We were now at no great distance from the herd, and my horse catching sight of an old worried bull, somewhat in the rear, instantly made toward him. He was too jaded to hasten his pace, and I could see his fury was roused. I prepared to shoot him, as it would go to show my pursuers, if I should have any, that the excitement of the chase had alone carried me away. While yet some distance, he shied to one side, and turned his head warningly toward us, but without halting. The horse, however, finding that I still restrained my shot, continued to bring me closer. At last, the bison struck into a swifter run, and made desperate efforts to rejoin his companions. In an instant I was beside him, and holding my gun to my shoulder, was just on the point of firing, when he suddenly stood at bay, in precisely the same manner as the other. My horse, instead of making a running leap this time, stopped instantaneously, planting his feet firmly in the ground. I was not prepared for this, and shot a dozen feet over his head, falling upon my face within a foot of the buffalo. The shock was terrible, and I was severely injured. I endeavored to rise, fearing that I should be gored and trampled to death, but was unable, and heard the buffalo scampering away. I placed my hand to my face, and found it covered with blood, and a strange bewilderment was coming over me. I arose to my knees, and gazed about me. The buffalo was plunging in the rear of his drove, while my horse was galloping wildly around me, his mane and bridle flying in the wind. I heard the bursting of thunder overhead, and everything was growing dark and confused. I tried again to rise, but failed. There was a thick darkness about me, a heavy hand pressing me to the earth, and all become chaotic.
When consciousness returned, all was blank darkness. The rain was pouring down in torrents, and, stunned and bleeding, I lay on the soaked, cold, spongy earth. Gradually, the remembrance of my misfortune came over me. I must have been lying several hours upon the prairie, exposed to the cold, dismal storm. My clothes were saturated with the chilling rain, and my face and hands bedabbled with mud and dirt.
I struggled desperately to my feet, and endeavored to pierce the Stygian gloom around; but it was useless; not the smallest point of the faintest light could be seen in any direction. Up, down, on every hand, the same solid walls of darkness enveloped me. I was many miles from the Indian village, and had lost its direction. At that moment, I would have given worlds to have been within Jim’s lodge. Flight, in my present condition, was not to be thought of, and I must soon receive succor or I should perish.
I listened. In the dismal sweep of the rain something like a footstep was heard. I called out, but there was no reply. Again the splash of a foot was heard, now from a different point. Soon I discovered some animal was walking around me in a circle. Feeling round in the spongy prairie, I found my rifle, but it was useless as a means of defense, as the charge was thoroughly wetted. I clubbed it, and waited for the attack. Still around and around the same step went. At first I fondly hoped it might be Jim, or one of his companions, but its footfall showed it to be a quadruped, and its approach was too cautious. Suddenly it halted and walked directly toward me. I drew my rifle back, ready to brain it the minute it was within my reach. A faint neigh was heard—joy inexpressible! it was my faithful horse. As I called to him, he approached, and lowered his head for me to take his bridle. With a feeling of deep thankfulness and hope, I clambered into the saddle, and he bounded away, his unerring instinct leading him straight toward home.
The rain continued to beat, cold and dismal, and I felt already burning within me a hot, fiery fever, from the terrible suffering I had undergone. I should soon be prostrated, and without some kindly hand to nurse me, would inevitably perish. But the horse was certain; and, after an hour or two, my heart leaped, as we entered the silent Indian village. But one light was burning, and that was in the lodge of Jim, showing that he expected my return. I rode instantly up to the entrance and dismounted, while my noble horse made off to look out for himself. Jim arose as he heard my approach, and, lifting his torch, advanced to meet me.
“You had long hunt—”
He started back in horror at my appearance. Then, holding his light over his head, and peering at me, he asked:
“What de matter? Been in fight?”
“No; I was thrown from my horse, and lay senseless upon the prairie until a short time ago. I feel bad, Jim, and fear I am severely injured,” said I, starting to seat myself.
“Wait minute; am hurt; let me fix ’em.”