[We both sprang to our feet, and ran with all speed towards the animals.]
Both animals proved to be in very good condition. “You will taste to-night,” said the Sioux to me, “the best bit of meat to be got in the prairie—the flesh of a fat cow buffalo; the finest beef is but poor food compared to it.”
We were still so near our camp that we determined to get the sleds out and drag it in, before night would give the wolves a chance of plundering our winter store of meat. The Sioux began to skin and cut up the buffalo, and I went back to where we had left the horses, and then rode to the camp to bring Donogh, the scout, and the sled to the scene. It was astonishing to see the rapid manner with which the two Indians cut up these large animals. Early in the afternoon we were all back in the camp, with three sled-loads of primest meat; we brought skins, marrow-bones, tongues, and tit-bits; and the remainder of the daylight was spent in arranging the supplies safe from the ravage of prowling wolves and in preparing for a good feast after the labours of the day.
Pleasant it was that night, when the darkness had fallen over the silent wilderness, to look at the cosy scene presented by our camp. We had swept clear of brushwood and snow a large space on one side of our leather lodge. Maple-trees grew thickly around it; in the centre burned clear and bright a fire of dry logs. Steaks were roasting before glowing embers, the kettle was steaming from a cross-stick, marrow-bones were toasting, gelettes were baking in a pan set facing the fire and backed up with hot embers, while, seated on buffalo robes, around the fire we sat, canopied by the starlight, circled by the vast and lonely wilderness.
The next morning found us again in the saddle, but this time Donogh came to share our sport. Our course now lay in a westerly direction from the lake. It was in that line that the yearling calf had retreated on the previous day, and there it was likely we should fall in with buffalo. It was mid-day however before the sight of buffalo gladdened our eyes. Far away to the south dim dark specks were visible. Ascending a ridge in the direction of the animals, we had a better view of the plains. A large herd was distinctly visible, moving slowly towards the north-west. We watched them for some minutes. “We must cross them on their line of march,” said the Sioux to me; then we rode briskly off towards the south-west keeping our horses along the hollows of the prairie. It was his intention to take up a position in advance of the herd, and then await its coming. He preferred this mode of attack in the present instance to running the buffalo upon horseback: the light covering of snow was sufficient to render the prairie dangerous, since it had partially hidden the badger holes, and the surface was hard with frost. “Our horses have to carry us home to the Red Deer river,” he said as we cantered along; we must be careful how we use them. We soon reached the edge of what seemed to be a channel of a stream through the prairie; but there was no water in the wide grassy hollow that ran in sweeping curves over the plains, nor could a stream of water ever have flowed in it, because it followed the general undulations of the land around, although the floor or bottom of it was always lower than the land that bordered it on either side. We now saw that the line of the buffalo’s advance was up this grassy hollow, and as the wind was favourable we would only have to conceal ourselves in the floor of this depression and to await the approach of the herd. Leaving the horses in a deep hollow, we gained a spot in the grassy channel where we could lie concealed behind tufts of grass and snow; here we lay down to await the buffalo. It was not very long before the leading ones came in sight of our hiding-place, round a curve in the depression about four hundred yards distant.
Then in scattered files more came into view, walking slowly and deliberately forward in that complete unconstraint with which the wild animals of the earth take their leisure when they fancy their great enemy, man, is far away from them.
A very old bull led the advance, moving some distance in front of any other beast.
The snow of many a winter’s storm, the gleam of many a summer’s sun, had matted and tangled his shaggy mane and sweeping frontlet.