Beyond the sunset

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

He pointed to the expanse of the savannahs—or prairies, as the French call them—which we could just see over the tree-tops.

"From here to the Father of Waters, brother, most of the country is like that. Corlaer and Tawannears know, because when we made this journey before, we came all the way by land from the Door of the Long House. The open country begins even farther to the east as you go north toward the Lakes. Over such country we can travel almost as rapidly as in the canoe, and also, brother, we can travel in a straight line. The Ohio twists like a snake and it bears away to the south, so that after it carried us to the Great River we should have to paddle north again against the current, for it is my purpose to make for the country of the Dakota, above the other great river, the Missouri, which pours into the Father of Waters on its west side. Corlaer and Tawannears dwelt a while with the Dakota, before the message came summoning us to return to the Long House, and it is my thought that they might help us farther upon this journey, where other peoples would seek to plunder us or take our scalps."

"You are right, as always, brother," I said. "If Peter agrees, let us start."

Peter heaved himself ponderously to his feet, seized his musket and stood ready for Tawannears to lead the way.

"Ja," he squeaked placidly. "Now we get some buffalo-hump."

"What?" I asked, as Tawannears started down the hillock.

"He means the wild cattle of the plains, brother," explained the Seneca. "You have seen their skins in the lodges of my people, and once, the forefathers tell us through the Keeper of the Wampum, the buffalo ranged up to the Doors of the Long House; but now they are seldom seen east of the Ouabache. Their meat is sweet and tender at this time of the year, especially the hump of a young cow. It will be a welcome change after jerked deerflesh."

"Ja," affirmed Corlaer, licking his lips.

And I was amused to notice the display of vigilance with which he surveyed the country around us as we left the protection of the forest for the open sweep of the savannahs. To be sure, the fat Dutchman was never as dull as he allowed himself to seem, and he had developed the faculties of seeing, hearing, smelling and feeling to a pitch as acute as the savages' which is the highest praise I can offer. But he usually employed his ability without ostentation. Now, he was as palpably interested in his surroundings as I was, and his growing disappointment, as the afternoon waned and we had no sight of a living creature, was comical. Indeed, he was much put out when I rallied him upon it, and his silence when we halted at evening was gloomily expressive.

Our camp that night was beside a tiny rill of water that tickled along a fold in the rolling waves of earth. There was no underbrush available, let alone trees, and the long prairie grass that grew waist-high was too green to burn readily, so we had no fire. But we did not feel the want of it, for the heat was terrible on the unshaded savannahs. All day the sun had been beating down upon the earth, and all day the earth had been drinking in the heat—to exude it through the night like a dry sweat.