Ill luck ruled the day, but La Ronde said, “Try it again;” and as the last herd had not fairly seen their enemies, they pulled up about a mile distant, and began to feed slowly along. After alternately racing at full speed, when out of view, and crawling stealthily over exposed places for miles, continually finding the animals had moved off by the time the place where they were last seen was reached, the hunters succeeded in ensconcing themselves behind a hillock on the other side of which the buffalo were feeding, and moving on round the base towards them.
It was now La Ronde’s turn to have the first shot, and as soon as the fore-quarters of the leader of the band moved slowly into view, some twenty yards off, he fired. As the animal did not drop instantly, Cheadle, who was determined not to return empty-handed after all, and had covered him carefully, dropped him with a second shot behind the shoulder. La Ronde was highly indignant at his conduct, and declared it was unsportsmanlike, but was much chagrined to find, on cutting up the animal, that his own shot had merely passed through the shoulder-blade without breaking it, and the animal would doubtless have escaped but for the second bullet, which passed through the heart. This beast proved a splendid young bull, of three years old, with a magnificent skin, and a mane with hair half a yard in length. Before the animal was cut up, and the meat packed on the horses, which they had this time brought with them, night had already come on.
The chase had led them six or seven miles from camp, and the young moon had nearly gone down. La Ronde, however, pressed confidently forward, although it seemed impossible to find the way in the dark through a country of such uniform character. After travelling several hours, he stopped all at once, and began striking sparks with flint and steel, to enable him to see the old track near the camp. It could not be found, however, although La Ronde very positively asserted that it must be close at hand, and the camp itself within a few hundred yards of the place where they stood. La Ronde had steered his course entirely by the stars, and judged by the direction, and time, and rate of travelling, that they must be close to their destination. All were impressed with the idea that the camp lay to the right, and a divergence was made for a few hundred yards in that direction; but no landmarks could be made out, and it was resolved to camp for the night in a copse of small poplars. A pack of wolves kept up a continual howling, snapping, and growling at a little distance to the left, and Cheadle was very anxious to move there, thinking it probable that they were quarrelling over the meat that had been left packed on the sledges in the camp. But La Ronde dissuaded him, saying he was sure the camp lay to the right, and the wolves would not dare to enter so soon a place strewed with blankets and other property of men.
The night was bright and very cold, and the fire miserably small, the only dry wood to be found being a few dead saplings of aspen, the size of pea-rods. Blankets and buffalo robes had been left in the old camp, and the hunters were little better off than they had been a few nights before. The covering this time was a large waterproof sheet, which had been brought to roll up meat in, and was, if possible, less efficient than the raw hide had been. The moisture of the breath condensed and froze in cakes inside the sheet, and all advantage from sleeping with head under the covering was thus lost. As in the previous adventure, sleep was not to be obtained, and the similar weary watch for daylight, stamping about, mending the tiny fire, observing the progress of Orion, and listening to the snapping and growling of the wolves, seemed interminable.
Since, however, it was nearly midnight when the search for the camp was given up, the season of misery lasted, in reality, little more than half as long as before, although, for its duration, the hardship was quite as severe.
At daybreak La Ronde reconnoitred, and discovered that the camp was within 300 or 400 yards to the left; and, when approached, showed ominous marks of disorder. The wolves had been dividing the spoils, as Cheadle shrewdly suspected. The whole of Misquapamayoo’s little store, consisting of choice morsels, which he had prepared and packed with nicest care, was gone, and nearly the whole of our sleigh load beside. The new supply, however, nearly made up for the loss; and the horses were therefore at once harnessed to the sleighs, and all speed made for Fort Milton once more.
The journey home was slow and tedious. Although there had been no regular thaw, the warm sun had melted the snow on the hill sides and southern slopes, and the labour of dragging the loaded sleighs over the bare ground was so harassing to the horses, that but short stages could be made, and those at a slow pace. At one point the way lay across a large lake. The snow on this had almost entirely disappeared, and the horses fell so continually over the bare ice, that the attempt to take them across was obliged to be abandoned. Misquapamayoo’s Lilliputian steed in particular, whose feet were small as those of a deer, was utterly unable to stand on the slippery surface, and for a long time it seemed as if the only chance of getting him off again would be to drag him to terra firma by the tail. The horses had now to be taken out of the sleighs, which were drawn by hand across the lake, and a road cut through the woods which skirted the banks, whereby the horses were led round to the further side. This operation occupied a whole morning, and it was not until the evening of the fifth day of travelling that the party reached La Belle Prairie, after an absence of twelve days.
One little incident of the journey home serves to illustrate the rough and ready manner of proceeding characteristic of the voyageurs. One of the sleighs in passing along the side of a steep hill, upset, overturning with it the horse, who lay helplessly on his back, with his legs kicking in the air. Cheadle was proceeding to unharness him; but La Ronde cried, “Ah! non, Monsieur, pas besoin;” and both lifting together, they sent horse and sleigh rolling over and over down the hill, until at last they came right side up, and the train proceeded.
Great was the delight of Milton and Bruneau at the happy return, and Keenamontiayoo and some Indians who were at the house were not slow to assist in the feast of fresh meat, which lasted far into the night, the party from the plains enjoying, on their part, the luxury of bread.
Truly the pleasures of eating are utterly unknown in civilised life.