The unfortunate trapper was too well acquainted with Indian customs, not to comprehend the drift of the question. He knew he was to run for his life, to furnish a human hunt to his persecutors. Though he was swift of foot, he assured the chief that he was a very bad runner. By this "artful dodge" he gained some vantageground. He was led by the chief into the prairie, about 400 yards from the pack of bloodhounds, and then turned loose to save himself if he could. Colter flew, rather than ran; he was astonished at his own speed; but he had six miles of prairie to traverse before he could reach the Missouri; how could he hope to hold out such a distance with the fearful odds of several hundred to one against him? The plain, too, abounded with prickly pear, which wounded his naked feet. Still he fled on, dreading each moment to hear the twang of a bow. He had run nearly half way across the plain when the sound of pursuit grew somewhat fainter, and he ventured to turn his head. The main body of his pursuers had, to use a sporting phrase, "shut up," several of the faster runners were scattered in the advance, while a swift-footed warrior, armed with a spear, was not more than a hundred yards behind him. Inspired with new hope, Colter redoubled his exertions. He arrived within a mile of the river. The sound of footsteps gathered upon him. With desperate energy he gained the skirt of cotton-wood bordering the river, dashed through it, and plunged into the stream. He swam to a neighbouring island, against the upper end of which the drift-wood had lodged in such quantities as to form a natural raft; under this he dived, and swam below water until he succeeded in getting a breathing-place between the floating trunks of trees, whose branches and bushes formed a covert several feet above the level of the water. He had scarcely drawn breath after all his toils, when he heard his pursuers, on the river bank, whooping and yelling like fiends. They plunged into the river, and swam to the raft. The heart of Colter almost died within him as he saw them through the chinks of his concealment, passing and repassing, and seeking for him in all directions. They, at length, gave up the search. As soon as it was dark, finding by the silence around that his pursuers had departed, Colter dived again, and came up beyond the raft. He then swam silently down the river for a considerable distance, when he landed, and kept on all night, to get as far as possible from this dangerous neighbourhood. By daylight he had gained sufficient distance to relieve him from the terrors of his savage foes, but new sources of inquietude presented themselves. He was alone and unarmed; his only chance was to reach a trading-post of the Missouri Company, situated on a branch of the Yellowstone river, and that could only be accomplished by traversing immense prairies destitute of shade, exposed to the burning heat of the sun by day, and the dews and chills of the night, depending for food upon the roots of the earth. In defiance of these difficulties, he pushed resolutely forward, guiding himself in his trackless course by those signs and indications known only to Indians and backwoodmen; and after braving dangers and hardships enough to break down any spirit but that of a western pioneer, arrived safely at the solitary post in question. Such is a sample of the rugged experience which Colter had undergone of savage life. Every day we made some new sporting excursion, and the scenery and objects, as we proceeded, gave evidence that we were advancing deeper and deeper into the domains of savage nature. Our encampments at night were often pleasant and picturesque,-on some beautiful bank, beneath spreading trees, which afforded us shelter and fuel. The tents were pitched, the fires made, and the meals prepared, by the voyageurs, and many a story was told, joke passed, and song sung round the evening fire. The pigeons were now filling the woods in vast migratory flocks. So great was the number one morning, in the vicinity of our bivouac, that we had a most splendid battue-quite a Red House day. On one occasion, when in pursuit of game, we came upon an Indian camp in an open prairie, near a small stream which ran through a ravine. The tents were of dressed buffalo skins, sewn together, and stretched on tapering pine poles, joined at top, but radiating at bottom, so as to form a circle capable of admitting thirty persons. After sending our guide to reconnoitre the camp, and ascertaining that, fortunately for us, it belonged to a friendly tribe of Indians, we selected some few presents, and made our way to the chief's residence. Nothing could exceed their kindness. They invited us to their lodges, and set food before us with true uncivilized hospitality. During the two days that we lingered at this place, our tents were continually thronged by the Indians. They were a civil, well-behaved people, tolerably cleanly in their persons, and decorous in their habits. The men were tall, straight, and vigorous, with aquiline noses and high cheek bones. Some were in a state of nudity; others had leggins and mocassins of deer skin, and buffalo robes, which they threw gracefully over their shoulders. In a little while, however, they began to appear in more gorgeous array, tricked out in the finery obtained from us;-here might be seen a dark specimen of humanity dressed out in English shooting gaiters and fancy waistcoat; there, another with a straw hat and a pair of Wellington boots; a third