I Alighted, Dragged Old Hendrick Through The Mud, And With A Feeling
Of Infinite Satisfaction Picked Up The Slimy Trail-Rope And Twisted
It Three Times Round My Hand.
"Now let me see you get away again!" I
thought, as I remounted.
But Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to
turn back; Hendrick, too, who had evidently flattered himself with
vain hopes, showed the utmost repugnance, and grumbled in a manner
peculiar to himself at being compelled to face about. A smart cut of
the whip restored his cheerfulness; and dragging the recovered truant
behind, I set out in search of the camp. An hour or two elapsed,
when, near sunset, I saw the tents, standing on a rich swell of the
prairie, beyond a line of woods, while the bands of horses were
feeding in a low meadow close at hand. There sat Jack C., cross-
legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope, and the rest were lying on
the grass, smoking and telling stories. That night we enjoyed a
serenade from the wolves, more lively than any with which they had
yet favored us; and in the morning one of the musicians appeared, not
many rods from the tents, quietly seated among the horses, looking at
us with a pair of large gray eyes; but perceiving a rifle leveled at
him, he leaped up and made off in hot haste.
I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for nothing
occurred worthy of record. Should any one of my readers ever be
impelled to visit the prairies, and should he choose the route of the
Platte (the best, perhaps, that can be adopted), I can assure him
that he need not think to enter at once upon the paradise of his
imagination.
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