There Was An Island In The River, Or Rather An Oasis
In The Midst Of The Sands At About The Distance Of A Gunshot, And
Here They Seemed Gathered In The Greatest Numbers.
A horrible
discord of low mournful wailings, mingled with ferocious howls, arose
from it incessantly for several hours after sunset.
We could
distinctly see the wolves running about the prairie within a few rods
of our fire, or bounding over the sand-beds of the river and
splashing through the water. There was not the slightest danger to
be feared from them, for they are the greatest cowards on the
prairie.
In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, we felt much less
at our ease. We seldom erected our tent except in bad weather, and
that night each man spread his buffalo robe upon the ground with his
loaded rifle laid at his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses
were picketed so close around us that one of them repeatedly stepped
over me as I lay. We were not in the habit of placing a guard, but
every man that night was anxious and watchful; there was little sound
sleeping in camp, and some one of the party was on his feet during
the greater part of the time. For myself, I lay alternately waking
and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was reposing close to the
river bank, and about this time, when half asleep and half awake, I
was conscious that he shifted his position and crept on all-fours
under the cart.
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