University of Virginia Library

23. CHAPTER XXIII.

On mustering our forces in the morning,
(Oct. 23,) old Ryan and his comrade were still
missing; but, the Captain had such perfect reliance
on the skill and resources of the veteran
woodsman, that he did not think it necessary to
take any measures with respect to him.

Our march this day lay through the same kind
of rough rolling country; checquered by brown
dreary forests of post-oak, and cut up by deep
dry ravines. The distant fires were evidently
increasing on the prairies. The wind had been
at northwest for several days; and the atmosphere
had become so smoky, as in the height of
Indian summer, that it was difficult to distinguish
objects at any distance.

In the course of the morning, we crossed a
deep stream with a complete beaver dam, above
three feet high, making a large pond, and doubtless
containing several families of that industrious
animal, though not one showed his nose

above water. The Captain would not permit
this amphibious commonwealth to be disturbed.

We were now continually coming upon the
tracks of buffaloes and wild horses; those of
the former, tended invariably to the south, as we
could perceive by the direction of the trampled
grass. It was evident, we were on the great
highway of these migratory herds, but that they
had chiefly passed to the southward.

Beatte, who generally kept a parallel course
several hundred yards distant from our line of
march, to be on the look out for game, and who
regarded every track with the knowing eye of
an Indian, reported that he had come upon a
very suspicious trail. There were the tracks of
men who wore Pawnee moccasons. He had
scented the smoke of mingled sumach and tobacco,
such as the Indians use. He had observed
tracks of horses, mingled with those of a
dog; and a mark in the dust where a cord had
been trailed along; probably the long bridle,
one end of which the Indian horsemen suffer to
trail on the ground. It was evident, they were
not the tracks of wild horses. My anxiety began
to revive about the safety of our veteran
hunter Ryan, for I had taken a great fancy to
this real old Leatherstocking; every one expressed
a confidence, however, that wherever Ryan
was, he was safe, and knew how to take care of
himself.

we had accomplished the greater part of a
weary day's march, and were passing through a
glade of the oak openings, when we came in
sight of six wild horses, among which I especially
noticed two very handsome ones, a grey and
a roan. They pranced about, with heads erect,
and long flaunting tails, offering a proud contrast
to our poor, spiritless, travel-tired steeds.
Having reconnoitered us for a moment, they set
off at a gallop, passed through a woody dingle,
and in a little while emerged once more to view,
trotting up a slope about a mile distant.

The sight of these horses were again a sore
trial to the vapouring Tonish, who had his lariat
and forked stick ready, and was on the point of
launching forth in pursuit, on his jaded horse,
when he was again ordered back to the pack-horses.

After a day's journey of fourteen miles in a
southwest direction, we encamped on the banks
of a small clear stream, on the northern border
of the Cross Timbers; and on the edge of those
vast prairies, that extend away to the foot of the
Rocky Mountains. In turning loose the horses to
graze, their bells were stuffed with grass to prevent
their tinkling, lest it might be heard by some
wandering horde of Pawnees.

Our hunters now went out in different directions,
but without much success, as but one deer

was brought into the camp. A young ranger
had a long story to tell of his adventures. In
skirting the thickets of a deep ravine, he had
wounded a buck which he plainly heard to fall
among the bushes. He stopped to fix the lock
of his rifle, which was out of order, and to reload
it: then advancing to the edge of the thicket,
in quest of his game, he heard a low growling.
Putting the branches aside, and stealing
silently forward, he looked down into the ravine
and beheld a huge bear, dragging the carcass of
the deer along the dry channel of a brook, and
growling and snarling at four or five officious
wolves, who seemed to have dropped in to take
supper with him.

The ranger fired at the bear, but missed him.
Bruin maintained his ground and his prize, and
seemed disposed to make battle. The wolves,
too, who were evidently sharp set, drew off to
but a small distance. As night was coming on,
the young hunter felt dismayed at the wildness
and darkness of the place, and the strange
company he had fallen in with; so he quietly
withdrew, and returned empty handed to the
camp, where, having told his story, he was heartily
bantered by his more experienced comrades.

In the course of the evening, old Ryan came
straggling into the camp, followed by his disciple,

and as usual was received with hearty gratulations.
He had lost himself yesterday, when
hunting, and camped out all night, but had found
our trail in the morning, and followed it up.
He had passed some time at the beaver dam,
admiring the skill and solidity with which it had
been constructed. “These beavers,” said he,
“are industrious little fellows. They are the
knowingest varment as I know; and I'll warrant
the pond was stocked with them.”

“Aye,” said the Captain, “I have no doubt
most of the small rivers we have passed are
full of beaver. I would like to come and trap
on these waters all winter.”

“But would you not run the chance of being
attacked by Indians?” asked one of the company.

“Oh, as to that, it would be safe enough here,
in the winter time. There would be no Indians
here until spring. I should want no more than
two companions. Three persons are safer than
a large number for trapping beaver. They can
keep quiet, and need seldom fire a gun. A bear
would serve them for food, for two months, taking
care to turn every part of it to advantage.”

A consultation was now held as to our future
progress. We had thus far pursued a western
course; and, having traversed the Cross Timber,
were on the skirts of the Great Western

Prairie. We were still, however, in a very rough
country, where food was scarce. The season
was so far advanced that the grass was withered,
and the prairies yielded no pasturage. The
pea-vines of the bottoms, also, which had sustained
our horses for some part of the journey,
were nearly gone, and for several days past the
poor animals had fallen off wofully both in
flesh and spirit. The Indian fires on the prairies
were approaching us from north, and south, and
west; they might spread also from the east, and
leave a scorched desert between us and the frontier,
in which our horses might be famished.

It was determined, therefore, to advance no
further to the westward, but to shape our course
more to the east, so as to strike the north fork of
the Canadian, as soon as possible, where we
hoped to find abundance of young cane; which,
at this season of the year, affords the most nutritious
pasturage for the horses; and, at the same
time, attracts immense quantities of game.
Here then we fixed the limits of our tour to the
Far West, being within little more than a day's
march of the boundary line of Texas.