“Yes, but you see, Patrick——”
“Neever mind thot (not wishin to distarb you); and suppouse the blowin wind was coming fast ahead, jist blowin about our ears a warld of smoke and chokin us to dith, and we were dancin about a Varginny reel among these little paths, where the divil would we be by the time we got to that bluff, for it’s now fool of a distance? Givin you time to spake, I would say a word more (askin your pardon), I know by the expression of your face, mon, you neever have seen the world on fire yet, and therefore you know nothin at all of a hurly burly of this kind—did ye?—did ye iver see (and I jist want to know), did ye iver see the fire in high-grass, runnin with a strong wind, about five mile and the half, and thin hear it strike into a slash of dry cane brake!! I would jist ax you that? By thuneder you niver have—for your eyes would jist stick out of your head at the thought of it! Did ye iver look way into the backside of Mr. Maelzel’s Moscow, and see the flashin flames a runnin up; and then hear the poppin of the militia fire jist afterwards? then you have jist a touch of it! ye’re jist beginnin—ye may talk about fires—but this is sich a baste of a fire! Ask Jack Sanford, he’s a chop that can tall you all aboot it. Not wishin to distarb you, I would say a word more—and that is this—If I were advisin, I would say that we are gettin too far into this imbustible meadow; for the grass is dry, and the wind is too strong to make a light matter of, at this sason of the year; an now I’ll jist tell ye how M‘Kenzie and I were sarved in this very place about two years ago; and he’s a worldly chop, and niver aslape, my word for that———hollo, what’s that!”
Red Thunder was on his feet!—his long arm was stretched over the grass, and his blazing eye-balls starting from their sockets! “White man (said he), see ye that small cloud lifting itself from the prairie? he rises! the hoofs of our horses have waked him! The Fire Spirit is awake—this wind is from his nostrils, and his face is this way!” No more—but his swift horse darted under him, and he gracefully slid over the waving grass as it was bent by the wind. Our viands were left, and we were swift on his trail. The extraordinary leaps of his wild horse, occasionally raised his red shoulders to view, and he sank again in the waving billows of grass. The tremulous wind was hurrying by us fast, and on it was borne the agitated wing of the soaring eagle. His neck was stretched for the towering bluff, and the thrilling screams of his voice told the secret that was behind him. Our horses were swift, and we struggled hard, yet hope was feeble, for the bluff was yet blue, and nature nearly exhausted! The sunshine was dying, and a cool shadow advancing over the plain. Not daring to look back, we strained every nerve. The roar of a distant cataract seemed gradually advancing on us—the winds increased, the howling tempest was maddening behind us—and the swift-winged beetle and heath hens, instinctively drew their straight lines over our heads. The fleet-bounding antelope passed us also; and the still swifter long-legged hare, who leaves but a shadow as he flies! Here was no time for thought—but I recollect the heavens were overcast—the distant thunder was heard—the lightning’s glare was reddening the scene—and the smell that came on the winds struck terror to my soul! * * * * The piercing yell of my savage guide at this moment came back upon the winds—his robe was seen waving in the air, and his foaming horse leaping up the towering bluff.
Our breath and our sinews, in this last struggle for life, were just enough to bring us to its summit. We had risen from a sea of fire! “Great God! (I exclaimed) how sublime to gaze into that valley, where the elements of nature are so strangely convulsed!” Ask not the poet or painter how it looked, for they can tell you not; but ask the naked savage, and watch the electric twinge of his manly nerves and muscles, as he pronounces the lengthened “hush——sh———” his hand on his mouth, and his glaring eye-balls looking you to the very soul!
I beheld beneath me an immense cloud of black smoke, which extended from one extremity of this vast plain to the other, and seemed majestically to roll over its surface in a bed of liquid fire; and above this mighty desolation, as it rolled along, the whitened smoke, pale with terror, was streaming and rising up in magnificent cliffs to heaven!
I stood secure, but tremblingly, and heard the maddening wind, which hurled this monster o’er the land—I heard the roaring thunder, and saw its thousand lightnings flash; and then I saw behind, the black and smoking desolation of this storm of fire!
LETTER—No. 34.
FORT LEAVENWORTH, LOWER MISSOURI.
Since writing the last epistle, some considerable time has elapsed, which has, nevertheless, been filled up and used to advantage, as I have been moving about and using my brush amongst different tribes in this vicinity. The Indians that may be said to belong to this vicinity, and who constantly visit this post, are the Ioways—Konzas—Pawnees—Omahas—Ottoes, and Missouries (primitive), and Delawares—Kickapoos—Potawatomies—Weahs—Peorias—Shawanos, Kaskaskias (semi-civilized remnants of tribes that have been removed to this neighbourhood by the Government, within the few years past). These latter-named tribes are, to a considerable degree, agriculturalists; getting their living principally by ploughing, and raising corn, and cattle and horses. They have been left on the frontier, surrounded by civilized neighbours, where they have at length been induced to sell out their lands, or exchange them for a much larger tract of wild lands in these regions, which the Government has purchased from the wilder tribes.