Shivering with cold, I had some difficulty in making a fire, on account of the deep snow which covered every thing;—but I managed it at last with the help of my tomahawk; dried myself, and having laid some steaks on the fire, I devoured them ere they were well warmed through.
The exertion of the chase and the cold bath was too much for my weakened frame. I threw myself down by the fire, and soon felt another attack of ague. The shivering fit lasted full two hours, and seemed the worst I had ever experienced: it was succeeded by a hot fit, which made me forget ice and snow. Towards evening I was somewhat better, but not in condition to continue my journey; so I cleared away the snow, piled it up like a wall to keep off the wind, collected a good store of wood and slept calmly and sweetly through the night. Next day the ague had left me, but I felt very weak, and remained all day extended before my warm fire, enjoying my venison. Towards evening I took a little turn for the sake of exercise, and to see if I could get a shot, returning to my old quarters to sleep, and setting out next day for the long desired buffalo.
I struck off in a southerly direction, and had lounged along for about a couple of hours, when I came to a place where at least twenty of these creatures must have passed the previous night. I lost no time in following the broad trail of the herd down the bank of the river. After a time, the trail turned suddenly to the northward. As it grew dark, I lighted a good fire and laid down, having cleared away the snow. It was dreadfully cold. The wolves howled fearfully, but did not come near me.
After a good breakfast, I again followed up the trail, which ran zigzag and in all directions, and when I laid down again for the night I knew that I could not be very far from my prey. I slept under the shelter of a fallen tree, which kept off the wind, and the fire burnt brightly. About midnight, the wind changed from north-west to south-west, of which I did not much approve, for the sky foreboded a change. Dark masses of cloud assembled in the south, and the air became perceptibly warmer. I dreaded the consequences.
On the 5th of February it began to thaw, yet I would not all at once give up my hopes of the buffaloes, till several abortive attempts to find the trail convinced me of the fruitlessness of further pursuit. Shower followed shower. In a few hours all the beautiful snow had disappeared, leaving a waste of waters, in which no trail was visible.
I had now to ponder within myself what was best to be done, but the approaching night soon settled that matter. The darkness and pouring rain informed me that there was nothing to be attempted at present. A fire was out of the question, and I cowered under a half-fallen tree, to be sheltered as much as possible from the rain. I had some broiled venison in my bag, but felt no appetite, and passed a miserable night, shivering with cold. The wolves seemed almost tame, for some came within a few paces of me, and howled awfully. I was in such a state of despondency that I would not take the trouble to draw my knife, because I should have had to move; besides, in the humor I was in, it almost seemed that to be shaken by wolves till I was warm would have been rather pleasant than otherwise.
I did not close an eye the whole night, and longed eagerly for the first gleam of day, which at last broke gloomily through the dark forest.
The rain ceased, and a damp thin mist lay upon the swamp. I cut a slice of venison, and all my salt being