HUNTING INDIANS
At last we had reached La Bonte's Camp, toward which our eyes had
turned so long. Of all weary hours, those that passed between noon
and sunset of the day when we arrived there may bear away the palm of
exquisite discomfort. I lay under the tree reflecting on what course
to pursue, watching the shadows which seemed never to move, and the
sun which remained fixed in the sky, and hoping every moment to see
the men and horses of Bisonette emerging from the woods. Shaw and
Henry had ridden out on a scouting expedition, and did not return
until the sun was setting. There was nothing very cheering in their
faces nor in the news they brought.
"We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. "We climbed the
highest butte we could find, and could not see a buffalo or Indian;
nothing but prairie for twenty miles around us."
Henry's horse was quite disabled by clambering up and down the sides
of ravines, and Shaw's was severely fatigued.
After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I proposed to
Shaw to wait one day longer in hopes of Bisonette's arrival, and if
he should not come to send Delorier with the cart and baggage back to
Fort Laramie, while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village and
attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains.
