Our route was west by south. The nearest point with which we expected
to fall in with the buffalo was two hundred miles distant. We might
travel three hundred without seeing one, and even much farther at the
present day; but a report had reached Saint Louis that the buffalo had
been seen that year upon the Osage River, west of the Ozark Hills, and
towards that point we steered our course. We expected in about twenty
days to fall in with the game. Fancy a cavalcade of hunters making a
journey of twenty days to get upon the field! The reader will, no
doubt, say we were in earnest.
At the time of which I am writing, a single day's journey from Saint
Louis carried the traveller clear of civilised life. There were
settlements beyond; but these were sparse and isolated--a few small
towns or plantations upon the main watercourses--and the whole country
between them was an uninhabited wilderness. We had no hope of being
sheltered by a roof until our return to the mound city itself, but we
had provided ourselves with a couple of tents, part of the freight of
our waggon.
There are but few parts of the American wilderness where the traveller
can depend upon wild game for a subsistence. Even the skilled hunter
when stationary is sometimes put to his wits' end for "daily bread."
Upon the "route" no great opportunity is found of killing game, which
always requires time to approach it with caution. Although we passed
through what appeared to be excellent cover for various species of wild
animals, we reached our first camp without having ruffled either hair or
feathers. In fact, neither bird nor quadruped had been seen, although
almost every one of the party had been on the look out for game during
most of the journey.
This was rather discouraging, and we reasoned that if such was to be our
luck until we got into the buffalo-range we should have a very dull time
of it. We were well provisioned, however, and we regretted the absence
of game only on account of the sport. A large bag of biscuit, and one
of flour, several pieces of "hung bacon," some dry ox-tongues, a stock
of green coffee, sugar, and salt, were the principal and necessary
stores. There were "luxuries," too, which each had provided according
to his fancy, though not much of these, as every one of the party had
had some time or other in his life a little experience in the way of
"roughing it." Most of the loading of the waggon consisted of provender
for our horses and mules.
We made full thirty miles on the first day. Our road was a good one.
We passed over easy undulations, most of them covered with "black-jack."
This is a species of dwarf oak, so called from the very dark colour of
its wrinkled bark. It is almost worthless as a timber, being too small
for most purposes. It is ornamental, however, forming copse-like groves
upon the swells of the prairie, while its dark green foliage contrasts
pleasantly with the lighter green of the grasses beneath its shade. The
young botanist, Besancon, had least cause to complain. His time had
been sufficiently pleasant during the day. New foliage fell under his
observation--new flowers opened their corollas to his delighted gaze.
He was aided in making his collections by the hunter-naturalist, who of
course was tolerably well versed in this kindred science.
We encamped by the edge of a small creek of clear water. Our camp was
laid out in due form, and everything arranged in the order we designed
habitually to follow.
Every man unsaddled his own horse. There are no servants in
prairie-land. Even Lanty's services extended not beyond the _cuisine_,
and for this department he had had his training as the cook of a New
Orleans trading ship. Jake had enough to do with his mules; and to have
asked one of our hunter-guides to perform the task of unsaddling your
horse, would have been a hazardous experiment. Menial service to a free
trapper! There are no servants in prairie-land.
Our horses and mules were picketed on a piece of open ground, each
having his "trail-rope," which allowed a circuit of several yards. The
two tents were pitched side by side, facing the stream, and the waggon
drawn up some twenty feet in the rear. In the triangle between the
waggon and the tents was kindled a large fire, upon each side of which
two stakes, forked at the top, were driven into the ground. A long
sapling resting in the forks traversed the blaze from side to side.
This was Lanty's "crane,"--the fire was his kitchen.
Let me sketch the camp more minutely, for our first camp was a type of
all the others in its general features. Sometimes indeed the tents did
not front the same way, when these openings were set to "oblige the
wind," but they were always placed side by side in front of the waggon.
They were small tents of the old-fashioned conical kind, requiring only
one pole each. They were of sufficient size for our purpose, as there
were only three of us to each--the guides, with Jake and Lanty, finding
their lodgment under the tilt of the waggon. With their graceful shape,
and snowy-white colour against the dark green foliage of the trees, they
formed an agreeable contrast; and a _coup d'oeil_ of the camp would have
been no mean picture to the eye of an artist. The human figures may be
arranged in the following manner.
Supper is getting ready, and Lanty is decidedly at this time the most
important personage on the ground. He is stooping over the fire, with a
small but long-handled frying-pan, in which he is parching the coffee.
