About
Sunset The Whole Sky Grew As Black As Ink, And The Long Grass At The
River's Edge Bent And Rose Mournfully With The First Gusts Of The
Approaching Hurricane.
Munroe and his two companions brought their
guns and placed them under cover of our tent.
Having no shelter for
themselves, they built a fire of driftwood that might have defied a
cataract, and wrapped in their buffalo robes, sat on the ground
around it to bide the fury of the storm. Delorier ensconced himself
under the cover of the cart. Shaw and I, together with Henry and
Tete Rouge, crowded into the little tent; but first of all the dried
meat was piled together, and well protected by buffalo robes pinned
firmly to the ground. About nine o'clock the storm broke, amid
absolute darkness; it blew a gale, and torrents of rain roared over
the boundless expanse of open prairie. Our tent was filled with mist
and spray beating through the canvas, and saturating everything
within. We could only distinguish each other at short intervals by
the dazzling flash of lightning, which displayed the whole waste
around us with its momentary glare. We had our fears for the tent;
but for an hour or two it stood fast, until at length the cap gave
way before a furious blast; the pole tore through the top, and in an
instant we were half suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of the
canvas, which fell down upon us. Seizing upon our guns, we placed
them erect, in order to lift the saturated cloth above our heads. In
this disagreeable situation, involved among wet blankets and buffalo
robes, we spent several hours of the night during which the storm
would not abate for a moment, but pelted down above our heads with
merciless fury. Before long the ground beneath us became soaked with
moisture, and the water gathered there in a pool two or three inches
deep; so that for a considerable part of the night we were partially
immersed in a cold bath. In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of
spirits did not desert him for an instant, he laughed, whistled, and
sung in defiance of the storm, and that night he paid off the long
arrears of ridicule which he owed us. While we lay in silence,
enduring the infliction with what philosophy we could muster, Tete
Rouge, who was intoxicated with animal spirits, was cracking jokes at
our expense by the hour together. At about three o'clock in the
morning, "preferring the tyranny of the open night" to such a
wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath the fallen canvas. The
wind had abated, but the rain fell steadily. The fire of the
California men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joined them as
they sat around it. We made ready some hot coffee by way of
refreshment; but when some of the party sought to replenish their
cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share,
had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up the rest of the
contents out of the spout.
In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun rose upon the
prairie. We presented rather a laughable appearance, for the cold
and clammy buckskin, saturated with water, clung fast to our limbs;
the light wind and warm sunshine soon dried them again, and then we
were all incased in armor of intolerable rigidity. Roaming all day
over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls, were scarcely
enough to restore the stiffened leather to its usual pliancy.
Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only hunters in the
party. Munroe this morning made an attempt to run a buffalo, but his
horse could not come up to the game. Shaw went out with him, and
being better mounted soon found himself in the midst of the herd.
Seeing nothing but cows and calves around him, he checked his horse.
An old bull came galloping on the open prairie at some distance
behind, and turning, Shaw rode across his path, leveling his gun as
he passed, and shooting him through the shoulder into the heart. The
heavy bullets of Shaw's double-barreled gun made wild work wherever
they struck.
A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about a few trees that
stood on the island just below our camp. Throughout the whole of
yesterday we had noticed an eagle among them; to-day he was still
there; and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of
America, borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on his unpatriotic
mission. As might have been expected, the eagle suffered no great
harm at his hands. He soon returned, saying that he could not find
him, but had shot a buzzard instead. Being required to produce the
bird in proof of his assertion he said he believed he was not quite
dead, but he must be hurt, from the swiftness with which he flew off.
"If you want," said Tete Rouge, "I'll go and get one of his feathers;
I knocked off plenty of them when I shot him."
Just opposite our camp was another island covered with bushes, and
behind it was a deep pool of water, while two or three considerable
streams course'd over the sand not far off. I was bathing at this
place in the afternoon when a white wolf, larger than the largest
Newfoundland dog, ran out from behind the point of the island, and
galloped leisurely over the sand not half a stone's throw distant. I
could plainly see his red eyes and the bristles about his snout; he
was an ugly scoundrel, with a bushy tail, large head, and a most
repulsive countenance. Having neither rifle to shoot nor stone to
pelt him with, I was looking eagerly after some missile for his
benefit, when the report of a gun came from the camp, and the ball
threw up the sand just beyond him; at this he gave a slight jump, and
stretched away so swiftly that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on
the distant sand-beds.
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