 | CHAPTER XXX. The Crayon miscellany |  |
30. CHAPTER XXX.
A comrade lost. A search for the camp. The
Commissioner, the wild horse, and the buffalo.
A wolf serenade.
Our solicitude was now awakened for the
young Count. With his usual eagerness and
impetuosity he had persisted in urging his jaded
horse in pursuit of the herd, unwilling to return
without having likewise killed a buffalo. In
this way he had kept on following them, hither
and thither, and occasionally firing an ineffectual
shot, until by degrees horseman and herd
became indistinct in the distance, and at length
swelling ground and strips of trees and thickets
hid them entirely from sight.
By the time my friend, the amateur, joined
me, the young Count had been long lost to view.
We held a consultation on the matter. Evening
was drawing on. Were we to pursue him, it
would be dark before we should overtake him,
granting we did not entirely lose trace of him
in the gloom. We should then be too much
bewildered to find our way back to the encampment;
even now, our return would be difficult.
the camp as speedily as possible, and send out
our half-breeds, and some of the veteran hunters,
skilled in cruising about the prairies, to search
for our companion.
We accordingly set forward in what we
supposed to be the direction of the camp. Our
weary horses could hardly be urged beyond a
walk. The twilight thickened upon us; the
landscape grew gradually indistinct; we tried
in vain to recognize various landmarks which
we had noted in the morning. The features of
the prairies are so similar as to baffle the eye
of any but an Indian, or a practised woodsman.
At length night closed in. We hoped to see the
distant glare of camp fires; we listened to catch
the sound of the bells about the necks of the
grazing horses. Once or twice we thought we
distinguished them: we were mistaken. Nothing
was to be heard but a monotonous concert of
insects, with now and then the dismal howl of
wolves mingling with the night breeze. We
began to think of halting for the night, and
bivouacking under the lea of some thicket. We
had implements to strike a light; there was
plenty of firewood at hand, and the tongues of
our buffaloes would furnish us with a repast.
Just as we were preparing to dismount, we
heard the report of a rifle, and shortly after, the
Pushing forward in that direction, the camp
fires soon broke on our sight, gleaming at a distance
from among the thick groves of an alluvial
bottom.
As we entered the camp, we found it a scene
of rude hunters' revelry and wassail. There
had been a grand day's sport, in which all had
taken a part. Eight buffaloes had been killed;
roaring fires were blazing on every side; all
hands were feasting upon roasted joints, broiled
marrow-bones, and the juicy hump, far-famed
among the epicures of the prairies. Right glad
were we to dismount and partake of the sturdy
cheer, for we had been on our weary horses
since morning without tasting food.
As to our worthy friend, the Commissioner,
with whom we had parted company at the outset
of this eventful day, we found him lying in
a corner of the tent, much the worse for wear,
in the course of a successful hunting match.
It seems that our man Beatte, in his zeal to
give the Commissioner an opportunity of distinguishing
himself, and gratifying his hunting
propensities, had mounted him upon his half
wild horse, and started him in pursuit of a huge
buffalo bull, that had already been frightened
by the hunters. The horse, which was fearless
as his owner, and, like him, had a considerable
had been made familiar with the game,
no sooner came in sight and scent of the buffalo,
than he set off like mad, bearing the involuntary
hunter hither and thither, and whither he would
not—up hill and down hill—leaping pools and
brooks—dashing through glens and gullies, until
he came up with the game. Instead of sheering
off, he crowded upon the buffalo. The
Commissioner, almost in self defence, discharged
both barrels of a double barrelled gun into the
enemy. The broadside took effect, but was
not mortal. The buffalo turned furiously upon
his pursuer: the horse, as he had been taught
by his owner, wheeled off. The buffalo plunged
after him. The worthy Commissioner, in great
extremity, drew his sole pistol from his holster,
fired it off as a stern chaser, shot the buffalo full
in the breast, and brought him lumbering forward
to the earth.
The Commissioner returned to camp, lauded
on all sides for his signal exploit; but grievously
battered and way-worn. He had been a hard
rider per force, and a victor in spite of himself.
He turned a deaf ear to all compliments and
congratulations; had but little stomach for the
hunter's fare placed before him, and soon retreated
to stretch his limbs in the tent, declaring
that nothing should tempt him again to mount
enough of buffalo hunting for the rest of his life.
It was too dark now to send any one in search
of the young Count. Guns, however, were fired,
and the bugle sounded from time to time, to
guide him to the camp, if by chance he should
straggle within hearing; but the night advanced
without his making his appearance. There was
not a star visible to guide him, and we concluded
that wherever he was, he would give up wandering
in the dark, and bivouack until daybreak.
It was a raw, overcast night. The carcasses
of the buffaloes killed in the vicinity of the
camp, had drawn about it an unusual number of
wolves, who kept up the most forlorn concert
of whining yells, prolonged into dismal cadences
and inflexions, literally converting the surrounding
waste into a howling wilderness. Nothing
is more melancholy than the midnight howl of a
wolf on a prairie. What rendered the gloom
and wildness of the night and the savage concert
of the neighbouring waste the more dreary
to us, was the idea of the lonely and exposed
situation of our young and inexperienced comrade.
We trusted, however, that on the return
of daylight, he would find his way back to
the camp, and then all the events of the night
would be remembered only as so many savoury
gratifications of his passion for adventure.
| CHAPTER XXX. The Crayon miscellany | |