In The Morning, To Our Great Joy, An Unclouded Sun Rose Upon The
Prairie.
We presented rather a laughable appearance, for the cold
and clammy buckskin, saturated with water, clung fast to our limbs;
the light wind and warm sunshine soon dried them again, and then we
were all incased in armor of intolerable rigidity.
Roaming all day
over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls, were scarcely
enough to restore the stiffened leather to its usual pliancy.
Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only hunters in the
party. Munroe this morning made an attempt to run a buffalo, but his
horse could not come up to the game. Shaw went out with him, and
being better mounted soon found himself in the midst of the herd.
Seeing nothing but cows and calves around him, he checked his horse.
An old bull came galloping on the open prairie at some distance
behind, and turning, Shaw rode across his path, leveling his gun as
he passed, and shooting him through the shoulder into the heart. The
heavy bullets of Shaw's double-barreled gun made wild work wherever
they struck.
A great flock of buzzards were usually soaring about a few trees that
stood on the island just below our camp. Throughout the whole of
yesterday we had noticed an eagle among them; to-day he was still
there; and Tete Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of
America, borrowed Delorier's gun and set out on his unpatriotic
mission.
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