The two dead buffalo lay some 200 yards apart, and placing a gun and powder-horn against one to scare away the wolves, they lighted a small fire near the other, and proceeded to take off his hide, and cook steaks for supper. By this time night had quite closed in, and a strong north wind blew icily cold, piercing the single flannel shirts of the unfortunate hunters like gauze. Bitterly did they now repent having left shirts and capotes behind; for the prospect of spending the long winter night with the thermometer below zero, and without shelter or proper fire, was unpleasant enough.
All the wood that could be found—a very scanty supply—was collected to replenish the tiny fire, the snow scraped away, and willows cut and strewn for a couch. The raw buffalo hide was divided into two, and Cheadle made himself very small to creep under one half, while La Ronde and Misquapamayoo huddled together under the other. The reeking hide was delightfully warm, and the weary travellers were soon sound asleep. But their comfort was, alas! of short duration. Before long, the sleepers awoke half frozen and benumbed in every limb. The scanty coverlet, so soft and warm at first, had quickly frozen hard as stone, and formed an arch over the recumbent bodies, through which the keen winter wind rushed like the draught under the arch of a bridge.
Sleep was out of the question, and kicking aside their deceitful protection, the shivering trio stamped restlessly to and fro, cherishing with sparing hand the miserable fire, or cooking strips of meat to while away the dreary hours, watching anxiously the voyageur’s clock, “Great Orion,” which “sloped,” as it seemed, very, very “slowly to the west.” He did get through his journey at last, however; and when the wolves proclaimed the dawn with the usual chorus of howls, La Ronde and the boy started back to fetch the sleighs, whilst Cheadle went in pursuit of a buffalo which had been severely wounded the night before.
After hunting several days with tolerable success, the sleighs were loaded with meat, and the party turned their faces homewards. But their adventures were not yet over. Several bands of buffalo were descried close at hand, and it was resolved to have one more day’s hunting before returning to La Belle Prairie. The character of the country, which was undulating, with scattered patches of small timber, was very favourable for stalking, and a small band was successfully approached within some forty yards. They were lying asleep in a little hollow, and Cheadle agreed to wait ensconced behind a hillock, whilst the other two crept round to approach them on the opposite side.
Long he waited, peering over the brow of the hill through the long grass, and anxiously watching in vain for some sign that the others had reached their post. Presently one of the bulls got up and stretched himself, but did not appear disturbed. Cheadle, unwilling to spoil the chance of the others, still forbore to shoot, and as he lay and waited, began to dream; thoughts of home, and old familiar scenes and faces took possession of his brain;
“Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans,
And phantom hopes assemble;”
and La Ronde, buffalo and all, were completely forgotten. Suddenly he was aroused from his reverie by a great shouting of “Tir donc! tir, Docteur! tir-r, sacré! tonnerre! tir-r-r!” and there were the buffalo rushing by as hard as they could tear, with La Ronde and Misquapamayoo running after them, blazing away as rapidly as they could load. They fired at random and without effect, but Cheadle, more deliberate, wounded one badly in the body, which pulled up for a moment, and then followed behind the rest.
La Ronde, utterly disgusted, refused to follow them, and vowed that never again would he lead the absent-minded Cheadle up to buffalo. He declared that he had waited a full half hour, expecting him to shoot, and then being impatient, he whistled softly; one of the bulls arose, presenting his broadside, and he thought that surely that fine chance would be taken. Again he waited a long time, and then waved his cap as a signal to fire, but in vain. At last, in a fit of despair and rage, he jumped up and shouted as before related.
After a short rest, and having somewhat recovered their equanimity, they again set out, and soon observed a herd of twelve feeding, still undisturbed. As they had already nearly enough meat, it was agreed to give the boy a chance, and he accordingly crept up to them alone, whilst the rest lay in wait for a chance as they passed. But the young one missed his mark, and the herd went off in the wrong direction, out of reach of the two in ambush.