 | CHAPTER XVIII. The Crayon miscellany |  |
18. CHAPTER XVIII.
A Grand Prairie. Cliff Castle. Buffalo tracks.
Deer hunted by Wolves. Cross Timber.
After a toilsome march of some distance
through a country cut up by ravines and brooks,
and entangled by thickets, we emerged upon a
grand prairie. Here one of the characteristic
scenes of the Far West broke upon us. An immense
extent of grassy, undulating, or as it is
termed, rolling country, with here and there a
clump of trees, dimly seen in the distance like a
ship at sea; the landscape deriving sublimity
from its vastness and simplicity. To the south-west,
on the summit of a hill, was a singular
crest of broken rocks, resembling a ruined fortress.
It reminded me of the ruin of some Moorish
castle, crowning a height in the midst of a
lonely Spanish landscape. To this hill we gave
the name of Cliff Castle.
The prairies of these great hunting regions differed
in the character of their vegetation from
those through which I had hitherto passed. Instead
of a profusion of tall flowering plants and
long flaunting grasses, they were covered with
a shorter growth of herbage called Buffalo grass,
excellent and abundant pasturage. At
present it was growing wiry, and in many places
was too much parched for grazing.
The weather was verging into that serene but
somewhat arid season called the Indian Summer.
There was a smoky haze in the atmosphere
that tempered the brightness of the sunshine
into a golden tint, softening the features of
the landscape, and giving a vagueness to the
outlines of distant objects. This haziness was
daily increasing, and was attributed to the burning
of distant prairies by the Indian hunting parties.
We had not gone far upon the prairie before
we came to where deeply worn footpaths were
seen traversing the country: sometimes two or
three would keep on parallel to each other, and
but a few paces apart. These were pronounced
to be traces of buffaloes, where large droves had
passed. There were tracks also of horses, which
were observed with some attention by our experienced
hunters. They could not be the tracks
of wild horses, as there were no prints of the
hoofs of colts; all were full grown. As the
horses evidently were not shod, it was concluded
they must belong to some hunting party of
Pawnees. In the course of the morning, the
tracks of a single horse, with shoes, were discovered.
hunter, or perhaps a horse stolen from the whites
of the frontier. Thus, in traversing these perilous
wastes, every footprint and dint of hoof becomes
matter of cautious inspection and shrewd
surmise; and the question continually is, whether
it be the trace of friend or foe, whether of recent
or ancient date, and whether the being that
made it be out of reach, or liable to be encountered.
We were getting more and more into the game
country: as we proceeded, we repeatedly saw
deer to the right and left, bounding off for the
coverts; but their appearance no longer excited
the same eagerness to pursue. In passing along
a slope of the prairie, between two rolling swells
of land, we came in sight of a genuine natural
hunting match. A pack of seven black wolves
and one white one were in full chase of a buck,
which they had nearly tired down. They crossed
the line of our march without apparently perceiving
us; we saw them have a fair run of
nearly a mile, gaining upon the buck until they
were leaping upon his haunches, when he plunged
down a ravine. Some of our party galloped
to a rising ground commanding a view of the
ravine. The poor buck was completely beset,
some on his flanks, some at his throat: he made
two or three struggles and desperate bounds, but
pieces. The black wolves, in their ravenous
hunger and fury, took no notice of the distant
group of horsemen; but the white wolf, apparently
less game, abandoned the prey and scampered
over hill and dale, rousing various deer
that were crouched in the hollows, and which
bounded off likewise in different directions. It
was altogether a wild scene, worthy of the
“hunting grounds.”
We now came once more in sight of the Red
Fork, winding its turbid course between well
wooded hills, and through a vast and magnificent
landscape. The prairies bordering on the
rivers are always varied in this way with woodland,
so beautifully interspersed as to appear to
have been laid out by the hand of taste; and
they only want here and there a village spire,
the battlements of a castle, or the turrets of an
old family mansion rising from among the trees,
to rival the most ornamented scenery of Europe.
About midday we reached the edge of that
scattered belt of forest land, about forty miles in
width, which stretches across the country from
north to south, from the Arkansas to the Red
River, separating the upper from the lower prairies,
and commonly called the “Cross Timber.”
On the skirts of this forest land, just on the edge
of a prairie, we found traces of a Pawnee encampment
lodges, showing that the party must have been
numerous. The scull of a buffalo lay near the
camp, and the moss which had gathered on it
proved that the encampment was at least a year
old. About half a mile off we encamped in a
beautiful grove, watered by a fine spring and
rivulet. Our day's journey had been about fourteen
miles.
In the course of the afternoon we were rejoined
by two of Lieutenant King's party, which
we had left behind a few days before, to look
after stray horses. All the horses had been
found, though some had wandered to the distance
of several miles. The lieutenant, with seventeen
of his companions, had remained at our
last night's encampment to hunt, having come
upon recent traces of buffalo. They had also
seen a fine wild horse, which, however, had galloped
off with a speed that defied pursuit.
Confident anticipations were now indulged,
that on the following day we should meet with
buffalo, and perhaps with wild horses, and every
one was in spirits. We needed some excitement
of the kind, for our young men were growing
weary of marching and encamping under
restraint, and provisions this day were scanty.
The captain and several of the rangers went
out hunting, but brought home nothing but a
Beatte and Tonish, likewise went out. The former
returned with a deer athwart his horse,
which, as usual, he laid down by our lodge, and
said nothing. Tonish returned with no game,
but with his customary budget of wonderful
tales. Both he and the deer had done marvels.
Not one had come within the lure of his rifle
without being hit in a mortal part, yet strange
to say, every one had kept on his way without
flinching. We all determined, that from the accuracy
of his aim, Tonish must have shot with
charmed balls, but that every deer had a charmed
life. The most important intelligence brought
by him, however, was, that he had seen the fresh
tracks of several wild horses. He now considered
himself upon the eve of great exploits,
for there was nothing upon which he glorified
himself more than his skill in horse catching.
| CHAPTER XVIII. The Crayon miscellany | |