A PRAIRIE ON FIRE—SCENES OF TERROR.
In October, we were overtaken by a prairie fire. At this season of the
year the plants and grass, parched by a hot sun, are ready to blaze in
a moment if ignited by the least spark, which is often borne on the
wind from some of the many camp fires.
With frightful rapidity we saw it extend in all directions, but we were
allowed time to escape.
The Indians ran like wild animals from the flames, uttering yells like
demons; and great walls of fire from the right hand and from the left
advanced toward us, hissing, crackling, and threatening to unite and
swallow us up in their raging fury.
We were amid calcined trees, which fell with a thundering crash,
blinding us with clouds of smoke, and were burned by the showers of
sparks, which poured upon us from all directions.
The conflagration assumed formidable proportions; the forest shrunk
up in the terrible grasp of the flames, and the prairie presented one
sheet of fire, in the midst of which the wild animals, driven from
their dens and hiding-places by this unexpected catastrophe, ran about
mad with terror.
The sky gleamed with blood-red reflection; and the impetuous wind swept
both flames and smoke before it.
The Indians were terrified in the extreme on seeing around them
the mountain heights lighted up like beacons; to show the entire
destruction. The earth became hot, while immense troops of buffalo made
the ground tremble with their furious tread, and their bellowings of
despair would fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.
Every one was frightened, running about the camp as if struck by
insanity.
The fire continued to advance majestically, as it were, swallowing up
every thing in its way, preceded by countless animals of various kinds,
that bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge, which
threatened to overtake them at every step.
A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp.
Ten minutes more, and all would be over with us, I thought, when I saw
the squaws pressing the children to their bosoms.
The Indians had been deprived of all self-possession by the presence of
our imminent peril—the flames forming an immense circle, of which our
camp had become the center.
But fortunately, the strong breeze which, up to that moment, had lent
wings to the conflagration, suddenly subsided, and there was not a
breath of air stirring.
The progress of the fire slackened. Providence seemed to grant us time.
The camp presented a strange aspect. On bended knee, and with clasped
hands, I prayed fervently. The fire continued to approach, with its
vanguard of wild beasts.
The Indians, old and young, male and female, began to pull up the grass
by the roots all about the camp, then lassoed the horses and hobbled
them in the center, and, in a few moments, a large space was cleared,
where the herbs and grass had been pulled up with the feverish rapidity
which all display in the fear of death.
Some of the Indians went to the extremity of the space, where the grass
had been pulled up, and formed a pile of grass and plants with their
feet; then, with their flint, set fire to the mass, and thus caused
“fire to fight fire,” as they called it. This was done in different
directions. A curtain of flames rose rapidly around us, and for some
time the camp was almost concealed beneath a vault of fire.
It was a moment of intense and awful anxiety. By degrees the flames
became less fierce, the air purer; the smoke dispersed, the roaring
diminished, and, at length, we were able to recognize each other in
this horrible chaos.
A sigh of relief burst from every heart. Our camp was saved! After the
first moments of joy were over, the camp was put in order, and all felt
the necessity of repose, after the terrible anxieties of the preceding
hours; and also to give the ground time enough to cool, so that it
might be traveled over by people and horses.
The next day we prepared for departure. Tents were folded, and packages
were placed upon the ponies, and our caravan was soon pursuing its
journey, under the direction of the chief, who rode in advance of our
band.
The appearance of the prairie was much changed since the previous
evening. In many places the black and burnt earth was a heap of smoking
ashes; scarred and charred trees, still standing, displayed their
saddening skeletons. The fire still roared at a distance, and the
horizon was still obscured by smoke.
The horses advanced with caution over the uneven ground, constantly
stumbling over the bones of animals that had fallen victims to the
embrace of the flames.
The course we took in traveling wound along a narrow ravine, the dried
bed of some torrent, deeply inclosed between two hills. The ground
trodden by the horses was composed of round pebbles, which slipped
from under their feet, augmenting the difficulty of the march, which
was rendered still more toilsome to me by the rays of the sun falling
directly upon my uncovered head and face.
The day passed away thus, and, aside from the fatigue which oppressed
me, the day’s journey was unbroken by any incident.
At evening, we again camped in a plain, absolutely bare; but in
the distance we could see an appearance of verdure, affording
great consolation, for we were about to enter a spot spared by the
conflagration.
At sunrise, next morning, we were on the march toward this oasis in the
desert.