The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 453 pages of information about The Oregon Trail.

The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 453 pages of information about The Oregon Trail.

He immediately put the yellow horse at such a gallop as he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the mule, who soon far outran her plebeian rival.  When we had galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill luck, sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded violently aside in full career.  Weakened as I was, I was flung forcibly to the ground, and my rifle, falling close to my head, went off with a shock.  Its sharp spiteful report rang for some moments in my ear.  Being slightly stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, supposing me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule.  Soon recovering myself, I rose, picked up the rifle and anxiously examined it.  It was badly injured.  The stock was cracked, and the main screw broken, so that the lock had to be tied in its place with a string; yet happily it was not rendered totally unserviceable.  I wiped it out, reloaded it, and handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had caught the mule and led her up to me, I mounted again.  No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to rear and plunge with extreme violence; but being now well prepared for her, and free from incumbrance, I soon reduced her to submission.  Then taking the rifle again from Reynal, we galloped forward as before.

We were now free of the mountain and riding far out on the broad prairie.  The buffalo were still some two miles in advance of us.  When we came near them, we stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us from their view, and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward with his rifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground.  A few minutes elapsed; I heard the report of his piece, and saw the buffalo running away at full speed on the right, and immediately after, the hunter himself unsuccessful as before, came up and mounted his horse in excessive ill-humor.  He cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo, swore that he was a good hunter, which indeed was true, and that he had never been out before among those mountains without killing two or three deer at least.

We now turned toward the distant encampment.  As we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were flying lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one of them would stand and be shot at.  When we reached the foot of the mountain ridge that lay between us and the village, we were too impatient to take the smooth and circuitous route; so turning short to the left, we drove our wearied animals directly upward among the rocks.  Still more antelope were leaping about among these flinty hillsides.  Each of us shot at one, though from a great distance, and each missed his mark.  At length we reached the summit of the last ridge.  Looking down, we saw the bustling camp in the valley at our feet, and ingloriously descended to it.  As we rode among the lodges, the Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that should have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws uttered various suppressed ejaculations, to the great

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The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.