Deer Are Frequently Seen To
Come Down From The Mountains To The Creek For Water, And Prairie
Chicken Would Come To Our Very Tents, I Fancy, If Left To Follow Their
Inclinations.
Faye is officer of the day every third day, but the other two days
there is not much for him to do, as the company is now working on the
new quarters under the supervision of the quartermaster.
So we often
go off on little hunts, usually for chicken, but sometimes we go up on
one of the mountains, where there are quantities of ruffed grouse.
These are delicious, with meat as tender and white as young chicken,
and they are so pretty, too, when they spread the ruffs around their
necks and make fans of their short tail feathers.
Yesterday we went out for birds for both tables - the officers' mess
and our own. The other officers are not hunters, and Faye is the
possessor of the only shotgun in the garrison, therefore it has been a
great pleasure to us to bring in game for all. Faye rides Bettie now
altogether, so I was on Pete yesterday. We had quite a number of
chickens, but thought we would like to get two or three more;
therefore, when we saw a small covey fly over by some bushes, and that
one bird went beyond and dropped on the other side, Faye told me to go
on a little, and watch that bird if it rose again when he shot at the
others. It is our habit usually for me to hold Faye's horse when he
dismounts to hunt, but that time he was some distance away, and had
slipped his hand through the bridle rein and was leading Bettie that
way. Both horses are perfectly broken to firearms, and do not in the
least mind a gun. I have often seen Bettie prick up her ears and watch
the smoke come from the barrel with the greatest interest.
Everything went on very well until I got where I might expect to see
the chicken, and then I presume I gave more thought to the bird than
to the ground the horse was on. At all events, it suddenly occurred to
me that the grass about us was very tall, and looking down closely I
discovered that Pete was in an alkali bog and slowly going down. I at
once tried to get him back to the ground we had just left, but in his
frantic efforts to get his feet out of the sticky mud, he got farther
to one side and slipped down into an alkali hole of nasty black water
and slime. That I knew to be exceedingly dangerous, and I urged the
horse by voice and whip to get him out before he sank down too deep,
but with all his efforts he could do nothing, and was going down very
fast and groaning in his terror.
Seeing that I must have assistance without delay, I called to Faye to
come at once, and sat very still until he got to us, fearing that if I
changed my position the horse might fall over. Faye came running, and
finding a tuft of grass and solid ground to stand upon, pulled Pete by
the bridle and encouraged him until the poor beast finally struggled
out, his legs and stomach covered with the black slime up to the flaps
of my saddle, so one can see what danger we were in. There was no way
of relieving the horse of my weight, as it was impossible for me to
jump and not get stuck in the mud myself. This is the only alkali hole
we have discovered here. It is screened by bunches of tall grass, and
I expect that many a time I have ridden within a few feet of it when
alone, and if my horse had happened to slip down on any one of these
times, we probably would have been sucked from the face of the earth,
and not one person to come to our assistance or to know what had
happened to us.
When Faye heard my call of distress, he threw the bridle back on
Bettie, and slipping the shotgun through the sling on the saddle,
hurried over to me, not giving Bettie much thought. The horse has
always shown the greatest disinclination to leaving Pete, but having
her own free will that time, she did the unexpected and trotted to a
herd of mules not far off, and as she went down a little hill the
precious shotgun slipped out of the sling to the ground, and the stock
broke! The gun is perfectly useless, and the loss of it is great to us
and our friends. To be in this splendid game country without a shotgun
is deplorable; still, to have been buried in a hole of black water and
muck would have been worse.
Later. Such an awful wind storm burst upon us while I was writing two
days ago, I was obliged to stop. The day was cold and our tents were
closed tight to keep the heat in, so we knew nothing of the storm
until it struck us, and with such fierceness it seemed as if the tents
must go down. Instantly there was commotion in camp - some of the men
tightening guy ropes, and others running after blankets and pieces of
clothing that had been out for an airing, but every man laughed and
made fun of whatever he was doing. Soldiers are always so cheerful
under such difficulties, and I dearly love to hear them laugh, and
yell, too, over in their tents.
The snow fell thick and fast, and the wind came through the canon back
of us with the velocity of a hurricane. As night came on it seemed to
increase and the tents began to show the strain and one or two had
gone down, so the officers' families were moved into the unfinished
log quarters for the night.
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