University of Virginia Library

24. CHAPTER XXIV.

The morning broke bright and clear, but the
camp had nothing of its usual gaiety. The concert
of the farm-yard was at an end; not a cock
crew, nor dog barked; nor was there either
singing or laughing; every one pursued his avocations
quietly and gravely. The novelty of
the expedition was wearing off. Some of the
young men were getting as way-worn as their
horses; and most of them, unaccustomed to the
hunter's life, began to repine at its privations.
What they most felt was the want of bread,
their rations of flour having been exhausted for
several days. The old hunters, who had often
experienced this want, made light of it; and
Beatte accustomed, when among the Indians,
to live for months without it, considered it a
mere article of luxury. “Bread,” he would say
scornfully, “is only fit for a child.”

About a quarter before eight o'clock, we turned
our backs upon the Far West, and set off in
a southeast course, along a gentle valley. After
riding a few miles, Beatte, who kept parallel

with us, along the ridge of a naked hill to our
right, called out and made signals, as if something
were coming round the hill to intercept us.
Some who were near me cried out that it was a
party of Pawnees. A skirt of thickets hid the
approach of the supposed enemy from our view.
We heard a trampling among the brushwood.
My horse looked toward the place, snorted and
pricked up his ears, when presently a couple of
huge buffalo bulls, who had been alarmed by
Beatte, came crashing through the brake, and
making directly towards us. At sight of us they
wheeled round, and scuttled along a narrow defile
of the hill. In an instant half a score of
rifles cracked off; there was a universal whoop
and halloo, and away went half the troop, helter
skelter in pursuit, and myself among the
number. The most of us soon pulled up, and
gave over a chase which led through birch and
brier, and break-neck ravines. Some few of
the rangers persisted for a time; but eventually
joined the line, slowly lagging one after another.
One of them returned on foot; he had
been thrown while in full chase; his rifle had
been broken in the fall, and his horse, retaining
the spirit of the rider, had kept on after the buffalo.
It was a melancholy predicament to be
reduced to; to be without horse or weapon in
the midst of the Pawnee hunting grounds.

For my own part, I had been fortunate
enough recently, by a further exchange, to get
possession of the best horse in the troop; a full-blooded
sorrel of excellent bottom, beautiful
form, and most generous qualities.

In such a situation, it almost seems as if a
man changes his nature with his horse. I felt
quite like another being, now that I had an animal
under me, spirited yet gentle, docile to a
remarkable degree, and easy, elastic and rapid
in all his movements. In a few days he became
almost as much attached to me as a dog; would
follow me when I dismounted, would come to
me in the morning to be noticed and caressed;
and would put his muzzle between me and my
book, as I sat reading at the foot of a tree. The
feeling I had for this my dumb companion of
the prairies, gave me some faint idea of that attachment
the Arab is said to entertain for the
horse that has borne him about the deserts.

After riding a few miles further, we came to
a fine meadow with a broad clear stream winding
through it, on the banks of which there was
excellent pasturage. Here we at once came to
a halt, in a beautiful grove of elms, on the site
of an old Osage encampment. Scarcely had we
dismounted, when a universal firing of rifles
took place upon a large flock of turkeys, scattered
about the grove, which proved to be a favourite

roosting place for these simple birds.
They flew to the trees, and sat perched upon
their branches, stretching out their long necks,
and gazing in stupid astonishment, until eighteen
of them were shot down.

In the height of the carnage, word was
brought that there were four buffaloes in a neighbouring
meadow. The turkeys were now abandoned
for nobler game. The tired horses were
again mounted, and urged to the chase. In a
little while we came in sight of the buffaloes,
looking like brown hillocks among the long
green herbage. Beatte endeavoured to get
ahead of them and turn them towards us, that
the inexperienced hunters might have a chance.
They ran round the base of a rocky hill, that
hid us from the sight. Some of us endeavoured
to cut across the hill, but became entrapped
in a thick wood, matted with grape vines. My
horse, who, under his former rider had hunted the
buffalo, seemed as much excited as myself, and
endeavoured to force his way through the bushes.
At length we extricated ourselves, and galloping
over the hill, I found our little Frenchman Tonish,
curvetting on horseback round a great
buffalo which he had wounded too severely to
fly, and which he was keeping employed until
we should come up. There was a mixture of
the grand and the comic, in beholding this tremendous

animal and his fantastic assailant. The
buffalo stood with his shagged front always presented
to his foe; his mouth open, his tongue
parched, his eyes like coals of fire, and his tail
erect with rage; every now and then he would
make a faint rush upon his foe, who easily evaded
his attack, capering and cutting all kinds of
antics before him.

We now made repeated shots at the buffalo,
but they glanced into his mountain of flesh
without proving mortal. He made a slow and
grand retreat into the shallow river, turning upon
his assailants whenever they pressed upon him;
and when in the water, took his stand there as
if prepared to sustain a siege. A rifle ball, however,
more fatally lodged, sent a tremour through
his frame. He turned and attempted to wade
across the stream, but after tottering a few
paces, slowly fell upon his side and expired. It
was the fall of a hero, and we felt somewhat
ashamed of the butchery that had effected it;
but, after the first shot or two, we had reconciled
it to our feelings, by the old plea of putting
the poor animal out of his misery.

Two other buffaloes were killed this evening,
but they were all bulls, the flesh of which is
meagre and hard, at this season of the year. A
fat buck yielded us much more savory meat for
our evening's repast.