University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
A NIGHT TO BE REMEMBERED.

Instantly the whole camp was alarmed. Men
started up in every direction, shouting “Indians!
Indians!” and for a few minutes a scene of the wildest
confusion prevailed. As soon as I could make a few
of them understand what had occurred, order began
to be restored; and Lieutenant Parker, seizing me by
the arm, and a dark lantern which hung in one of the
wagons, hurried me into the tent, and ordered one of
his men to fetch a gallon of whiskey with the utmost
despatch.

“My dear fellow,” he exclaimed, in an excited
tone, “where is it? where is the wound? we must
burn it out at once!”

“Quick!” cried I—“do what you can! Oh, God!
to die such a death!” and I threw myself down upon
the blanket, and pointed to my foot.

He held the light to it a moment, and exclaimed:

“Quick! the other foot! you have made a mistake
—there is no wound here.”

“No!” said I—“that is where I felt the blow.”

At this moment Varney burst into the tent, and,
dropping upon his knees by my side, seized my hand,
and fairly gasped:

“Great God! Roland, are you bit? have you
received your death-wound?”

“I fear so, my dear friend,” I answered, in as calm
a tone as I could command. “Your prospects of life
are better than mine now.”

“Oh! say not so! You will get over it—you
must, dear Roland! Great God, do not, in Thy
mercy, snatch him away thus suddenly!”

“There is no wound,” said Parker, in that peculiar
tone which shows that the mind of the speaker is
suddenly relieved of great anxiety. “You were
dreaming, perhaps!”

“No!” said I, examining my foot, with feelings of
joy and gratitude no language can express: “I was
not dreaming—it was a horrible reality; so horrible,
indeed, that the very recollection of it makes me shudder
and grow sick. I saw the reptile, by a bright

flash of lightning, as distinctly as I see you now; and
I heard his rattle, and felt the blow of his fangs.”

“It is very strange! there is no wound to be seen!”
said the lieutenant. “Are you sure this is the place
where he struck?”

“Yes, I am certain.”

He mused a moment, and added:

“How were you lying?”

“On my back.”

“Please to take the same position again.”

I did so.

“Now where did you see the snake?”

“Just where you stand.”

“I have it!” he said, stooping and throwing a corner
of the blanket against my foot. “The snake was
here, and struck there. It was your blanket that
saved you.”

“Whatever it was,” said I, solemnly, “I humbly
thank God for my almost miraculous preservation;”
and so overcome was I, at the reflection of what might
have been my fate, that I shed tears freely.

“These venomous reptiles are very abundant in this
part of the country,” pursued the lieutenant; “and it
is very dangerous to sleep on the ground, unless completely
covered by a blanket. I congratulate you on
your wonderful escape. For the future, you had better
swing your hammock, or get into the wagon with your
friend.”

“I shall not soon forget your kindness,” said I,
taking his hand; “for had I really been poisoned, as

I had every reason to believe, when I alarmed the
camp, I think, if in human power, you would have
saved my life.”

“I should have done what I could,” he replied; “but
had any of the virus entered a blood-vessel, and been
carried to the heart, it is certain you would never
have returned to the States alive. You have indeed
had a narrow escape; and if you go to the mountains
and return, you will doubtless have many more—for
this is a country of peril, and no one can say his life is
his own from one hour to another. Ah! what lightning
we have out here!” he continued, as a sudden
flash fairly blinded us, followed instantly by a crash
of thunder that seemed to lift us from our feet. “How
the storm rages! Hark! what cry is that?”

The cry alluded to came from without, and was
instantly repeated, announcing the startling fact that
one of the men had been struck by lightning. We
all hurried from the tent into the beating storm, and
found a poor fellow stretched on the ground, by one
of the wagons, to all appearance dead. The wagon
itself—the same which Varney had occupied a few
minutes before—was much shattered; and the very
spot where he had been lying, when my cry of terror
aroused him, was literally torn into splinters. As
soon as he became conscious of this fact, he grasped
my hand nervously, and in a tone made tremulous by
deep emotions, exclaimed:

“How mysterious are the ways of Providence!

Your peril, Roland, and its consequences, have been
the means of saving my life!”

“Which you may lose in another manner, if you
do not seek shelter from this furious storm!” said I,
anxiously.