with a P, or, rather, pilot jacket, and a belcher handkerchief round his raven hair; a fourth sported a sailor's jacket and overalls. In short, they were as fine as old clothes, bright feathers, brass rings, beads of every hue, yellow ochre, and vermillion, could make them. Understanding that, at some few miles distant, we were likely to have some deer-shooting, we selected three of our new allies, who were reputed excellent sportsmen, and proceeded upon our "dun-deer-stalking." There are two kinds of antelopes in these regions; one nearly the size of the common deer, the other not much larger than a goat. Their colour is a light grey, or rather dun, slightly spotted with white; and they have small horns like those of the deer, which they never shed. Nothing can surpass the exquisite symmetry of their limbs, in which lightness, elasticity, and strength are wonderfully combined. All the attitudes and movements of these beautiful creatures are graceful and picturesque; and they are, altogether, as fit subjects for the fanciful uses of the poet as the oft-sung gazelle of the east. Their habits are shy and capricious; they keep the open prairies, are quick to take alarm, and bound away with a fleetness that defies pursuit. While they keep the open plain, and trust to their speed, they are safe; but they have a prurient curiosity that often betrays them to their ruin. When they have scudded for some distance, and left their pursuer behind, they will suddenly stop and turn to gaze at the object of their alarm. If the pursuit is not followed up, they will, after a time, yield to their inquisitive propensities, and return to the place from whence they have been frightened. My friend, already mentioned, who "Kenn'd the wiles o' dun-deer-stalking," displayed his experience and skill in entrapping many of these animals. Taking advantage of that well-known curiosity so fatal to other little deers (I have unwittingly perpetrated a pun), from Eve to Bluebeard's wives, he hid himself in the long grass, and putting his handkerchief on the end of his ramrod, waved it gently in the air. This had the desired effect. The antelope gazed at the mysterious object for some time at a distance, then approached timidly, pausing and reconnoitring with increased curiosity; moving round the point of attraction in a circle, but still drawing nearer and nearer, until, being within the range of the deadly rifle, he fell a victim to his inquisitiveness. We continued this sport for some hours, much to the delight of our Indian hunters, who decked themselves out with the horns and hoofs of the game. Upon our return to the camp, we found it a scene of the utmost festivity. It was the anniversary of a battle that had taken place between our Indian friends and a neighbouring tribe, in which the former had been victorious. All the tribe were decked out in their gala dresses. The chief was equipped in a gay surcoat and leggins of the dressed skin of the antelope, embroidered with porcupine quills brilliantly dyed. A buffalo robe was thrown over his right shoulder, and across the left was slung a quiver of arrows; over his raven locks was a coronet, formed of the feathers of the black eagle, a bird held sacred among the Indian warriors; and, by way of a glorious trophy, having killed an enemy in his own land, he was entitled to drag at his heels a fox skin attached to each mocassin, a distinction he seemed not a little proud of. Upon our reaching the tents, the pipe of peace was produced with due ceremony. The bowl was of a species of red clay; the stem nearly six feet in length, decorated with tufts of horsehair, dyed almost every colour. The pipe-bearer lighted the pipe, held it towards the sun, then towards the different points of the compass, after which he handed it to the chief. The latter smoked a few whiffs, then holding the bowl of the pipe in his hand, and repeating some few words in the savage tongue, offered the other end to us, successively. I then, in a "neat and appropriate" speech, proposed the health of the chief and his tribe, which was duly explained by the interpreter, presenting the chiefs with sundry small presents of beads, buttons, &c., and for which they made suitable acknowledgments. Then began the war feast and scalp dances, with martial song and savage music. The women and children gathered round us; old men who could no longer bear arms harangued the youthful warriors, exhorting them to valorous deeds. Amid a mingled sound of voices and rude music a procession was formed, headed by the chief, who was carried in triumph very much in the way a popular representative is chaired in England, and followed by his tribe, bearing banners, trophies, scalps, and painted shields. In this way the savage chivalry poured forth, with hideous yells and war whoops, like bedlamites or demoniacs let loose, and conducted us a few miles upon our return towards the spot from whence we had first commenced our sporting excursion. One anecdote to our readers of Indian virtue, and a few parting lines before taking leave of the country of the Missouri, which was related to us by the interpreter:—A married woman of the Sioux Indians made this beautiful reply to a man she met in the woods, and who implored her to love and look upon him; "Oulamen, my husband," said she, "who is ever before my eyes, hinders me from seeing you." Almost every settler who has established himself on the Missouri confidently expects that his farm will, in a few years, become the seat of