At The Entrance Of One Of These Lodges I Watched A Squaw And
Her Child Prepare A Meal.
When the fuel was collected, a fat
puppy, playing with the child, was seized by the squaw, and
knocked on the throat - not head - with a stick.
The puppy
was then returned, kicking, to the tender mercies of the
infant; who exerted its small might to add to the animal's
miseries, while the mother fed the fire and filled a kettle
for the stew. The puppy, much more alive than dead, was held
by the hind leg over the flames as long as the squaw's
fingers could stand them. She then let it fall on the
embers, where it struggled and squealed horribly, and would
have wriggled off, but for the little savage, who took good
care to provide for the satisfactory singeing of its
playmate.
Considering the length of its lineage, how remarkably hale
and well preserved is our own barbarity!
We may now take our last look at the buffaloes, for we shall
see them no more. Again I quote my journal:
'JULY 5TH. - Men sulky because they have nothing to eat but
rancid ham, and biscuit dust which has been so often soaked
that it is mouldy and sour. They are a dainty lot! Samson
and I left camp early with the hopes of getting meat. While
he was shooting prairie dogs his horse made off, and cost me
nearly an hour's riding to catch. Then, accidentally letting
go of my mustang, he too escaped; and I had to run him down
with the other. Towards evening, spied a small band of
buffaloes, which we approached by leading our horses up a
hollow. They got our wind, however, and were gone before we
were aware of it. They were all young, and so fast, it took
a twenty minutes' gallop to come up with them. Samson's
horse put his foot in a hole, and the cropper they both got
gave the band a long start, as it became a stern chase, and
no heading off.
'At length I managed to separate one from the herd by firing
my pistol into the "brown," and then devoted my efforts to
him alone. Once or twice he turned and glared savagely
through his mane. When quite isolated he pulled up short, so
did I. We were about sixty yards apart. I flung the reins
upon the neck of the mustang, who was too blown to stir, and
handling my rifle, waited for the bull to move so that I
might see something more than the great shaggy front, which
screened his body. But he stood his ground, tossing up the
sand with his hoofs. Presently, instead of turning tail, he
put his head down, and bellowing with rage, came at me as
hard as he could tear. I had but a moment for decision, - to
dig spurs into the mustang, or risk the shot. I chose the
latter; paused till I was sure of his neck, and fired when he
was almost under me.
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