By the greatest good fortune, at the last moment,
he must have made an instinctive start, which probably saved
his life, and mine too. The bull's horns had just missed his
entrails and my leg, - we were broadside on to the charge, -
and had caught him in the thigh, below the hip. There was a
big hole, and he was bleeding plentifully. For all that, he
wouldn't let me catch him. He could go faster on three legs
than I on two.
'It was getting dark, I had not touched food since starting,
nor had I wetted my lips. My thirst was now intolerable.
The travelling rule, about keeping on, was an ugly incubus.
Samson would go his own ways - he had sense enough for that -
but how, when, where, was I to quench my thirst? Oh! for the
tip of Lazarus' finger - or for choice, a bottle of Bass - to
cool my tongue! Then too, whither would the mustang stray in
the night if I rested or fell asleep? Again and again I
tried to stalk him by the starlight. Twice I got hold of his
tail, but he broke away. If I drove him down to the river
banks the chance of catching him would be no better, and I
should lose the dry ground to rest on.
'It was about as unpleasant a night as I had yet passed.
Every now and then I sat down, and dropped off to sleep from
sheer exhaustion. Every time this happened I dreamed of
sparkling drinks; then woke with a start to a lively sense of
the reality, and anxious searches for the mustang.
'Directly the day dawned I drove the animal, now very stiff,
straight down for the Platte. He wanted water fully as much
as his master; and when we sighted it he needed no more
driving. Such a hurry was he in that, in his rush for the
river, he got bogged in the muddy swamp at its edge. I
seized my chance, and had him fast in a minute. We both
plunged into the stream; I, clothes and all, and drank, and
drank, and drank.'
That evening I caught up the cavalcade.
How curious it is to look back upon such experiences from a
different stage of life's journey! How would it have fared
with me had my rifle exploded with the fall? it was knocked
out of my hands at full cock. How if the stock had been
broken? It had been thrown at least ten yards. How if the
horn had entered my thigh instead of the horse's? How if I
had fractured a limb, or had been stunned, or the bull had
charged again while I was creeping up to him? Any one, or
more than one, of these contingencies were more likely to
happen than not. But nothing did happen, save - the best.
Not a thought of the kind ever crossed my mind, either at the
time or afterwards. Yet I was not a thoughtless man, only an
average man. Nine Englishmen out of ten with a love of sport
- as most Englishmen are - would have done, and have felt,
just as I did. I was bruised and still; but so one is after
a run with hounds. I had had many a nastier fall hunting in
Derbyshire. The worst that could happen did not happen; but
the worst never - well, so rarely does. One might shoot
oneself instead of the pigeon, or be caught picking forbidden
fruit. Narrow escapes are as good as broad ones. The truth
is, when we are young, and active, and healthy, whatever
happens, of the pleasant or lucky kind, we accept as a matter
of course.
Ah! youth! youth! If we only knew when we were well off,
when we were happy, when we possessed all that this world has
to give! If we but knew that love is only a matter of course
so long as youth and its bounteous train is ours, we might
perhaps make the most of it, and give up looking for -
something better. But what then? Give up the 'something
better'? Give up pursuit, - the effort that makes us strong?
'Give up the sweets of hope'? No! 'tis better as it is,
perhaps. The kitten plays with its tail, and the nightingale
sings; but they think no more of happiness than the rose-bud
of its beauty. May be happiness comes not of too much
knowing, or too much thinking either.
CHAPTER XXIII
FORT LARAMIE was a military station and trading post
combined. It was a stone building in what they called a
'compound' or open space, enclosed by a palisade. When we
arrived there, it was occupied by a troop of mounted riflemen
under canvas, outside the compound. The officers lived in
the fort; and as we had letters to the Colonel - Somner - and
to the Captain - Rhete, they were very kind and very useful
to us.
We pitched our camp by the Laramie river, four miles from the
fort. Nearer than that there was not a blade of grass. The
cavalry horses and military mules needed all there was at
hand. Some of the mules we were allowed to buy, or exchange
for our own. We accordingly added six fresh ones to our
cavalcade, and parted with two horses; which gave us a total
of fifteen mules and six horses. Government provisions were
not to be had, so that we could not replenish our now
impoverished stock. This was a serious matter, as will be
seen before long. Nor was the evil lessened by my being laid
up with a touch of fever - the effect, no doubt, of those
drenches of stagnant water. The regimental doctor was
absent. I could not be taken into the fort. And, as we had
no tent, and had thrown away almost everything but the
clothes we wore, I had to rough it and take my chance.
