We had by this time reached a part of the country where woods and hills could be seen rising here and there above the plain. The rearmost of the buffalo had become separated, and many of the Indians, having exhausted their arrows, were now attacking them with their spears; two hunters generally singling out one animal, and riding alongside it till they had wounded it to death. As far as I could see, on either side, the country exhibited an animated scene,—the buffalo scampering along in every direction, with Indians riding after them, their robes wildly flying in the air, while they flourished their spears above their heads. On the ground over which we had come could be distinguished numerous dark spots,—the bodies of the buffalo we had slain. Indeed, our comparatively small party had, I afterwards found, killed upwards of two hundred animals; which will give some idea of the numbers annually slaughtered by the Indians.
At length they gave over the chase, and commenced the operation of skinning their victims, leaving most of the carcasses a prey to the wolves. The tongues and humps, however, were generally secured, as well as the flesh of the cows, which is, as I have said, far superior in tenderness to that of the bulls.
The horses loaded with skins and meat, we returned at night to the camp; and as our captors had now an abundance of provisions, they were in an unusually good-humour.
“Sure, thin, but this wouldn’t be a bad opportunity for us to git away from these rid gintlemen,” observed Mike, as we watched them feasting on the produce of the day’s hunt—stuffing such huge quantities of flesh into their insides, that it seemed impossible, were they long to continue the operation, that they would be able to move.
Chapter Seven.
Mike’s precaution—We again go buffalo-hunting—The prairie on fire—A ride for life—Our escape from the fire and the Indians—Hobbling horses—The fire is stopped by the river—A brief sleep—Our fishing tackle—Mike catches a cat-fish—Our lean-to—Mike loses his book—The visit of Bruin—A hearty meal—Death of Mike’s horse—I am taken sick—Mike’s careful watch—My horse is drowned—Our visit to the rice-Lake—We find Lily and Dora there, with Ashatea, in a canoe, gathering rice—Lily’s account of Manilick, the young chief, Ashatea’s lover—Kepenau’s address—Again taken ill—How I recover.
Mike and I were on the watch for an opportunity of mounting our horses and galloping off unperceived by the Indians; but, though they feasted for several successive days, that opportunity never came. Unfortunately, so far as our enterprise was concerned, they had no whisky in the camp, and were therefore able to watch our movements.
In a few days the hunters again set out, to obtain a further supply of buffalo robes; not that these were required for their own use, but they intended to exchange them with the traders for whisky and other articles—especially firearms and ammunition. The chief and two or three of the leading men had already procured weapons, although as yet they were by no means expert in their use.