It was while journeying northwards on this railway that he encountered his first real “sight,” which was a prairie-fire: a swiftly-moving mass of flame and smoke that rolled almost up to the very rails, making the occupants of the cars feel as though they were in an oven. The fire raged for a good many days, for long after Weld had left the railroad and transferred himself to the coach for Lake George, he could still see the smoke and flare in the distance.
The major part of the coach-route lay along a plank road, bounded on either side by miles of monotonous prairie, or by dark patches of pine-wood, where squirrels, deer, and red foxes abounded. The “coach” was an open arrangement—a char-à-bancs, in fact; and Mr. Weld’s travelling companions consisted of three farmers, a couple of French trappers, a wheezy old Irishwoman and her two granddaughters. On the last stage of the journey, when they were within a few miles of the lake-shore, the Englishman’s attention was attracted by the driver to a dark mass that was moving rapidly through the long grass, towards the road.
“Injuns; see em?”
About a score of Ojibewas in full war-dress were riding at the top of their speed, with the apparent intention of cutting off the vehicle.
“Well; I suppose they won’t hurt us?” said Weld.
The coachman whipped up his horses. “I reckon they hadn’t better.”
As nobody seemed in the least alarmed, the tourist watched the approach of the Indians rather with interest than with anxiety. Nevertheless, as the redskins, on coming within a hundred yards, suddenly set up an inharmonious howling, and brandished spears or tomahawks, he thought it time to produce and examine his revolver. Just then the horses were pulled up short, and the driver took from beneath his feet a very workmanlike double-barrelled gun; and, looking round him, Weld saw that the other men were doing the same; while even the old woman and the two girls, albeit without a sign of undue excitement, had each brought out a revolver from her reticule.
“That’s the way to let ’em have it,” said the driver, having fired off both barrels at the advancing mob. Before a second gun could be fired, the whole troop had wheeled about, and were riding away as quickly as they had come. The coachman reloaded as though nothing unusual had happened, put away his rifle, and started the horses again.
“Biggest cowards on the yearth,” he mumbled to Weld. “That was only a couple o’ charges o’ birdshot I give ’em. Bless ye, we know ’em by heart now. Years ago they’d put-up a mail, and tomahawk everybody; but nowadays they seem to run away as soon as they see a gun. If there’d only been you an’ me, 255 or nobody but women, they’d ha’ tried to bluff something out of us, if ’twas only a keg o’ spirits, or a bit of tobacker; but half a dozen men’ll frighten the lives out of ’em. One time o’ day they’d send a charge of arrows first; but they’re shy of that if they see any rifles waiting for ’em.”