It is already browned, and Lanty stirs it about with an iron spoon. The
crane carries the large coffee-kettle of sheet iron, full of water upon
the boil; and a second frying-pan, larger than the first, is filled with
sliced ham, ready to be placed upon the hot cinders.
Our English friend Thompson is seated upon a log, with the hat-box
before him. It is open, and he has drawn out from it his stock of combs
and brushes. He has already made his ablutions, and is now giving the
finish to his toilet, by putting his hair, whiskers, moustache, teeth,
and even his nails, in order. Your Englishman is the most comfortable
traveller in the world.
The Kentuckian is differently engaged. He is upon his feet; in one hand
gleams a knife with ivory handle and long shining blade. It is a
"bowie," of that kind known as an "Arkansas toothpick." In the other
hand you see an object about eight inches in length, of the form of a
parallelogram, and of a dark brown colour. It is a "plug" of real
"James's River tobacco." With his knife the Kentuckian cuts off a
piece--a "chunk," as he terms it--which is immediately transferred to
his mouth, and chewed to a pulp. This is his occupation for the moment.
The doctor, what of him? Doctor Jopper may be seen close to the water's
edge. In his hand is a pewter flask, of the kind known as a "pocket
pistol." That pistol is loaded with brandy, and Dr Jopper is just in
the act of drawing part of the charge, which, with a slight admixture of
cool creek water, is carried aloft and poured into a very droughty
vessel. The effect, however, is instantly apparent in the lively
twinkle of the doctor's round and prominent eyes.
Besancon is seated near the tent, and the old naturalist beside him.
The former is busy with the new plants he has collected. A large
portfolio-looking book rests upon his knees, and between its leaves he
is depositing his stores in a scientific manner. His companion, who
understands the business well, is kindly assisting him. Their
conversation is interesting, but every one else is too busy with his
affairs to listen to it just now.
The guides are lounging about the waggon. Old Ike fixes a new flint in
his rifle, and Redwood, of a more mirthful disposition, is occasionally
cracking a joke with Mike or the "darkey."
Jake is still busy with his mules, and I with my favourite steed, whose
feet I have washed in the stream, and anointed with a little spare
grease. I shall not always have the opportunity of being so kind to
him, but he will need it the less, as his hoofs become more hardened by
the journey.
Around the camp are strewed our saddles, bridles, blankets, weapons, and
utensils. These will all be collected and stowed under cover before we
go to rest. Such is a picture of our camp before supper.
When that meal is cooked, the scene somewhat changes.
The atmosphere, even at that season, was cool enough, and this, with
Mike's announcement that the coffee was ready, brought all the party--
guides as well--around the blazing pile of logs. Each found his own
platter, knife, and cup; and, helping himself from the general stock,
set to eating on his own account. Of course there were no fragments, as
a strict regard to economy was one of the laws of our camp.
Notwithstanding the fatigue, always incidental to a first day's march,
we enjoyed this _al fresco_ supper exceedingly. The novelty had much to
do with our enjoyment of it, and also the fine appetites which we had
acquired since our luncheon at noon halt.
When supper was over, smoking followed, for there was not one of the
party who was not an inveterate burner of the "noxious weed." Some
chose cigars, of which we had brought a good stock, but several were
pipe-smokers. The zoologist carried a meerschaum; the guides smoked out
of Indian calumets of the celebrated steatite, or red claystone. Mike
had his dark-looking "dudeen," and Jake his pipe of corn "cob" and
cane-joint shank.
Our English friend Thompson had a store of the finest Havannahs, which
he smoked with the grace peculiar to the English cigar smoker; holding
his cigar impaled upon the point of his knife-blade. Kentucky also
smoked cigars, but his was half buried within his mouth, slanted
obliquely towards the right cheek. Besancon preferred the paper
cigarette, which he made extempore, as he required them, out of a stock
of loose tobacco. This is Creole fashion--now also the _mode de Paris_.
A song from the doctor enlivened the conversation, and certainly so
melodious a human voice had never echoed near the spot. One and all
agreed that the grand opera had missed a capital "first tenor" in not
securing the services of our companion.
The fatigue of our long ride caused us to creep into our tents at an
early hour, and rolling ourselves in our blankets we went to sleep. Of
course everything had been carefully gathered in lest rain might fall in
the night. The trail-ropes of our animals were looked to: we did not
fear their being stolen, but horses on their first few days' journey are
easily "stampeded," and will sometimes stray home again. This would
have been a great misfortune, but most of us were old travellers, and
every caution was observed in securing against such a result. There was
no guard kept, though we knew the time would come when that would be a
necessary duty.