We now rode the shortest way to the forest on the Leone, and again crossed the stream on which I had shot the bull about three miles below the spot where it lay. We passed through the thick bushes out into the prairie, but Trusty did not follow us. He trotted down the stream, stopped every now and then, looked up to me and gave his deep bark. I looked at him curiously, for I knew that he was on some track, when all at once he disappeared in the bushes and stopped. I gave Czar, whom the well-known voice had rendered impatient, his head, and soon reached the bushes among which Trusty was baying, with a revolver in my hand. I turned Czar into a gap between the bushes, when suddenly the shaggy head of a furious buffalo rose above the bank within a yard of me. My startled horse swerved, and cleared the bushes by a tremendous leap, while the monster dashed past me with a roar and galloped across the prairie. I soon got out of the bush, however, and went after it, while Tiger came to meet me. I was close behind the bull, when Tiger flew past it and gave it a bullet from his long rifle near the neck. The buffalo followed the piebald with terrible fury, dyeing the prairie with its blood, when I darted past it and gave it a bullet from my revolver behind the shoulder-blade, which lamed its left fore leg. Trusty now attacked it in the flank, and it stood at bay, holding its head close to the ground, with its nose between its fore feet, and holding one of its short sharp horns against the dog. The buffalo stood motionless with its tail erect, while Trusty sprang barking before it, waiting for the moment when it should raise its head. But its hour had arrived. I rode within twenty yards, and shot it through the heart: it fell lifeless.
It was one of the bulls I had wounded in the morning, when they hurried to the assistance of their comrade: feeling bad it had gone to the water to cool itself, and Trusty had followed its trail to the spot. We put up rags round this one too, and rode sharply to the fort, whence I sent off two of my men with the cart and two mules, accompanied by Tiger. They returned late at night, and brought a heavy load of meat home, which we cut up and salted the next morning. Of the three hides, they only brought the one shot first, which was employed in making a very long lasso.
Hunting occupied us pleasantly through the autumn, and Tiger grew more and more used to our mode of life: it became rare for him to remain away several days without our knowing what had become of him; he also took greater pleasure in domestic jobs, and applied himself to them more frequently than at the first period of his stay with us. He learned to milk the cows, and readily helped in it as he was so fond of milk, as well as in making vinegar, which he also liked much, and which is made of the large wild grapes with which the prairie thickets are covered. For this purpose I had two large empty whisky casks fetched from the settlement, and this year our vinegar turned out first-rate. Previously we had made it in smaller quantities of mulberries, plums, or honey, which was not half so agreeable as that made of grapes.
Tiger was able to make butter and cheese, and at a pinch cook. Our table was now always well covered, as we had a superabundance of the finest vegetables. The potato crop had turned out very well, and we had more especially an extraordinary quantity of sweet potatoes, as they are called. This is a tuber like the potato; the plant itself consists of tendrils, which spread flat and thick over the soil, and can be easily multiplied in spring. The shoot bears in autumn an extraordinary number of tubers, which are employed precisely like potatoes, except that they have a much more agreeable flavour, resembling the chestnut. A small, most prolific bean, which we plant between the maize, and which spreads over the whole field, had produced us a large stock, while the less hardy vegetables, such as lettuce, spinach, and cabbage, covered the garden all the winter through.
The winter in this region is very mild, and may fairly be termed the pleasantest season of the year. We have no lasting rainy season, although rain falls more frequently then than in the summer months, but it rarely lasts longer than a day, and then the cloudless blue sky gleams pleasantly over us again. Frost is rare and trifling; but sometimes it sets in towards morning, and will last a whole day if accompanied by a wind blowing down from the northern Rocky Mountains. These Northers are usually called something terrible in the whole of the United States, but in reality they do not at all merit this reputation. Certainly the cold is felt much more among us than elsewhere; because, as men accustomed to warm weather, we rarely lay in a stock of winter clothes. The houses, too, are not calculated for cold, as they are built very airily and lightly, and have no stoves—only fireplaces. When the Northers blow the people fly to these fires, while the cattle seek bottoms and dense thickets, where they conceal themselves.
I remember on a splendidly warm forenoon the sky becoming overcast from the north, and it began to blow and rain, which caused the whole country to be covered with ice in a short time. If such a storm assails a traveller in his light summer dress, he is certainly in an unpleasant position, and if he is a stranger it easily happens that he tells a terrible story about it when he gets home. These disagreeable storms from the north, however, are infrequent; we have perhaps six or eight in a winter, and they rarely last longer than four-and-twenty hours, and are then driven away by very bright warm days. The winter proper—which may bring cold weather—does not begin till January, frequently later; hence we have a very long delicious autumn. The days are no longer oppressively hot, and the nights become so cool that we are glad to snuggle under a buffalo robe or a woollen blanket. This is the season when we recover from the exhausting continuous summer heat, and the body regains its energy.
