We built our fire.Night came, and the wolves began to howl.One deep voice commenced, and it was answered in awful responses from the hills, the plains, and the woods along the stream above and below us.
Such sounds need not and do not disturb one's sleep upon the prairie.
We picketed the mare and the mule close at our feet, and did not wake until daylight.Then we turned them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an hour before starting.We were getting ready our morning's meal, when Raymond saw an antelope at half a mile's distance, and said he would go and shoot it.
"Your business," said.I, "is to look after the animals.I am too weak to do much, if anything happens to them, and you must keep within sight of the camp."Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his hand.The animals had passed across the stream, and were feeding among the long grass on the other side, much tormented by the attacks of the numerous large green-headed flies.As I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, and as several minutes elapsed without their reappearing, I waded through the stream to look after them.To my vexation and alarm I discovered them at a great distance, galloping away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with her hobbles broken, and the mule, still fettered, following with awkward leaps.I fired my rifle and shouted to recall Raymond.In a moment he came running through the stream, with a red handkerchief bound round his head.Ipointed to the fugitives, and ordered him to pursue them.Muttering a "Sacre!" between his teeth, he set out at full speed, still swinging his rifle in his hand.I walked up to the top of a hill, and looking away over the prairie, could just distinguish the runaways, still at full gallop.Returning to the fire, I sat down at the foot of a tree.Wearily and anxiously hour after hour passed away.The old loose bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapped to and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their incessant drowsy humming; but other than this, there was no sight nor sound of life throughout the burning landscape.The sun rose higher and higher, until the shadows fell almost perpendicularly, and I knew that it must be noon.It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be recovered.If they were not, my situation was one of serious difficulty.Shaw, when I left him had decided to move that morning, but whither he had not determined.To look for him would be a vain attempt.Fort Laramie was forty miles distant, and I could not walk a mile without great effort.Not then having learned the sound philosophy of yielding to disproportionate obstacles, Iresolved to continue in any event the pursuit of the Indians.Only one plan occurred to me; this was to send Raymond to the fort with an order for more horses, while I remained on the spot, awaiting his return, which might take place within three days.But the adoption of this resolution did not wholly allay my anxiety, for it involved both uncertainty and danger.To remain stationary and alone for three days, in a country full of dangerous Indians, was not the most flattering of prospects; and protracted as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it was not easy to foretell its ultimate result.
Revolving these matters, I grew hungry; and as our stock of provisions, except four or five pounds of flour, was by this time exhausted, I left the camp to see what game I could find.Nothing could be seen except four or five large curlew, which, with their loud screaming, were wheeling over my head, and now and then alighting upon the prairie.I shot two of them, and was about returning, when a startling sight caught my eye.A small, dark object, like a human head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among the thick hushes along the stream below.In that country every stranger is a suspected enemy.Instinctively I threw forward the muzzle of my rifle.In a moment the bushes were violently shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, and to my great joy I recognized the downcast, disconsolate countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage of Pauline.Raymond came upon the mule, pale and haggard, complaining of a fiery pain in his chest.I took charge of the animals while he kneeled down by the side of the stream to drink.He had kept the runaways in sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie Creek, a distance of more than ten miles; and here with great difficulty he had succeeded in catching them.I saw that he was unarmed, and asked him what he had done with his rifle.It had encumbered him in his pursuit, and he had dropped it on the prairie, thinking that he could find it on his return; but in this he had failed.The loss might prove a very formidable one.I was too much rejoiced however at the recovery of the animals to think much about it; and having made some tea for Raymond in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I told him that I would give him two hours for resting before we set out again.He had eaten nothing that day; but having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep.I picketed the animals among the richest grass that I could find, and made fires of green wood to protect them from the flies; then sitting down again by the tree, I watched the slow movements of the sun, begrudging every moment that passed.
The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Raymond.We saddled and set out again, but first we went in search of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour Raymond was fortunate enough to find it.
