Horses were being driven in from all sides. Picket pins were being re-driven and made secure. Favorite steeds were being led up to tent doors. Women were busy putting away meat and hides. Others were cooking the evening meal over the flickering camp-fires. Old men were walking through the camp, urging to great caution about horses, and some of them enforcing the advice of the afternoon.
Soon came darkness and quiet, but though tired I could not sleep. My thought was busy with all these new experiences, and then the hunt promised for to-morrow kept me awake. When I did sleep I dreamt of painted savages and buffalo.
Soon it was morning, and with daylight the camp was astir again. Horses were turned loose under guard, breakfast was cooked and eaten and another service held, and then at the command of the chief, all who could go got ready for the hunt.
CHAPTER XXXII.
The big hunt—Buffalo by the thousand—I kill my first buffalo—Wonderful scene.
My friend led up the little black, who in the morning light looked more beautiful than ever. I speedily saddled him, and awaited in nervous expectancy the start.
At last the chief mounted, and in company with father and Messrs. Woolsey and Steinhauer, led the way; and from all parts of the camp riders came forth, many of them leading their runners, so as to have them as fresh as possible for the coming race.
I found myself in the centre of a group of young men, and in a little while, without any formal introduction, we were quite acquainted and friendly.
They plied me with questions about my previous life, the kind of country I had lived in, and how many people there were in "Mo-ne yang," which to them signified Older Canada. They were astonished when I said there were no buffalo there. "What did the people live on?" They were even more astonished when I explained that it was quite possible to live without buffalo. What about war? Did the people where I came from fight?