We had been two days at this camp, and some of the meat was nearly fit for transportation, when a storm came suddenly upon us.About sunset the whole sky grew as black as ink, and the long grass at the river's edge bent and rose mournfully with the first gusts of the approaching hurricane.Munroe and his two companions brought their guns and placed them under cover of our tent.Having no shelter for themselves, they built a fire of driftwood that might have defied a cataract, and wrapped in their buffalo robes, sat on the ground around it to bide the fury of the storm.Delorier ensconced himself under the cover of the cart.Shaw and I, together with Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into the little tent; but first of all the dried meat was piled together, and well protected by buffalo robes pinned firmly to the ground.About nine o'clock the storm broke, amid absolute darkness; it blew a gale, and torrents of rain roared over the boundless expanse of open prairie.Our tent was filled with mist and spray beating through the canvas, and saturating everything within.We could only distinguish each other at short intervals by the dazzling flash of lightning, which displayed the whole waste around us with its momentary glare.We had our fears for the tent;but for an hour or two it stood fast, until at length the cap gave way before a furious blast; the pole tore through the top, and in an instant we were half suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of the canvas, which fell down upon us.Seizing upon our guns, we placed them erect, in order to lift the saturated cloth above our heads.In this disagreeable situation, involved among wet blankets and buffalo robes, we spent several hours of the night during which the storm would not abate for a moment, but pelted down above our heads with merciless fury.Before long the ground beneath us became soaked with moisture, and the water gathered there in a pool two or three inches deep; so that for a considerable part of the night we were partially immersed in a cold bath.In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow of spirits did not desert him for an instant, he laughed, whistled, and sung in defiance of the storm, and that night he paid off the long arrears of ridicule which he owed us.While we lay in silence, enduring the infliction with what philosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who was intoxicated with animal spirits, was cracking jokes at our expense by the hour together.At about three o'clock in the morning, "preferring the tyranny of the open night" to such a wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath the fallen canvas.The wind had abated, but the rain fell steadily.The fire of the California men still blazed amid the darkness, and we joined them as they sat around it.We made ready some hot coffee by way of refreshment; but when some of the party sought to replenish their cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, having disposed of his own share, had privately abstracted the coffee-pot and drank up the rest of the contents out of the spout.
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.