“God is over all, and rules all for the best!” he rejoined,
with great solemnity; “and after what has
happened to-night, we should not fear to trust to His
protection! But as we can render no assistance here,
we may as well return to our tent.”

We left Lieutenant Parker, with several of his men,
busy over the body of the unfortunate soldier, trying
to restore him to life; but just as we reached our tent,
a fierce gust wrenched it from its fastenings, and sent
it whirling through the air.

“Great Heaven! what a night!” cried Varney; and
he had scarcely uttered the words, when we heard
several fierce neighs, and heavy trampling sounds,
followed by a loud shout, above the roar of the
storm:

“A stampede! a stampede! the animals have
broken loose!”

“There go our horses and mule!” exclaimed Varney;
“what next?”

“Heaven only knows!” said I. “We have lost our
animals, and tent, and my clothes; and here we both
stand, almost as naked as when we came into the
world.”

In fact, I only had on me a flannel shirt, with a
belt underneath, in which was secured my money—

all the rest of my wearing apparel, hanging in my
tent at the time of its demolition, having been carried
I knew not whither. I say all; but I had another
suit in my mule-pack, which fortunately had been
thrown into one of the wagons; and I now made
search for it in the darkness and confusion which prevailed.
We found the wagon, and both got into it,
glad to escape from the chilling winds and merciless
peltings of the tornado-driven rain.

For two hours the winds blew, the lightnings
flashed, the thunders crashed and roared, and the
rain fell in torrents; and then the storm ceased its
fury, and gradually disappeared to the eastward,
leaving the atmosphere at least thirty degrees colder
than at the going down of the sun. With what joy
we hailed the departure of the storm, mingled with
feelings of gratitude for the wonderful preservation
of our lives! It is in times like these that we humbly
feel our dependence upon an All-wise Power; and the
soul, drawn into direct communion with itself, gives
forth an offering of thankful prayer, which must be
acceptable to Him who reigns supreme over all, and
controls alike the fate of millions of worlds and the
smallest atom which His will, wisdom and love have
brought into existence.

Let me not dwell upon the incidents of that eventful
night—for there is enough before me, of a more
exciting, thrilling, and even painful interest, to
occupy the space I have allotted to my narrative.
Day dawned at last, as bright and clear as if the

night had seen no tempest; and we hailed the light,
as a weary spirit might hail a messenger of glad tidings
from a better world. But it dawned no more
for him who had that night felt the visitation of an
inscrutable Providence. The poor fellow, prostrated
by the bolt of heaven, slept his last sleep; and his
body was consigned to dust, on the bank of the
stream, not far from our camp; and the news of his
fate, in time, went home to his friends, and carried
sorrow to many a heart. I pitied him then—cut
down, without warning, in the very bloom of life;
but I lived to see a time when I could envy his fate,
and regret the chance which had saved me from the
fangs of a deadly serpent.

After a long search, most of the animals were recovered—and,
among them, our horses—but our mule
we never saw again. I found our tent about half a mile
from camp—but in such a wretched condition as to
cause me to abandon it to the further sport of the elements.
I also recovered my garments, which had
made quite a journey without their owner—but I could
not perceive they were in the least improved by traveling
through mud and rain on their own account.
My rifle and pistols were found lying on the ground
where our tent had stood—having, through my excitement,
been forgotten till morning—but they were
in a condition to require considerable labor to again
fit them for use.

It was not till noon that we were prepared to break
up our camp and resume our march; but once under

way again, and the day being fine, we pushed rapidly
forward, and reached the Little Arkansas about dark.
Here we found some large elms, and box elder, and
were able to procure fuel, without difficulty, to cook
our meals; which principally consisted of coffee,
sweetened with sugar, and stakes from a freshly-slaughtered
beef, several of which were driven over
the route to serve in case of need.

This stream, the Little Arkansas, is a tributary of
the river of the same name, and is usually about six
or eight feet wide, and some four or five inches in
depth; but at this time it was much swollen by the
late rains, though not sufficiently so to render it difficult
to ford. By invitation of Lieutenant Parker, I
slept in the wagon with my friend—who, I may remark,
had not suffered from the drenching of the
night before, as I had feared at the time he would.
In fact, Varney considered that, on the whole, he
had improved in health since leaving Independence—
and this we both acknowledged to be quite encouraging.