wealth and business, and the mart for an extensive trade, and certainly the enterprising spirit of the Americans is remarkable in this state. Within the twenty-three years that have elapsed since the cession of this country (part of the former Louisiana) to the Union, much more has been achieved, in every point of view, than during the sixty years preceding, when it was in the possession of France and Spain. Streets, villages, settlements, towns, and farms, have sprung up in every direction; the population has augmented from 20,000 to 106,000 inhabitants; and if they are not superior in wealth to their neighbours, it is certainly to be attributed to their want of industry, and to their passing the greater part of their time in grog shops, or in dancing companies, according to their prevailing custom. Slavery, which is introduced here, contributes not a little to the aristocratic notions of the people, the least of whom, if he can call himself the master of one slave, would be ashamed to put his hand to any work. Still there is more ready money among the inhabitants than in any of the Western states; and prices are demanded accordingly. Cattle that fetch, in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, ten dollars per head, are sold in Missouri for twenty-five dollars; and so in proportion. There is something very extraordinary in the strong and seemingly irresistible impulse which is bearing the American population westward. A passion for migration prevails, quite apart from the mania of speculation, or the desire of gain. In the inhabitants of the new states and territories more especially, there is a propensity to remove westward, for which, Dr. James, who writes so cleverly upon the subject, admits "it is not easy to account." By this habit of frequent migration, it may indeed be well understood, how a fondness is acquired for an adventurous, unsettled life. But this love of the backwoods seems native to the American, and may justly be termed a national passion. It has clearly its seat in the imagination, the result, in part, of an habitual familiarity with geographical ideas, and of associating those ideas with political magnitude. From the interest which every American takes in his government, he connects a feeling of personal importance and conscious power with the extension of its territorial domain; and he expatiates in the boundless range with all the pride of freedom. What poetry and romance are to more refined spirits, the wilderness is to him-an abstract region to which he can escape from the littleness and narrowness of the present, and find an ample field for the indefinite rovings of his mind. With Byron, he can exclaim "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,- Geography exercises over his imagination the power of the fine arts; and to his eye, the map glows with all the richest colours of the canvass. The West is the site of futurity, and he travels in that direction in pursuit of it. That this is no exaggeration will appear from the language of Americans themselves. "The solitude and silence which reign in the colossal forests of the Missouri," remarks one of their ablest writers in the North American Review, "strongly impress a meditative mind; but it is association, imagination,—it is history, prophecy, that impart to this spot a thrilling interest for every American. We have no remembrances like those which cluster about York Minster: England has no anticipations like those awakened at the junction of the Ohio with the Mississippi." AN ADVENTURE WITH A TIGER. "What will you lay it's a lie?"-MODERN SONG. ABOUT a year ago, a friend of ours, who conducts the literary department of one of the London journals, being inclined to scribble an article, wrote an account of a tiger-hunt, filled with moving accidents that out-Munchausened Munchausen, which was subsequently copied into half the papers in the kingdom, as a sporting fact. The disposition to be gulled on such subjects has been well handled by the author of the following clever jeu d'esprit.* Cape Town, 1836, MY DEAR FRIEND,-The subjects to which you referred just now, are, indeed, of a somewhat painful nature; but as I am given to understand that some misconceptions exist regarding them, I will endeavour to give you a simple narration of the extraordinary facts that have directly given rise to the occasion of your remarks. My hair is white, but not from years," as one of your late bards writes-though, for the matter of years, I fear I have now few to look forward to, being-egad! I can scarce believe it myself, when I look back upon the rapid strides with which the sea of time has devoured the past-on the wrong side of threescore and ten! There is a slight, flashing, meteoric appearance at the end of my nose; but the same cause, I aver, established this phenomenon. I can sometimes feel a gentle quivering of the eye; and the right hand appears to have half forgotten its wonted cunning; for many a time has it, of late days, treacherously borne the brimming glass to within an inch and a half of the point (I should write "aperture," I think, properly) that it was intended to reach, when the precious liquor has, in a most unaccountable manner, served to moisten-not the anxious palate and throat-but, descending through that almost imperceptibly small space between it and its once carefully-tied and snowy cravat, unwittingly soiled the capacious shirt-frill, that still, I am proud *The article appeared in the "Bengal Sporting Magazine." |