clean.

The Kickapoos were very friendly Indians, and we spent much of our time among them, looking about and studying their habits.
After a while we returned to our own camp, and just as we arrived there, we saw a drove of horses--there were three or four hundred in all--approaching from the west, over the California trail.

They were being driven by seven or eight mounted men, wearing sombreros, and dressed in buckskin, with their lariats dangling from their saddles, and they were followed by two or three pack-mules or horses.

They went into camp a little below us on the bank of the stream.
Presently one of the men walked out towards our camp, and my father called to me to come and see a genuine Western man; he was about six feet two inches tall, was well built, and had a light, springy and wiry step.
He wore a broad-brimmed California hat, and was dressed in a complete suit of buckskin, beautifully trimmed and beaded.

He saluted us, and father invited him to sit down, which he did.