“If I can only hold out till I reach the mountains,
my dear friend,” he said, “something tells me I shall
yet recover to return to her I love.”

“God grant it!” said I; “and may the happiness
of the future compensate you for all the sorrows and
sufferings of the past!”

“You are the most unselfish friend I ever met!” he
added, with feeling.

“Because I wish you well, Alfred? Surely, no
friend would do less.”

“No, not altogether that; but because, at all times,
you seem to study my happiness rather than your
own.”

“Because, being your friend, my own happiness is,
to a certain degree, bound up in yours,” said I.

“Well, I only hope I may live to repay you.”

The next morning we made an early start; and
scarcely were we under way, when we espied several
antelopes feeding at no great distance; but on seeing
us they fled, before any of our party could get near
enough for a shot. On our journey to-day, we saw
several fresh signs of buffalo, but did not get a sight
of one of the animals. Early in the afternoon we
reached Cow Creek, which we found difficult to cross,
on account of high water and its muddy bottom. In
fact, it was some three hours before all the wagons
were got safely over, and then we camped on its
western bank.

On the following day we came upon a small drove
of buffaloes, the first I had ever seen; and as it was
resolved that we should kill a few for meat, I joined
the party that went in pursuit.

The ordinary method of killing this unwieldly
animal, is to ride into the very centre of a drove,
single out the fattest, and begin the work of slaughter
by discharging holster pistols into his side, near the
brisket, till he falls. Sometimes the buffalo, especially
if a bull, will run a long distance, and require an

immense deal of shooting, before he will succumb to
his fate; and so, when mounted, the worrying down
of the unfortunate animal is by some considered very
excellent sport. I did not find it so—for I sympathized
too much with the poor brute to take any
pleasure in the exciting chase; and so, after killing
one, by way of experiment, I returned to the train,
resolved to shoot no more, unless the flesh were actually
required for food.

On our journey to-day, we passed through a large
village of prairie-dogs, in which both Varney and
myself became exceedingly interested. This is a small,
brown animal, with a head not unlike a terrier pup,
and a short, stumpy tail, which, when excited, he
keeps in constant motion. They select for the site of
their village, or town, a large level of sandy soil; and
their dwellings are made by throwing up the earth,
in a conical shape, to a height of two or three feet,
and having a hole in the apex, or summit, which
descends vertically to the base, and thence obliquely,
for a considerable distance, into the earth. These
earthen houses are constructed with so much order
and regularity as to give the spaces between them
the appearance of streets, and not unfrequently they
cover an area of several miles in extent. Owls and
rattlesnakes are their companions—the former hopping
about at twilight, and feeding upon camelions
and lizards, and the latter not scrupling to fill their
maws with the young, fat pups of their hospitable
entertainers. On the approach of danger, the dogs

run into their holes, and then thrust forth their heads,
and set up a series of sharp, squeaking barks.
When the danger becomes imminent, they retire
from sight altogether; but after waiting awhile in
silence, they peep forth very cautiously; and as soon
as they discover the coast to be clear, they come out
chattering, and have a merry time of it. They have
laws and regulations, which they strictly enforce;
and a big dog, in the centre of the village, appears
to be chief magistrate. Altogether, they are a very
interesting, democratic community of animals; and
it might not be amiss for here and there some
pompous, over-fed city functionary to take a few
lessons of true republican simplicity even from them.

Having now fairly entered upon the buffalo range,
we found these animals increasing in numbers as we
progressed; and I was glad to hear our humane
commander, after the first half-a-day's sport, issue
peremptory orders against their wanton destruction.
Our next camp was upon the bank of the Arkansas;
and, the night following, upon the grand prairie,
within a mile of the river, whither we led our
animals to water, and from which we brought what
was needed for our own use. Here, as not a splinter
of wood could be found, our fires were made of “bois
de vache,”[1] which, when dry, proves a very good
substitute, and is always used by hunters and others
on the open plains. As this was known to be a

dangerous part of the country, our wagons were
made to form a hollow square—inside of which, soon
after dark, many of the animals were driven—while
the others were picketed close around outside, and a
strong guard set.

What happened the reader shall see.